Rises The Night (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 2)

Gwendolyn, of course, didn’t know the half of what had occurred, thanks to Eustacia’s glittering gold medallion—which had been used to alter the memories of all of the guests at Claythorne. “And now, dear Gwendolyn, and G—Mr. Starcasset, I am terribly sorry that I must beg your leave. My carriage is waiting, and the ship on which we are to sail is expecting me to arrive momentarily.” Victoria drew her friend into a farewell embrace, realizing with a start that Gwendolyn was her only real friend her age. Yet another reminder that the other half of Victoria’s world was so very different from the one that Gwendolyn inhabited.

Just as it had been for Phillip.

Perhaps if she’d used Eustacia’s medallion on Phillip, things might have turned out differently.

Victoria was drawn abruptly from her regrettable reverie when George bent over her gloved hand to brush his lips against it.

When he lifted his face, he pulled her hand up and stepped toward her, so that his words were for her ears only. “Your departure shall put quite a damper on my intended courtship, Lady Rockley.” He pressed a kiss to the underside of her properly gloved fingers, then to the tips. “Godspeed, Victoria—if I may be so bold as to call you that…and if you should have the urge, I would welcome any correspondence from you during your time away.” He couldn’t help that his clean, boyish looks made him appear rather more like an earnest schoolboy than a serious beau. But, she allowed, despite the broad smile and the dismay in his eyes, he could be charming. And in spite of the circumstances, Victoria felt rather pleased at having the attention of a man again. She had been lonely.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied. “I’m not known as an excellent correspondent, but I shall endeavor not to disappoint you. And when I return, we shall have to discuss this idea you have of courting me.” With a smile that she realized was rather more flirtatious than she’d intended, she withdrew her fingers and nodded for Filbert to open the front door. “Farewell, Gwendolyn. I shall notify you immediately upon my return.”

Victoria saw that the Starcasset siblings were safely in their ornately sprung carriage before the tall, broad man named Oliver opened the door of her own.

The door closed behind her, she sank down in her seat and realized she was not alone. “Sebastian? Blast it, how on earth did you get here? And in your shirtsleeves again!”

There he was, lounging in the corner of the seat across from hers. She hadn’t noticed him when she climbed in because she was looking at her seat, and he had been prudent enough to keep his feet off the floor—where she would certainly have spied them as she climbed in.

If nothing else, the man had a talent for appearing unexpectedly—and looking utterly casual about it.

He sat with his legs extended along the length of the seat, his back propped against one wall of the coach. His curly-brimmed hat sat in his lap, held in place by two elegant hands. His dark jacket had been removed and was hanging from a hook above his feet. He smiled lazily as she arranged her gown primly on her seat, lurching slightly as the carriage started off.

“At least he’s not as reckless as Barth is,” Victoria muttered.

“Who? Ah…your new driver. He is a right accommodating fellow, this Oliver. Oh, yes, I was very pleased to get his name and a good portion of his pedigree while we were at it. It was no difficult task to send him off to speak to the other carriage’s driver whilst you were exchanging fond farewells with your paramour, George—who, I am quite certain, is devastated by your leaving England. And as it was, Oliver’s earnest discussion with the Starcassets’ footman allowed me the opportunity to avail myself of the extra seat in your carriage.” His lips closed, settling in a complacent smile, as the carriage made a gentle turn.

“Surely you too aren’t here to bewail the fact that our courtship will be on hiatus for several months while I’m in Italy,” Victoria replied, trying to keep from looking at those lips. She remembered well enough what they felt like; she didn’t need to be reminded of their sensual shape.

With him in it, the carriage seemed much smaller than it really was, and if she had been paying closer attention, rather than reflecting on the unexpected visit of the Starcasset siblings, she would have noticed the sharp smell of cloves that laced the air as soon as she’d stepped foot in the carriage.

She didn’t even begin to wonder how Sebastian knew she was leaving for Italy at this time. He certainly must have an idea as to why she was going, for he’d found Polidori’s notes. But his timing, as always, was disgustingly perfect. It was a boon for him that she’d sent Verbena ahead with the bulk of her luggage and some furnishings in order to get her cabin arranged on the ship; otherwise, he would have had to find a way to get rid of her too. The bloody thing about it—he would have succeeded.

“Courtship? That’s a rather strong word for what I had in mind.”

He must have chosen his position in the carriage purposely so as to keep his face in as much shadow as possible. Again. She needed to make a point of meeting him sometime in full daylight.

“Whatever it is you had in mind,” she replied coolly, “will have to be interrupted while I am gone. Unless you planned on finishing it during the ride to the docks?”

Her g

entle taunt surprised her as much as it surprised him, if the widening of his eyes and sudden grin were any indication.

“Well, now,” he said, swinging his feet to the floor and sitting upright. “That wasn’t precisely the reason I slipped into your carriage, Victoria…but if you insist, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“I was merely attempting to understand why you would have invaded my carriage as I was leaving the country. I didn’t mean to suggest I would go along with it.”

His eyes were no longer shadowed. Now she could see their rich amber, and the interest that glittered there. “Of course you didn’t, Victoria. At least, with your words. The rest of you says otherwise… However, I regret to inform you that despite my extreme interest in picking up where we left off last summer…in a very similar setting,” he added, gesturing to include the interior of the carriage, “I did not invade, as you call it, your carriage for that reason. I didn’t want to call on you for fear of being seen.”

“By whom?”

He shrugged, spreading those well-formed hands that looked as if they’d never done a day’s work. “By anyone. I don’t know who or what is lurking about, and I thought it would be best if we continued, for all intents and purposes, not to know each other.”

“I think your suggestion is merely an excuse for you to find mysterious ways of suddenly appearing.” Victoria glanced out the window. “We’re nearly to the docks. If you have something you wish to say to me, now would be a good time to stop prevaricating and do so, please, Sebastian.”

“I do love to hear you ask so prettily. Perhaps if I declined, you might be consigned to beg?” With exaggerated pursed lips, he settled back against the seat. “I thought not. Damned shame. Well, then…I suppose I'd best tell you what else I learned about Polidori when I attended to—er—his belongings.” Now Sebastian looked at her, his gaze sober. “He wore the brand of the Tutela. He was a member.”

“Brand?”

‘‘A symbol printed on the skin. It’s called a tattoo and it’s made with ink and cannot be obliterated. He had the symbol of an ornate T intertwined with a snake on his upper arm, the historical symbol of the Tutela. The hound that is on the amulet is the symbol of the new movement rising in Italy.”