“Never mind, pet,” Damon said. “Inside joke.”
“It’s a boring story,” I said. “Far more interesting is Damon’s love of drama. You should get him to talk about the acts he’s pulled off.”
“You’re an actor?” Violet asked.
“We’ll talk more at the party!” Damon said, clearly annoyed. Well, good. If talking in code and getting under his skin was the way to get him to pay attention to me, then I’d do it.
“Yes!” Violet said eagerly.
“We should probably be going,” I said gently, taking Violet’s arm and escorting her through the throngs of people and out the door.
I breathed a sigh of relief as the cool air hit my face. It was the perfect antidote to the hot, crowded, tense atmosphere of the party. I didn’t think about Damon. I focused on the buzz of the gas lamps above and the flutter of the leaves and the staccato steps of pedestrians—all of the everyday noises I heard, amplified because of my senses, but rarely appreciated.
Once we got back to the room, I placed Violet on the bed, gently tucking the coverlet around her body. Her eyes were fully shut by the time her head hit the silk pillowcase.
I took longer to fall asleep. Outside, the streets of London were still buzzing, and every time I closed my eyes, I thought I could hear Damon’s laugh, wafting up from the streets and into my mind.
Chapter 9
I’ve always been a brother. It’s a thought that comes to me, unbidden, late at night or when I’m walking silently through the forest, stalking my prey. No matter who knows that about me, or whether or not I share that information, it’s a part of me that I can never forget.
When I came along, of course, I had my parents, but they were older, authoritarian, a presence in the morning and in the evening. But Damon was always by my side. He was who I explored the world with, who I rebelled against, who I occasionally yearned to be.
On the other hand, Damon was not always a brother. As the eldest, there were years where it was just him, alone in the world. He’d never had the constant sense that he was being compared to someone else. He’d never known what it was like to always be reaching for the sun while standing in the shadow of another.
I don’t think he ever felt that way about me. He was always the older brother, always showing me how things were done, always coaxing me to ride a horse I was frightened of, or kiss a girl whom I was worried wouldn’t like me back. I watched him, wide-eyed, as he conquered the world.
And even now, I couldn’t break free from him. I couldn’t stop being a younger brother, who was simultaneously fearful and in awe of the unique force that was Damon Salvatore.
“How do I look?” I woke to Violet prancing into the room, wearing a light blue dress with a crinoline underneath that rustled with every step.
“You look lovely,” I said as I sat up and stretched my arms over my head. I couldn’t believe I had allowed myself to sleep past dawn; usually I was wide awake well before the sun rose. But despite all my troubled thoughts, the comfortable couch had lulled me into a deep, dreamless sleep.
I wondered what was happening at the Abbott Manor, who was taking care of the chickens and livestock.
I imagined Oliver glancing out the window, waiting for me to come home to take him hunting. It was a world away.
“What time do you think we should leave?” Violet asked.
“For what?” I asked, deliberately playing dumb. I hoped that Damon’s mention of the afternoon party had been washed from Violet’s memory by the rivers of champagne she’d consumed last night.
“Why, for the party your friend invited us to attend. We are going, aren’t we? It sounds like fun. Plus, Charlotte mentioned her producer will be there, who couldn’t be there last night. Maybe he’s the man who met with Cora,” she said, smoothing invisible folds of her dress with her small hands. Violet was definitely priming herself to be a woman like Charlotte, with a slew of eager men ready to do her bidding and compliment her at any moment. And even though Violet’s preening should have been exasperating, she was so wide-eyed and enthusiastic, like a child playing dress-up, that it was nothing more than adorable. “Are you sure I look all right? I wouldn’t want them to think I was a slattern from the slums. After all, I told them that I was an actress from America. From Cal-eye-forn-ia,” she said, overemphasizing the second syllable.
“California,” I corrected. “And your accent sounds grand.” It was funny. The longer Violet and I spent together, the more we seemed to adopt each other’s accents. She did sound half-convincing as an American, although I was sure that I sounded positively ridiculous using a vague Irish brogue.
Violet nodded. “How do you know Damon again? He kept calling you brother. Is it something all people in America say?” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. I knew if I answered yes, she’d add that phrase to her repertoire. She’d asked me that last night as well, as I was half-escorting, half-carrying her up the stairs, but I hadn’t answered.
“No, most people don’t call each other that unless they’re blood relations, but it’s something Damon’s been calling me ever since I can remember. It’s quite a long and boring story, really,” I lied. “I’ve known Damon forever, through the good and the bad. I know he’s charming, but don’t let him fool you. He’s sometimes not what he appears.” I said the last part semicasually, as if I was mentioning something only somewhat scandalous, like a fondness for drink or a notor
ious family. I only hoped she’d take my warning seriously.
“I’m sure,” she said, giving herself one final glance in the looking glass. “He seems like one of those men whom all women fall over. You’ll be pleased to know that I am not typical.”
“You’re not just saying that so I feel better about going to the party, are you?” I asked, trying to reclaim the teasing tone we’d had yesterday. But something was off.
“I just thought it would be fun,” Violet said, turning toward me and biting her lip.
“You’re right,” I decided. Whether I liked it or not, Damon was in London. And until I was absolutely certain Klaus wasn’t here for revenge, then I wouldn’t be able to get him out of my head.