The Rest Falls Away (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles 1)

Sebastian's shoulders moved in a careless shrug. "That is all the information you will need, Victoria. You may act on it or choose not to."

"And if you are lying to me, or mistaken in your information, I will suffer the consequences."

Sebastian stirred, sitting up and leaning toward her, his eyes dark slits. "Victoria, I intend this to be only the first of many times for us to meet. Thus, I assure you, I am not lying. And when it comes to matters such as these, I am never mistaken."

Victoria and Verbena did not arrive home until the sun was peeking over the eastern edge of London's profile. Weary, exhilarated, and unbalanced by the events of the night, Victoria did not speak during the ride home, and instead contemplated her next course of action.

Sebastian had given her the direction of the man who had the Book of Antwartha. He also reiterated that the vampires were to steal it in two nights, which was now the very next night, because the owner would be away. If his information was accurate, Victoria had visited the Silver Chalice none too soon. Perhaps that was why Max had been there last night.

Should she tell Aunt Eustacia and, by telling her, inform Max, so that they could work together to obtain the book? Or should she lie in wait for Lilith's men herself, in the event that the information Sebastian gave her was false?

At Grantworth House the hackney pulled up at the curb by a yawning Barth, and Victoria and Verbena slipped down and onto the walk. Hustling toward the servants' entrance, Victoria followed Verbena through the back way, which had been left open by prearrangement, and managed to slink into her room without being noticed by any of the servants. Lady Melly would sleep until after noon, and to her knowledge, Victoria had come home from a dinner party with the headache.

Verbena helped her undress, and Victoria fell gratefully onto her feather bed. Just as she was drifting off to sleep she remembered: Tonight she was to see Phillip at the Madagascar' ball. Perhaps there would be an opportunity for him to kiss her again.

She smiled into her pillow.

"Why is it," Phillip murmured as he drew Victoria close to his side, "that I must always beat a path through a throng of bucks if I wish to dance with you?"

Her wrist tucked betwixt his arm and his side, she allowed her hip to sway against his as they strolled away. "They were not there to speak only to me," she replied, turning up her face to smile at him. "Gwendolyn Starcasset has quite a following as well."

"That may be so, but most of them were panting over your hand, not hers."

"You are too kind, sir," she replied with a coy smile.

His arm tightened hers against his side. "I am not kind whatsoever," Phillip replied. "In fact, I have not one whit of kindness toward those fops."

"And what of the mamas and belles who moon over your handsome face and bulging purse?"

"I am soon to put them out of their misery. Would you care for something to drink, Victoria?"

She could only nod and try not to stare up at him. Soon to put them out of their misery? Could he mean what she thought he meant? Her skin flushed warm and she was grateful for the cup of punch in which she could bury her face.

It was only yesterday that he'd kissed her in the park, and despite her unsettling experience at the Silver Chalice, Victoria had awakened late in the day today remembering the taste of his lips. Wondering if tonight he would take the opportunity again.

A proper lady wasn't supposed to think about kissing a man to whom she was not married, or at least betrothed. But since she'd received her vis bulla, Victoria had moved far beyond being a proper lady. Killing vampires. Wearing trousers. Walking the streets at night.

Showing her navel to strange men.

What would Phillip think if he saw her vis bulla!

Her face grew hotter than ever, and Phillip must have noticed, for he said, "Are you feeling quite all right, Victoria? Shall we step outside for some air?"

"Yes, I would like that."

Just outside the ballroom's grand French doors, Victoria and Phillip paused on the terrace. Two other couples stood at the waist-high railing, looking down over the weaving pathways and clusters of hedge that made up the Madagascars' walking garden. A gentle sweep of steps led from the center of the stone terrace down into the vegetation below.

Phillip released Victoria's arm and slid his around the back of her waist, guiding her along the railing. A gardenia tree, laden with creamy white blossoms, grew up from below and was near enough that he could choose a flower and offer it to her.

"For my lady," he said, holding it out to her. "I wanted to bring forget-me-nots, but they are out of season."

Victoria smiled as she accepted the gardenia, amazed as always by the intense fragrance that came from a single flower. She noticed that Phillip had moved them along the terrace to a more private corner, still within the bounds of propriety as they stood out in the open in a well-lit area, but away from the wide-flung doors and chatter of the ballroom. The other couples lingering in the night air appeared not to notice their presence. She recognized one of them as Lord Truscott of the inept feet and Miss Emily Colton.

Phillip turned to face her, crowding her gently toward the railing, and she tipped her face up. His dark hair rose well above his forehead, not one lock daring to fall from its high-brushed moorings even when he looked down at her. The look in his half-mast eyes made her hands damp, and she smiled nervously.

"Victoria," he said in a rumbling voice that carried to only her ears. "You must know that I have never forgotten you, and my regard for you has grown since we have renewed our acquaintance."

At that moment Victoria felt a prickle of cold air over the back of her neck. She started, so sudden was the sensation, and so unexpected. Why now?

Phillip was looking at her in concern. "Victoria?"

"Go on, please. You… were saying?" She smiled. Perhaps it was only a chill spring breeze.

He took both of her hands then, and drew each of them, one at a time, to his lips, pressing a brief kiss onto the back and then the palms of each one. "When I made the decision to look for a bride, I anticipated that it would take me nearly as long to settle on one as it had taken me to decide to look."

It was not a breeze. The chill had become harsher, more intense. Victoria, who stood with the railing behind her and the light of the ballroom spilling out in front of her, tried to keep her attention on Phillip. She smiled up at her suitor, even as it became clear that the vampire was not in the ballroom.

He or she was here, outside. Likely with a chosen victim.