The Rest Falls Away (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles 1)

Victoria returned the marquess's smile. "I may feel the pressure, but I have no intention of succumbing to it."

He looked startled. "You do not wish to wed? Does your mother know this?"

"It isn't that I do not want to marry; that I definitely intend to do," she explained truthfully as he twirled her around the floor. "It's that I have no intention of being rushed into making a decision that will affect me for the rest of my life." Especially since she'd just made such a decision in accepting the Gardella Legacy.

But that was different.

It wasn't as if any other woman—or man—crowding the ball tonight would have such a choice to make.

The surprise in his face evaporated. "I can certainly understand that sentiment, Miss Grantworth. I'm not certain that your mother, who is, at this moment, watching us with a definitely plotting expression on her face, would agree with you, but I can fully relate."

Victoria smiled up at him, a burst of pleasure trilling through her at the joy of being spun gently across the floor by the Marquess of Rockley, no less. Surely Rockley was the handsomest, most charming, and wealthiest unattached man at the ball. And he was looking down at her with quite obvious interest.

"Miss Grantworth, I have a confession to make."

"Oh?" she asked, raising her eyebrows delicately.

Every time she looked at him, she felt a gentle churning in her stomach—an expectant, pleasant churning.

"We once met long ago… and I have not been able to forget you."

"It does feel as though we've met," she replied. "I have been wondering on that myself… but I must confess that I do not recall when or where it was."

"Your forthrightness pains me, Miss Grantworth, but I must tell you the story. Perhaps it will stir your memory. Some of my father's holdings abutted Prewitt Shore, your family estate, I believe. And one summer many years ago—I was perhaps sixteen—I was riding one of the stallions from the stable. One that I was not, of course, supposed to ride," he added with the hint of a proud smile, "but, of course, I was a daredevil and I did. I came barreling across a meadow, not realizing I had strayed onto the lands of our neighbor, and—Ah, but you do remember now, don't you?"

Victoria's face had lightened with a smile. "Phillip! I knew you only as Phillip; you did not tell me you were the marquess's son!" The image was with her; it had been buried in the recesses of her mind, that summer when she was but twelve, but now it came back as though it were yesterday: a sturdy, dark-haired young man flying across the fields on a hot summer day. "You jumped over the fence and your mount landed, and so did you—on the ground in a tumble!"

He laughed ruefully, his square jaw softened by the movement. "Indeed, and I suffered for my boldness. But I met you, the pretty, dark-haired girl who rushed to my aid and made certain I was cared for. And you even chased down Ranger, the stallion, so that he would not return to the stables without me and tell the tale of my deceit. If I recall… once you were sure that I wasn't gravely injured, you spent the next ten minutes chastising me for my foolishness. The image of you standing above me, calmly holding the reins of that large chestnut gelding, and flaying me with your tongue, has stayed with me always."

Victoria looked away demurely. "I must have been quite bold to speak so to a man I did not know."

"Indeed, and it was your boldness and your fearlessness that intrigued me. I have not forgotten you, Miss Grantworth, for you made quite a lasting impression on that young man. And," he added as the dance music came to a close, "it has become clear that you have lost none of your boldness, nor your opinions, nor your originality… for I am quite certain that there is not another debutante in this room, or in the ton, that is as unconcerned about finding a husband as you are."

"And I have never truly forgotten the young man who rode with such carefree abandon in a manner that I only dreamed of doing. I envied you that. And I can hardly comprehend that you are the same boy that I knew for a few weeks! The marquess's son—I would never have known it."

He smiled down at her, and warmth returned to her face. "Someday, perhaps we will ride together, Miss Grantworth. And you can try your hand at leaping over fences and bounding across fields. I promise, I will tell no one."

"And that is a promise on which I will hold you to your gentlemanly word."

When they finished dancing, Lord Rockley returned her to her mother and Lady Winnie. "I am rather thirsty; perhaps you are as well. May I provide you with some lemonade, Miss Grantworth? And, of course, Lady Melisande and Your Grace?"

"Oh, do not trouble yourself, Lord Rockley," Victoria's mother warbled. "But I am sure Victoria would love something to drink."

Victoria gave Lord Rockley a surreptitious wink, but slipped her hand from his grasp. "I'm sorry, my lord, but I see my next dancing partner approaching. Perhaps you will be thirsty later?"

"Of course, my lady. I'm certain I'll have a thirst for the remainder of the evening." His eyelids swept to half-mast and he gave her a meaningful smile as he captured her gloved hand and lifted it to his lips.

Lord Stackley was Victoria's partner for the quadrille, and he led her through the paces with alacrity, if not with skill. Despite the fact that he stepped squarely on her feet twice during the first set with all of his solid weight, Victoria barely noticed. The vis bulla was not only good for fighting vampires… it was protection against clumsy gentlemen!

After Lord Stackley, she danced with Baron Ledbetter. Another quadrille. And then with Lady Gwendolyn's eldest brother, Lord Starcasset, Viscount Claythorne.

But it was during another waltz, with the tall and gangly Baron Truscott, that Victoria felt a familiar chill lift the hair at the back of her neck. Until that moment she had almost forgotten the fact that there were things to worry about other than whether her toes would be mangled before the night was over.

As Truscott spun her around, not nearly as elegantly as had Rockley, but with some efficiency, Victoria scanned the dancers and the others in the room. She would not make the same mistake as before, assuming the predator was the one who looked most like she'd expected a vampire to look: tall, dark, and arrogant.

After a moment she was fairly certain that a man with brown hair and a rather hooked nose, who stood with a young woman she didn't recognize, was the vampire whose presence she'd felt. She kept one eye focused on the couple as Truscott managed their way betwixt and between the other dancers. As long as they remained in the room, the young woman was safe. It would give Victoria time to extricate herself from Truscott and figure out a way to get the vampire alone.