“I didn’t have the pleasure of his company; I assumed he was herding the evening fodder out to the vampires. Did you not see him?”
Victoria shook her head. “No, although I was otherwise . . . engaged. He could have been there for some time, and later took himself off once it was clear the battle wasn’t to be won. ”
“And did you bestir yourself to stake some vampires, then, Vioget?”
Victoria felt Sebastian move. Ever so slightly, tension rippled along the arm and leg that pressed against her side. Then, as the hand on her knee lifted, the tension eased. “A few,” he replied negligently. “We . . . Victoria and I . . . took care of most of them. ”
She felt a gentle tug on the loose part of her hair and thought it had caught between them . . . but then she realized he’d taken a lock of it and was rubbing it between a forefinger and thumb, twisting it softly around a digit. A most intimate gesture, and one that made her distinctly uncomfortable.
Before she could pull away or otherwise respond, the carriage gave the fortuitous lurch that announced their arrival.
Victoria stood quickly, causing Sebastian to release her hair. Max had the same idea and they fairly collided in the center of the small carriage, shoulder to chest.
“In a hurry, my dear?” he asked with a grim smile. “Don’t let me get in your way. ”
He settled back into his seat as the carriage door opened. Barth was there to help Victoria climb down, which she did with little fanfare—and without waiting for Sebastian.
The dawn had come, and her mind was spinning.
As she walked up the house’s walkway, she heard the low murmur of a male voice behind her, and the carriage door close again. A quick glance behind told her she was alone, and that Max and Sebastian had remained in the carriage.
Only hours later, with the sun blasting its heat through a rare, cloudless London sky, Victoria was awakened by a knock on her bedchamber door.
With bleary eyes, she looked next to her. The bed was empty, but rumpled. No, she hadn’t dreamed it—the warm slide of Sebastian’s body next to hers, the hands on her hair, the gentle kiss before he gathered her close to sleep. He’d murmured something unintelligible into the top of her head.
She’d drifted off thinking how unlike him that was . . . and wondering what had transpired between him and Max after she left the carriage.
Verbena entered at her bidding.
“My lady,” she said, her lips pursed in a tight circle that barely moved when she spoke. “I’m sorry to wake ye, but that Ol’ver claims he needs to speak t’you right away. ” She shook her head, tsking in disgust. “I told him you’d only been abed for a few hours, but he ’nsists. ”
“Send him up to me,” Victoria said. An uncomfortable feeling opened in her stomach. Any news from Oliver would likely pertain to Mr. Bemis Goodwin.
“Up here?” Verbena fairly screeched, her eyes springing wide open. “Why, m’lady, it’s not proper. That man can wait while I dress ye, for sure, my lady. ’E has no call t’be—”
Victoria shook her head. “No, it cannot wait, I’m afraid. Call for him to be sent up, and if you’re quick, perhaps you can help me into a day frock before he gets here.
Verbena muttered something about Langford, who happened to be the personal maid to Duchess Farnham and who most likely would require smelling salts should her mistress have ordered her to bring a man to her bedchamber. Even, Victoria suspected, the late duke. But Verbena disappeared from the room for a brief moment, and her mistress heard the reverberation of her voice and its direction to Oliver. Then she returned and threw herself into Victoria’s wardrobe.
“I never heard o’such a thing,” she muttered as she bustled about, pulling forth a clean chemise and a new corset for her mistress. Victoria had bathed the night before, to cleanse herself from the smoke, blood, and soot, so the small ewer of water on her night table would suffice for her to freshen up.
“ ’Avin’ a man no better’n a footman into the lady’s chamber! Why, the on’y time I ever knew o’ such a happenin’ was when Lady Meryton was tuppin’ her groom on the sly o’ her husband, y’know. An’ it wasn’t long afore such was all the talk o’ the belowstairs!”
She pulled the cotton shift down over Victoria’s head, jerking it into place as she emphasized her words. “An’ the groom, well, ’e was no prize, if ye ask me. I seen’im once an’ he had big eyebrows that looked like spiders. I’d not be wantin’ that face too close t’me, ye know, wit’ them squiggly things. An’ on ’is ears, too! But”—she pulled on Victoria’s corset to hook it in place beneath her breasts as there came a knock on the door. “Ye can jus’ wait a minnit,” she hollered.
“Come in, Oliver,” Victoria said.
Verbena straightened in shock, barely missing clipping Victoria’s chin. She fairly flew to the chair over which she’d hung the chosen frock. “Do not come in here, Oliver,” she ordered as the door cracked. “Only one more—” Her words became muffled as Victoria’s ears were filled with the swoosh of fabric and rustle of lace and other gewgaws. She wouldn’t have chosen such a decorated dress, but it was too late now.
At last Oliver came in, the large red-haired man half skulking as if in fear of Verbena’s wrath. And rightly so. Victoria wondered what would become of them if they ever admitted their attraction for each other and actually had a normal conversation. He hunched a bit, twisting his cap in his large hands, and gave three bows in a row. “My lady, I’ve come wi’ some news. ”
“O’ course ye have,” Verbena railed, tugging roughly at the buttons lining the nape of her mistress’s neck. “Else why would we let ye in ’ere? Now, spit it out, my lady’s not got all the day to wait for ye to figger out what t’say. ”
“Come in, Oliver,” Victoria said. “What have you to tell me about Mr. Goodwin?”
The process was excruciating, working around Verbena’s bossy interjections and Oliver’s hesitant narrative, but Victoria at last reeled the information from his depths.
It wasn’t the least bit comforting.