"Phillip? I am fine. I am not hurt at all. What is wrong?"
"I heard someone scream, and I thought it was you! You weren't on the terrace when I came back." He realized he'd dropped her wrap somewhere along the way, and he slipped his arm around her waist. After all, she had accepted his proposal. Although it wasn't official, they were engaged. It was proper enough.
"I dropped my indispensable from the terrace, and when I went down to get it, I heard a woman… talking, arguing—she sounded as if she were in danger."
"So you went after her to help?" Phillip wanted to shake her, his fragile love. "You could have been hurt!"
"But I was not… it was Emily Colton. She ran past me. Did you see her?"
"Yes; she is frightened, but appeared to be unharmed. Foolish girl," he said, squeezing her close to him with his arm around her waist. He should have expected nothing less of one who would dress down a young man half again as tall as she was when she was only twelve—her beauty and her boldness, her charm and her tendency to think for herself and not as Society would dictate. No wonder he loved her. "You were brave to go to her aid, but you could have been hurt yourself! You should have called for assistance."
Victoria nodded against him. They were walking up the steps of the terrace, and Phillip was pleased to see that the terrace was still empty. Miss Colton would be taken care of after her fright, whatever it had been—perhaps something as simple as a branch catching at her or an argument with Truscott, wherever he had gone off to—and he and Victoria could stand on the patio alone.
And start again where they had left off.
He looked down, ready to gather her back into his arms. "Victoria, what is that in your hand?"
He saw even in the half-light that her cheeks flushed light pink. She looked down at the slender piece of wood she held as if wondering how it got there. "I… it was falling from my hair as I hurried to help Miss Colton. I'll just put it in my indispensable, for only my maid knows how to repair my hair."
Phillip thought that the stick looked rather large and unwieldy to be part of such an intricate coiffure, but what did he know about how women dressed their hair? He appreciated the results, but had little interest in the mechanics.
He was just pulling her close to him, tipping her chin up with a gentle nudge of his thumb, when he realized she was looking over his shoulder into the ballroom. "Phillip… I really must go check on Miss Colton and make certain she is unhurt."
Disappointment rolled over him. "I am certain she is being cared for. Although I do not know what became of Lord Truscott."
She pulled easily from what he thought was a firm grip. "Phillip, I promise… I will return in just a moment. I feel responsible for her. Won't you come inside with me?" She smiled so prettily, and hugged his arm so close to the length of her body, brushing against the side of her bosom, that he couldn't refuse.
Back inside the Madagascar home, Victoria quickly excused herself from Phillip. Frantic with the delay he'd caused by catching her in the gardens, she hurried through the throngs of people, knowing that she would have to offer more explanation to him later.
She was relieved that there didn't seem to be a massive sense of panic or outrage from the party goers; more clusters of people were talking than dancing, but they did not seem to be upset. It appeared that possibly Miss Colton had made her way to the ladies' changing room without causing too much of a commotion about the vampire attack that had happened only yards away from the merrymaking.
Victoria prayed that was the case, and hoped that Miss Colton was in no frame of mind to speak of what had happened… or ask about the whereabouts of Lord Truscott. She wasn't sure how she was going to explain that he'd poofed into a cloud of ashes.
It was perhaps too much to hope that Emily Colton hadn't realized what was happening before Victoria arrived upon the scene; but she did indeed hope. It had happened quickly; Lord Truscott was just bending his face to her neck when Victoria burst upon them.
Emily escaped, disappearing into the brush with a shriek, before Victoria had come face-to-face with Truscott and plunged the stake into his chest.
Now she hurried down the hall and reached the ladies' retiring room. Pausing to collect her breath and pat down her hair, Victoria eased the door open and found a small cluster of women around a white-faced Emily Colton.
"Emily," Victoria said, slipping inside and closing the door behind her. "How are you?"
"Oh!" shrieked Emily, leaping to her feet and throwing herself at Victoria. "You are unhurt! I was so frightened for you!"
Victoria gently extricated her from the other woman's arms. "I am not hurt at all. And how do you feel?"
Emily ignored the question and began babbling to the others, pointing at Victoria with a shaking finger. "She came right in at the moment he attacked me! I ran away; I shouldn't have left her, but I was too frightened to think!"
The five other ladies looked from Victoria to Emily and back again, as if measuring the difference in their demeanors. Victoria was careful to keep her expression gentle even though she needed to know what Emily had seen, and whether she'd realized what happened.
Emily was still speaking rapidly, as though she had to let the words loose or she would lose them. "What happened? Did Lord Truscott—?"
"I do not know what happened to him," Victoria replied, clasping her fingers around Emily's hand. "As soon as you ran, he turned and disappeared in another direction. He did not hurt me." That, at least, was true.
It appeared that Emily accepted this explanation; and the others had no reason to question it. The word vampire had not been uttered; she need give no explanation for Truscott's disappearance. Now Victoria could excuse herself and find Phillip.
It would be easy to return to her betrothed; but it would not be so easy to accept that she had killed Lord Truscott of the soft brown eyes and clumsy feet.
"It has happened!" Lady Melisande burst into Winnie's drawing room without waiting for the butler. "Oh, glory be, it has happened! Victoria is to be a marchioness!"
"Rockley has come up to snuff?" Winnie leaped to her feet with surprising agility for one so well cushioned. "Oh, Melly, I am enraptured for you! And for Victoria, too, of course!"
"Victoria is to marry Rockley?" Petronilla exclaimed at the precise moment the duchess squealed. "Get out of my way, Winnie, so I can hug her too!"
The ladies danced around the room, the china and knickknacks clinking in their wake.
"He came just shortly ago to get my blessing—as if he needed to ask!" Melly, out of breath, huffed as she sank into a chair.
Winnie, who had snatched up two blueberry scones, did not pause in her enthusiastic prancing until she'd poured tea for the newest arrival. Then she plunked down next to her.
"We shall have to begin planning the wedding immediately. It will be the event of the Season!" Petronilla said. "But do tell, did Victoria have any details about the incident at the Madagascar ball last night? It is the talk of the town!"
Winnie slammed a hand to her chest, closing her fingers around the crucifix that rested on the shelf of her bosom. If possible, it was an even bigger cross than the one she'd been wearing last week. "Nilly was just telling me about it. I'm certain it was a vampire attack!"
Melly looked at them. "Whatever are you talking about?"
"Miss Emily Colton was attacked last night, in the gardens at the Madagascars' house. She was not hurt, but frightened, and her escort, Lord Truscott, has disappeared," Winnie explained.
"Why do you think it was a vampire attack?" Melly said, rolling her eyes. "Lord Truscott likely got too familiar with Miss Colton and she sent him on his way… and did not want to confess that she'd been walking in the garden alone with him. Miss Colton has been known to be a bit loose, you know."
"But no one knows where he is," said Winnie. "And it was in the dark. And her neck was scratched."
"Perhaps Lord Truscott is a vampire," said Petronilla. Her eyes gleamed like sapphires. "Perhaps he was overcome by lust and could not resist any longer, and tried to seduce Miss Colton in the gardens…"
"What nonsense! Nilly, Winnie, I declare, if you would rather go on about vampires instead of helping me to plan Victoria's wedding, then I will leave you two to it!"
"No, Melly, we'll stop. I don't want to talk about them anyway," Winnie said, shooting a look at Petronilla. "There's nothing about them that fascinates me on any level. They are evil bloodsucking creatures, dirty and smelly with claws and long hair—"
"They are not! Mrs. Lawson's daughter's neighbor's sister was the one who had one in her bedchamber, and she said he smelled like licorice and that he was cleanshaven and—"
"I thought you did not want to talk about them!" Melly interrupted, standing. "I am going to leave if either one of you mentions the word vampire again."
Winnie clamped her mouth shut. Petronilla raised her teacup to her lips and sipped, gazing innocently out the window.
"Now," Melisande said, settling back into her chair, "which modiste should we have make the dress?"
"Victoria always looks well with Madame LeClaire's designs," replied Petronilla.
"I was not talking about Victoria's gown! I meant my dress!" said Melly indignantly.
"Well, in that case, I suggest we take ourselves out of here and down to Bond Street for a shopping excursion!" said Winnie.
And they very happily did just that, with Winnie clutching her crucifix the whole way.
The sun was lowering when Victoria climbed out of Barth's hackney only a short distance from the home of Rudolph Caulfleld, the man who owned the Book of Antwartha. Sebastian had clearly indicated that the vampires acting on Lilith's behalf were to arrive at night, but Victoria was taking no chances that they might come and go before she got there.
