It wasn't quite as easy getting to the Silver Chalice as Victoria had envisioned it. She'd forgotten that her fiance was taking her to the theater that evening. And she'd rather been looking forward to seeing the latest rendition of Master Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew.
She told herself that the odd squirming feeling in her middle had nothing to do with the fact that she would see Sebastian again… it was because she hoped Phillip wouldn't question her when she claimed the headache immediately at the end of the play.
That way she could see the program, but then be required to return home immediately instead of arriving late at a posttheater ball or taking a stroll through Covent Gardens. The curtain rose at seven thirty and the theater normally let out by eleven.
If Barth were there with his hackney by midnight, that would give Victoria plenty of opportunity to pay a visit to the Silver Chalice and return home in time to get several hours of sleep before her wedding gown fitting.
Perfect.
And it actually worked according to plan. There weren't even any vampires at the Drury Lane Theatre, nor did even the slightest chill skitter across Victoria's neck during the trip there and back. In fact, there had been a dearth of vampires since the fights at Redfield Manor, and Victoria began to wonder if she and Max had fairly cleared out a good portion of Lilith's army. Perhaps the vampire queen had gone into hiding and was licking her wounds, or, better yet, perhaps she'd left the country.
"Are you certain there is nothing I can do for you?" asked Phillip as he led her up the walk to Grantworth House. He was clearly disappointed at having their evening cut short, but he'd handled it with grace and concern, as she'd known he would.
"Thank you, darling, but a bit of rest and Verbena's peppermint tea is all I need. I am sure to be fresh as a daisy tomorrow," she told him. "And I had best be so, for Madame LeClaire is attending me for a gown fitting. "
Jimmons had opened the door for them, and Phillip followed Victoria over the threshold. "Now that, my lovely, is something I would pay dearly to see. " His smile, warm and crooked, told her that he knew it was only a matter of time before he would have his desire fulfilled.
Glancing about as if to assure himself that Jimmons had retreated, Phillip took her shoulders, and under the gentle pressure of his fingers she stepped toward him. Her breasts brushed the buttons of his coat, the folds of her skirt jutted around and between his trousers, and one foot slid between his.
Another guiding movement from his fingers, and she came closer and had to draw in her breath because they were close, touching at hip, thigh, and foot. And then mouth. Warm, slick, tender, he kissed her.
If she'd truly been suffering from a headache, Victoria was sure it would have flown as easily from her head as all other thought actually did.
"I know you aren't feeling quite the thing," he murmured near her lips when they paused, foreheads heavy against each other, "but I can't resist. " His nose slid against hers as he dipped to kiss her again.
When he finally set her away from him, just as carefully as he'd drawn her near, Victoria opened her eyes. She had to blink in order to focus, and was deliciously pleased to see that his normally half-lidded eyes were even droopier. He looked as though he wanted to slip back into her arms with the same ease and comfort of sliding into a feather bed. But warmer. More inviting.
"Good night, Phillip," she heard herself say as he stepped away, still holding her hand. Her palm, then fingers, then the very tips of them, slid through his grip as he released her. The door was behind him. Still looking at her with those half-closed eyes, meaningful and determined, he reached for the knob, turned it, and slipped out into the night.
"Well, if that wasn't a kiss of true love, I don't know what is. "
Victoria spurt to see Verbena standing at the bottom of the staircase—lud, she hadn't even heard her approach!—with a decidedly wistful expression on her face. "Love's not necessary to a well-matched marriage," Victoria said firmly, "but it certainly doesn't hurt. Now, is Barth here?"
"He's been waiting just around the corner for the marquess to leave," Verbena replied. "Are you certain I cannot go with you tonight?"
"No, I thank you, Verbena, but I will go alone. Barth will deliver me safely and I'll be home before dawn. You'll need to be here in case my mother asks for me. She was concerned when I left the theater, as I told her I wasn't feeling well. Now, I had best be on my way if I hope to get any sleep tonight. "
"Barth will wait while you change your gown. "
"No, but I will take my dark red cloak. Its hood will help to hide my face. " In the event that Max was also at the Silver Chalice.
When she alighted from Barth's hackney forty minutes later, Big Ben had just struck half past midnight. Under the heavy cloak, Victoria held the pistol she'd remembered to bring this time—there would be no Verbena to come to the rescue tonight. She also had three stakes in various locations on her person; her indispensable, which held a vial of salted holy water; and a large crucifix tucked into her relatively high bodice. That last had been at Verbena's insistence, for if she was not allowed to go, she would ensure that her mistress was well protected.
Well protected she would be from vampires. And armed with the pistol, she would be safe from other predators.
But for some reason, when she thought about Sebastian Vioget, she was not altogether certain how secure she would be.
The Silver Chalice had more empty tables than it had the last time Victoria had been there; but since there'd been only one at that time, and there were three this time, she did not think it was any indication of a dearth of business.
Under the cloak's hood and the low coil of her hair, Victoria's neck bristled with chill as though an arctic wind blasted it. At the bottom of the steep stairs she paused to glance around, looking for anyone she knew.
Amelie, the platinum-haired pianist who'd sat with Verbena the last time, was at her place to the left. She bore the same melancholy look Victoria remembered from before, and played the same sad, drawn-out music. Max was not here, and neither, as far as she could see, was Sebastian.
Drawing back the hood of her cloak, Victoria stepped from the shadows near the stairs and started toward a table. Berthy, the rude serving woman, remembered her, even though Victoria had been dressed in man's clothing the last time. Apparently Sebastian had been right about its not hiding her gender. Berthy sloshed by with two hands full of tankards and gave Victoria a nudge that resulted in a splash on her cloak. "He said to come to the back rooms. "
Victoria didn't waste the energy wondering how Sebastian knew she'd arrived; perhaps he'd told Berthy to give her those instructions regardless of when she came. She started toward the brick wall where the door was, then changed her mind and selected a seat at an empty table with three chairs.
On her way back to the bar, Berthy paused by Victoria's table just long enough to ask, "Wot's it to be?"