The Bleeding Dusk (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles 3)

Even if it irked her. But as she released her breath slowly and evenly, as Kritanu had taught her, she merely lifted her eyebrows—both of them, in direct contrast to Max’s single eyebrow lifting—and waited for him to continue.

“We know that Sara Regalado attempted to kidnap you, so it’s likely that she and her father are interested in the key, or something else related to the villa. There are no Palombaras in Roma, yet there are vampires—we presume—who are attempting to find the keys and open the Door of Alchemy. It is possible, do you not think, that someone is pretending to be the Palombaras, and opening the deserted villa up to this…party tonight in the hopes of finding the key?”

“And that they might indeed be vampires or Tutela members?” Victoria added. “Yes. Which is why I have asked Zavier to attend…as my mother’s escort.”

Now it was her turn to settle back in the chair. “I will be attending, Max, but anonymously. I don’t particularly wish to be recognized by any vampires who might be at the treasure hunt tonight. And especially since my mother was invited by the Tarruscelli twins, whom I already know to be acquaintances of the Regalados, I was well aware of the dangers of promenading up to the villa unsuspectingly.”

“So you plan to sneak into the villa yourself?”

Victoria nodded. “I’ll make up some excuse in the carriage on the way to the party that will allow me to leave Zavier as escort for my mother and the others while I pretend to return home.”

“Brilliant, Victoria. You’ve thought the whole thing through.” Max nodded as if bestowing a great favor on her. “I’ll meet you there and we can find our way in together.”

She didn’t say anything. It would have given him too much satisfaction.

Besides, she’d expected nothing less from him.

Eight

In Which Our Heroine Is Forced into a Gown and Its Accoutrements

Victoria slipped her hand through Zavier’s arm after they alighted from the carriage at the entrance to the Villa Palombara.

She was dressed as if she were attending a ball at Almack’s, attired more formally and finely than she’d been in months. Despite the inconvenience of wearing a gown in a situation that could become anything but sedate, deep in the most feminine part of her it had been worth it to see the expression on Zavier’s face when she came into the sitting room, ready to leave. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to dress for an evening out.That part of her life was so far behind her now, so submerged, it was like a dream.

Lady Winnie had indeed spoken to her maid, Rudgers, who had unfairly taken poor Verbena to task. That had given Verbena at last an excuse to dress her mistress as befitted the marchioness she was. Her gown was a pink pearl hue, made of silk and trimmed with dark pink rosettes in two rows along the flounced hemline. More rosettes clustered at the tops of her sleeves in small red-and-white bouquets with long, grass-green ribbons dangling to brush her arms. The sleeves were short caps, but Victoria had pink gloves that reached from fingertip to past her elbow, so despite the fact that her wrap was little more than a cobweb of white lace, her arms were not chilled.

Rather than the simple plait she’d taken to wearing, Victoria’s coiffure was an intricate gathering of tiny braids, spiraling curls, and pink pearls at the back of her crown. It left her long white neck bare except for pale rubies that dangled from her ears, and the silver cross that sat at the base of her throat.

Into the coiffure, Verbena had slid one of the decorated stakes she and Oliver had taken to creating for their vampire hunter mistress. This particular one was long and slender—but thick enough to be deadly to a vampire—with roses carved on the handle and the whole stake painted pink. Victoria had been able to convince Verbena to leave off the feathers this time, although two pearls had found their way into the centers of the roses.

Beneath all these accoutrements of feminity was Miro’s latest creation in the battle against the undead: a special corset. The idea had come from Verbena initially. Not only did she take her mistress’s fashion seriously, but she was also the only maid in London who fussed over weapons and tools.

Flimsy slippers allowed every little stone to poke through to her soles as she and Zavier, with Lady Nilly on his other arm, walked up to the entrance of the villa. They followed in the wake of the ladies Melly and Winnie.

“It isn’t very festive,” Lady Winnie said, her comment loud enough for Victoria to hear from behind, and obviously forgetting that they weren’t attending a party. “It’s as if there’s hardly anyone here. Not even a footman to help us down from the carriage! I know the family hasn’t lived here for decades, but one would think they would have cleaned up a bit before having us.”

“It’s a treasure hunt,” Lady Nilly trilled, edging closer to Zavier. “It’s the atmosphere! Intriguing, foreboding, haunting…”

“And it isn’t as if it’s to be a crush of a ball,” Lady Melly added, glancing back at her daughter. “It was made very clear that tonight is not a celebration of any kind, and only very few were invited. We were lucky enough to be asked. If it weren’t for Barone Tarruscelli, who gave us their own invitation, we shouldn’t have been included at all.”

It was indeed an eerie, strange atmosphere. The mansion itself was hidden by the same tall wall Victoria and Ylito had climbed through to get to the Door of Alchemy, which was at the opposite end of the vast grounds of the estate, set away from the main building of the villa. Behind the crumbling wall, the manor house was gloomy and dark.

Instead of the great light spilling from numerous windows that would accompany most fetes or dinner parties or soirees, the building had only a small yellow glow from the front entrance. The door opened, giving just a brief glimpse of a butler, and then closed behind a cluster of people, as though loath to waste its illumination on the night.

Indeed, the line of carriages dropping off guests was hardly a line at all, for there weren’t so very many guests. This was a fact that had not escaped Victoria, and as they approached the door and it opened again she paused, edging into the welcome shadows so that no one inside could see her. She wondered not for the first time whether it had been by accident or design that the mother of a Venator had been invited to attend.

Zavier stopped, urging Lady Melly to go on ahead as Victoria pretended to adjust her loose slipper. The older woman, thrilled by the same environment that set her daughter’s instincts on edge, did not hesitate and gladly entered the door, opened by a butler who barely stepped far enough away for them to enter. She was followed by Lady Nilly and Lady Winnie.