“Yer shiverin’, my lady. Can ye be cold? Y’ can’t be chilled. It’s July, and from the size o’ my poofy hair, y’can tell how warm ’tis out. I do hope ye aren’ gettin’ a chill. Nothin’ like a chill in the summer, t’make ye miserable, y’know. ”

Victoria steered her thoughts away from that exceedingly active night that had been the culmination-she realized belatedly-of two years of tension between her and Max.

Max, whom she had mistaken for a vampire the first time they met.

Max, who had believed she couldn’t be a successful Venator because, when he’d first met her, she was more concerned about gowns and balls and dance cards-and the gentlemen of the ton .

Max, who had been there when she slayed her husband, Phillip, after he was turned to a vampire by Lilith the Dark.

Max, who was too damned honorable and unselfish to accept what she knew he wanted.

But she’d at last wrung the confession from him.

I didn’t want to love you, but I can’t help it. I don’t want to be without you, but I bloody well will, Victoria. I’ll not go through this again. I’ll not risk your damned neck again. It’s the way it has to be.

Victoria looked at herself in the mirror, tall and slender, now garbed in a striking gown the color of blood. A circlet of diamonds and garnets adorned her throat, and heavy matching earbobs hung against her white neck.

These trappings weren’t the solution to her problem. For a man like Max, she would have to be more subtle. More cunning.

She’d have to appeal to his sense of honor-without appearing to do so.

But… She smiled at herself in the mirror. Looking like this certainly couldn’t hurt.

After all, even Illa Gardella had other weapons besides stakes.

One

Wherein the Marchioness Is Without an Escort

Victoria made certain that her back was to the hallway as she spoke to Verbena. “He’s not doing well, not at all,” she said to her maid. “It has been a most difficult year for him, losing Aunt Eustacia and then his nephew… and now…” She allowed her voice to trail off, and smoothed the rich red gown Verbena had helpe

d her don moments before.

She felt rather than heard the cat-footed presence behind her and looked meaningfully at Verbena.

“Poor Kritanu,” the orange-haired maid was quick to respond. “An’ him losin’ his hand that way… I jus’ don’t know… Mona says he ain’t been eatin’ much and I ’eard him walkin’ the halls jus’ th’other night, my lady. Jus’ walkin’ and walkin’. ”

Kritanu, the elderly man who was Victoria’s martial arts trainer and who had been Aunt Eustacia’s lover and companion for more than fifty years, had suffered several losses in the past several months-the most recent being that of his hand. It had been cut off when he and Sebastian had been captured by a group of Lilith’s minions. Sara Regalado, the leader of the group, had also maimed Sebastian-cutting off the small finger of his left hand.

Kritanu and Max had been close friends for years, ever since Kritanu’s nephew, Briyani, had become Max’s martial arts trainer. Briyani had been brutally murdered by the vampires a few weeks before Kritanu’s injury.

Victoria shook her head as she pulled on the stain-free pink gloves. “I’m quite worried about him,” she added for good measure. “I don’t know what to do. I just hope…” Again her voice trailed off, as if she didn’t want to be overheard.

“Another party tonight?” asked Max as he came into the front hallway. “Ah, the busy life of the dowager Marchioness of Rockley. ” It was hard to tell whether he was coming or going, for he insisted on staying in the servants’ quarters at the rear of the house, and therefore rarely made use of the front entrance.

He was sorely underdressed by Society’s standards, as was his way-his white shirt was rumpled and his neck cloth slightly askew. The dark breeches and coat he wore were well made but certainly not recently pressed, nor were they at the height of fashion. Tonight, his thick, dark hair was pulled back into what Victoria had come to think of as his pirate look-in a short club at the base of his skull, the hair sticking out from the leather thong like the stiff bristles of a brush. With his swarthy skin, dark brows, and angular features, he wouldn’t be considered handsome as much as striking. Imposing. His dark eyes barely glanced over her, as if terrified that by lingering they might be trapped.

“Indeed. Duchess Winnie-of course you’ve met her,” Victoria added with a little laugh.

Max had indeed met Duchess Farnham, one of Victoria’s honorary aunts and a bosom friend of her mother, when the duchess had tried her hand at staking a vampire during a visit in Rome. That vampire had been the Conte Regalado, and had been intent on wooing Victoria’s mother. Victoria still smiled at the memory of the duchess brandishing a stake the thickness of her wrist.

Although, at the time, she’d been doing everything but smiling.

“The duchess is hosting a dance tonight, and of course I dare not miss it. Especially now that the new Marquess of Rockley has suddenly disappeared. All of London is abuzz with that choice bit of gossip,” she said.

Upon his arrival from America to assume his title, Victoria’s deceased husband’s heir had become the victim of vampires. An undead impostor had been introduced into the ton in his place, and had later met the pointed end of Victoria’s stake. As there was no body to be found, the new Rockley had been given up as mysteriously disappeared-a fact that both intrigued and worried the peerage.

“Is Vioget keeping you waiting? No doubt he is still fussing with a new knot on his neck cloth. ” Max sounded supremely bored.

Tags: Colleen Gleason The Gardella Vampire Hunters Vampires
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