The Vampire Dimitri (Regency Draculia 2)

“Oh,” she said, freezing in the entrance. Not Corvindale.

It was Dewhurst…and Angelica. They were standing in the middle of the chamber, in an embrace whose image immediately replaced the last bit of horror from Maia’s dream.

“Maia,” said Angelica, pulling away from what looked like a very passionate kiss…among other things. Her lips were swollen and her cheeks a lovely dusky rose. Dewhurst didn’t release her, and she didn’t seem to be interested in putting space between them, either. “Is everything all right?”

Maia swallowed, trying to ignore the heat that had rushed to her face and surely made it bright red. “I heard voices and thought perhaps the earl had returned, or been found.”

Dewhurst shook his head, and Maia couldn’t tear her eyes from the way his elegant hand curled comfortably around her sister’s neck, a finger sliding up into the loose braid at her nape. It was such a simple gesture, yet very intimate. So casual, bespeaking of a deep and comfortable connection.

A rush of envy shuttled through her and she was instantly ashamed. Alexander was a good man and he cared for her.

He might not make her insides billow and burn when he kissed her, but he was financially comfortable and unfailingly polite and rather boring. She stopped any further thoughts right there.

“I’ve spoken with Cale, and have sent word to Chas—”

Dewhurst was saying.

“How do you do that? Do you know where he is?”

He looked uncomfortable. “There are ways we do it with blood pigeons and private messengers and other techniques.

But that’s beside the point. I just came here to…er…” He looked at Angelica and the heat that passed between them with a mere glance was enough to make Maia’s knees weak.

“He came to report that there isn’t any news about Corvindale,” Angelica said. At last she stepped away from her fiancé, and for the first time, Maia noticed that her sister was garbed in no more than a night rail, as well. “And to let me know that he was safe.”

“We’re doing everything we can to find him. When Woodmore returns, I’m certain he’ll have other ideas about where to look and how to track him. One would expect Moldavi to be involved somehow, and since Dim—Corvindale isn’t one to…uh…spend time around women, whoever was there and dropped the hairpin is likely in Moldavi’s employ. And now that I can move about in the day, it gives me more freedom.”

Angelica looked at him. “But you are no longer Dracule. Which makes you more vulnerable.”

Dewhurst waved this off in the way men did when a woman raised an issue they preferred to ignore. “But I’m smart and fast and I no longer have an Asthenia.”

“Your Asthenia now is a bullet,” Angelica reminded him flatly. “As well as a sword, a stake and many other implements. Not to mention fire, and…” Her voice trailed off. “Please take care.” These last words were little more than a heartfelt sigh, leaving Maia to feel like more of an intruder than ever.

“And you, as well,” he said, looking at both of them. “That’s the other reason I’ve come. Cale and I have arranged for more guards to keep watch over you now that Corvindale is missing. Both day and night. I suspect Moldavi has had him removed so he can more easily get to one of you. So don’t go anywhere without an escort—particularly at night.”

“But vampires cannot move about during the day,” Angelica argued. “We’re safe enough shopping and visiting the park.”

“Corvindale was taken during the day,” Dewhurst reminded her flatly. “Do as I say, Ange.”

“I suppose I should return to my bed,” Maia said, turning toward the door. Why she felt so bereft was one thing, but the other thought that followed her as she climbed the stairs was the realization that she, the very proper Miss Woodmore, had just left her sister and a man alone in the study with hardly a second thought. At night.

What had changed her?

Maia slept fitfully for the rest of the night, and in the morning the first thing she did was send a message to Alexander that the wedding would need to be postponed until her guardian returned.

And then she sat down at the breakfast table. Alone.

Maia couldn’t remember ever feeling so…alone. Angelica was clearly deeply in love with her viscount and didn’t have time for sisterly talks—although it appeared that they might have much to talk about, if the position of Dewhurst’s hands on her last night was any indication.

Even the thought of where they’d been made Maia blush.

She sat down with another batch of invitations and calling cards, determined to remind herself where she’d seen the hairpin. Only partway through her first piece of toast and cup of tea, the dining room door opened to reveal Betty.

“I’ve got some news for you, miss,” she said. Betty was a plump, cheery woman old enough to be Maia’s mother—or at least a much older sister. Her eyes were glinting with pleasure as she approached. “Tracy Mayes, who works for the Gallingways—easy way to remember with a bit of rhyme—says that Rosie over to the Yarmouths’ knows she’s seen that same type of hairpin before. It didn’t have no rubies, but sapphires, though.”

Maia felt a spark of excitement. “It was the same, just different gems? It must be made by the same jeweler. Who had the hairpin?”

“That’s what I thought, too, miss. I could send over to one of the servants at her house. It was a Mrs. Rina Throckmullins, and Rosie said as she met her and her maid at the milliner’s last week. She remembered it because it was such a rainy day, and they shared an umbrella when they left the shop, so she had a good look at the pins in her hair, huddled as they were under it. Mrs. Throckmullins is a…well, miss, I’m not one to speak out of line. But she’s a single woman who ain’t looking for a husband, if you know what I mean.”

Which meant she was a woman who interacted with men outside of wedlock. Likely of the demimonde, or perhaps even a widow who didn’t move about in the ton. Which would have made it fairly impossible for Maia to have met her at a Society function. So she must have caught a glimpse of it somewhere else, as she’d previously surmised.

Giving a mental shrug, Maia finished her toast, contemplating this new information. Perhaps Mrs. Throckmullins wasn’t the owner of the ruby hairpin, but at least knew the designer. It was the best lead she had so far, and Maia decided it was worth investigating. She’d have to wait until the afternoon when social calls were made.