Rises The Night (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 2)
He raised his brows. “Indeed? And here I thought my desire for you was quite flagrant.”
The blush returned with his forthright words. She’d never heard it put aloud, so bluntly and boldly. But she would ignore it. For now. “So I am to attend alone?”
“No, that would be awkward at best. I happen to be acquainted with two young women who are also friends of Conte Regalado’s daughter, Sarafina. They will be attending tonight and were more than happy to include you in their party. As Mrs. Withers, of course—the recent widow who seeks solace from the loss of her husband. Along with some distraction, and perhaps a chance at immortality.”
“Two young women?” Victoria looked at him knowingly. “So that explains where you have been for the last three days.”
“Does it
?” His smile was enigmatic, and to her annoyance, she found herself…well, annoyed.
“Perhaps I might learn more about your many secrets whilst I am in their company this evening,” she replied with a teasing smile of her own. “It will be rather interesting.”
“Hmm…perhaps I spoke too soon.” But he was chuckling, his tiger eyes lit with humor. “Their names are Portiera and Placidia Tarruscelli, and they have agreed to call for you at eight o’clock. It would not do, apparently, to be on time to such an event.”
“I see that Society in Rome is no different from back home,” Victoria commented. “Very well, then, I shall be prepared for their arrival at eight. Thank you very much, Sebastian, for the assistance you’ve given us in this.”
He took her hand and raised it to his lips for a rather tame kiss, as Sebastian kisses went. “I hope you shall still be grateful when this is all over.”
+ + +
Portiera and Placidia Tarruscelli were dark-eyed, dark-haired beauties with voluptuous figures, and each with a small mole on the side of their luscious pink mouths: Portiera’s was at the left of her lips, Placidia’s was on the right. They were twins.
Victoria couldn’t help but wonder just how well Sebastian knew them.
Everything about them was in duplicate: their gowns (one in garnet and one in mauve), their reticules (one beaded with pearls, the other with jet beads)…even their compliments on Victoria’s spring green gown came in rapid succession, with slight variation—one loved the lace around the bodice, the other adored the three layers of ruffles at the hem.
When she sat across from them on the carriage ride to the Regalado villa, Victoria felt as though she were being accosted by two twittering cats—cats didn’t twitter, but they did move sinuously and had a certain slumberous look about their eyes. The nonstop commentary and questions, punctuated with giggles and squeals, accounted for the twittering part.
Victoria was fluent in Italian, and the twins in English, so their conversation was easy and multilingual. And exceedingly difficult to keep straight.
While one twin asked a question regarding London, the other was following a train of thought along the lines of fashion, asking different things. And to Victoria’s added confusion, they switched back and forth in their prattle, each picking up the other’s conversational thread until she was never quite sure to whom she was responding at any given moment.
She was delighted when they finally arrived at the villa.
Inside the spacious home, past the traditional Roman fountains that graced the arching entranceways, Victoria and the Tarruscelli twins were announced and then passed through into the main ballroom.
It was not outfitted for dancing tonight, although a string quartet played unobtrusively in one corner. There were paintings hung on every wall, all, by the looks of them, in the hand of the same mediocre artist. Apparently Sebastian and Victoria shared a similar opinion of Regalado’s art.
In the center of one of the short walls of the rectangular room was a small dais where the orchestra would normally play during a ball, but where tonight’s highlight was the latest painting by Regalado.
Victoria nearly laughed aloud when she saw it. A portrait it was indeed, of the Tarruscelli twins and their moles flanking a pretty blond girl of the same age and proportions. They were painted to represent the three Fates, each in a flowing Grecian gown that exposed a shoulder here and rather quite a lot of a bosom there. Six nipples pointed through their flimsy garments.
“Do you recognize me?” asked someone next to Victoria, speaking in heavily accented English.
She turned. “You must be Signorina Regalado, the artist’s daughter.”
“Si, and you must be the inglese friend Portiera and Placidia brought tonight. Emmaline Withers? I am so very pleased to meet you, I could not wait for them to introduce us. I came immediato to discorrere with you.”
Victoria glanced about the room to find escape; the last thing she needed this night was to be commandeered by another young and foolish girl. She had work to do. “Grazie for your hospitality, signorina—”
“Oh, favore, I am Sara to you! I am so pleased to practice my inglese with another woman. Men do not know the importante words. Such as lace and ruffles and gloves and flounces and—”
“Where is your father? I should like to congratulate him on such a lovely piece of work.” Victoria interrupted before she was treated to an entire list of every fashion term under the sun. “He has made you look so beautiful.”
“My amore has said the same thing.” Sara beamed and slipped her arm through Victoria’s. “I shall introduce you to him later, but first I would like you to meet my father, and also two of your countrymen. They do not wish to speak on fashions with me, so I shall push you in their faces and make them geloso.”
When Sara at last located her father, who was standing with a group of three other men at the other side of the room, she nearly towed Victoria over to them. Victoria was not the least bit reluctant to meet the count, of course, for if he were one of the more prominent members of the Tutela, it would behoove her to make friends with him.