Rises The Night (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 2)

When it was time to walk into the dining room, Mr. Starcasset remained at her side and led Victoria to a seat between himself and Dr. Polidori. Sebastian was placed at the other side of the table, near the opposite end, between Miss Berkley and Gwendolyn.

“I have had the pleasure of reading your work, Dr. Polidori,” Victoria offered, removing her gloves and folding them neatly in her lap. It was true—she’d read The Vampyre even before becoming aware of her Venator calling. “It’s very unique, as most other stories about vampires portray them as mere beastly creatures of low class, while your gracious and charming Lord Ruthven could easily find himself a place in the ton. How did you ever come to this different understanding of these creatures?”

“Indeed, it was rather Byron’s fault. I was visiting him along with Shelley and his wife in Switzerland, and she thought up the game that each of us should write a story about a supernatural or monstrous creature. Byron dabbled with the story for a bit, then moved on to something else, and as the idea piqued my interest, I decided to pursue it.” Polidori’s reply was glib, as though he’d given it many times. His hair was an explosion of wild black curls that could not, no matter the amount of pomade, be tamed. They framed his round, youthful face and curled in every direction. Yet, despite his easy carriage and words, a wariness limned his eyes, as though something worried at him.

“You wrote so convincingly, Dr. Polidori. Do you believe vampires exist? That they actually can move among us in Society? Could any one of the peers really be a vampire?” Mrs. Manley, Gwendolyn’s aunt, who sat across from him, appeared quite taken with the idea that a vampire might be sitting at the very table. “There were those rumors about the Earl of Corvindale…”

Victoria refused to exchange glances with Sebastian, although he tried to catch her eye. She hoped quite heartily Mrs. Manley never came face-to-face with a vampire, in Society or no. “One could only suspect members of the peerage who do not show their faces during the day,” Victoria commented with a smile. “According to Dr. Polidori, the vampires do not come out in the sunlight. But if they did, would they die a horrible death…or merely be burned?”

“I believe they would suffer terrible burns, but they would be unlikely to die unless overexposed.”

“And what of flame?” Victoria asked, remembering last summer, when she and Max had been trapped with vampires in a burning building. “Would that also burn them?”

Polidori brushed crumbs from the corner of his mouth. “Flames from a fire do not harm a vampire, at least”—he gave a gentle laugh— “in my imagination.”

And in reality as well. Victoria thought it quite interesting Polidori seemed to have an accurate knowledge of the bloodthirsty creatures.

“Dr. Polidori is lately returned from Italy.” Sebastian’s comment was directed to Miss Berkley.

“Italy? I have never been, but I have heard that Rome and Venice are lovely cities. Where in Italy did you travel?” asked Gwendolyn.

“I spent much of my time in Venice with Byron, until several months ago, when we parted ways. He felt he did not need the personal services of a physician any longer,” Polidori added with a self-deprecating smile. “I traveled throughout the country and then returned to England near the beginning of the year.”

Victoria’s attention was drawn from the physician-turned-author to Mr. Starcasset, when he leaned closer and said, “I shall promise you, Lady Rockley, that the gentlemen will not leave you ladies long alone in the parlor after dinner. I am hoping you might partner me in a game of whist this evening, as my sister claims you are a devilish good player!”

“Does she indeed?” Victoria replied, trying to recall if she had ever played whist with Gwendolyn. She didn’t believe she had, so now she wondered whether Mr. Starcasset had her confused with some other lady, or whether he was merely attempting to make an attachment to her. Smothering a smile, she turned back to him with a demure look and said, “I should be quite pleased to be your partner in whist, if you will agree to sing when Gwendolyn sits at the pianoforte. She has spoken quite often of your pleasing voice!”

He smiled down at her, his teeth wide and white, and his eyes warm. “I think I must call you on that exaggeration, madam, as Gwendolyn scarcely allows any of her siblings to sing whilst she plays…but I will happily make the attempt, if all for your hand at cards.”

Indeed, Starcasset made well on his promise, ushering the men from their cigars and brandy back into the parlor with the ladies less than thirty minutes after they had separated following the end of the meal. A rousing game of whist ensued, with he and Victoria partners, playing across from Miss Berkley and Mr. Vandecourt.

Victoria, who was not known for her excellence at cards despite Starcasset’s claims to the contrary, managed to keep from embarrassing herself…even when Sebastian happened to stroll along behind her and peer over her shoulder as though to ascertain whether her mediocre playing was due to lack of good cards or skill.

It was also possible he was using the opportunity to look down the bodice of her gown, as he stood behind her for quite a long enough time. But since he already was acquainted with exactly what it covered, she rather doubted he would need to stare quite so long.

Victoria felt her face warm at the memory that this man behind her—who, by all outward appearance, was a stranger to her—had actually had his long-fingered hands on her bare skin. Intimately on her b

are skin.

And she had allowed it.

“I believe I am quite finished with whist,” she said calmly, as the last hand of the second game ended and she stood from her seat. “Perhaps Gwendolyn and her brother will entertain us at the pianoforte.”

The Starcasset siblings obliged her request, and their lovely duets soon ebbed into a more rousing set of country songs. The others joined in with the singing, and imbibed more brandy and sherry, and soon Gwendolyn’s fair cheeks were flushed, Miss Berkley was fluttering her eyelashes quite noticeably at Sebastian, and Victoria was feeling cheerier than she had for months.

But when she saw the way Mr. Vandecourt hovered near Gwendolyn, solicitously assisting her to rearrange the pillow on which she sat, and the way his expression softened when he looked at her, Victoria felt a wave of loneliness. It had been that way with Phillip. So kind, so thoughtful, so handsome.

She had lost him so very quickly.

And even once she moved beyond this grief that reared up when she least expected it, grabbing her by the throat when she thought she’d kept it at bay, she would never be able to think about finding a husband or having children. She’d never be able to be like Gwendolyn: happy to be in love, planning a family life, looking forward to the next Season.

Thus was the life she’d chosen, and Victoria was not bitter about it. She’d done it for the right reasons, and the freedoms she received, the things she learned, the ability to rely upon and protect herself were compensation enough.

But there were times like now, seeing her happy friend, that she realized how deep the sacrifice had been.

“Lady Rockley, is something the matter?” asked George Starcasset, who had stepped away from the pianoforte to move to her side. “May I offer you a breath of air on the patio? You look a bit warm.”

“No, thank you, sir,” she replied. “I fear it is simply that I am fatigued from the ride from London. I believe I will excuse myself and say good night.”