It seemed once Verbena was given leave to talk, she took it. Greedily.
"Well, Verbena, I must say it is quite fortunate that you are so… er… well accustomed to the idea, as it will make things much easier for me. Because, of course, Lady Melly mustn't know anything about this at all."
The maid bobbed. "Yes, my lady. Your mother would up and faint dead away, then ship you off to the country for good. And then where would we be? There ain't no vampires in the country that I know. An' I've already been thinking about other ways to dress your hair so we can put a stake in there, if need be, so's you can pull it out real easy if you need it.
"An' there's prob'ly a way to put in two, 'cause I'm sure it could happen when ye might lose the one, and then what would ye do? Fortunate ye are to have such thick, heavy hair, so we have lots to work with. And until that bite is healed… well, my lady, that's going to be a challenge with these low styles that show off your neck and bosom, but I have some ideas, and we'll manage it. You just let me worry about that."
"Indeed." Victoria turned back to her mirror. For, after all, what else was there to say?
"I can appreciate her devotion to her aunt, but if Victoria continues to disappear at inopportune moments, she will lose all chance of landing the marquess—or any other prudent marriage contract!" Lady Melisande was pacing the parlor of Grantworth House.
"Now, now, Melly, don't fuss," Petronilla urged. "Surely the fact that your foyer and sitting rooms are filled with flowers indicate that Victoria has intrigued more than one potential beau!"
"Indeed, but none of them are from the Marquess of Rockley! He did not call today, and I am fearful that Victoria's leaving the ball early last night has cooled his interest."
Winifred reached for a ginger cookie, a large crucifix thunking against her chest as she sat back. "You said your aunt is ill?"
"I do not know—but she sent her friend Maximilian Pesaro to fetch Victoria to her side last night, claiming that she was. I do not wish to interfere, for my aunt has a vast fortune she will leave to us… and… well, she can be a bit frightening… but it could not have been a more inopportune moment for her to call Victoria away!"
"Maximilian Pesaro? I do not believe I know him," Winnie commented, looking with interest at the lemon icing on a plate of chocolate biscuits. She had yet to make her selection, for fear of choosing one with a lesser amount of icing. "Who is he?"
"He was the frightfully tall man who came striding through the room just after dinner like he was on a mission somewhere important. Dark hair, swarthy skin, and an expression that was like to send my heart pounding from my chest!" Petronilla replied, hand clasped to said chest as though to keep the organ in place. "He looks terrifyingly dangerous. Like a pirate!"
"At least you did not say he looked like a vampire." Melly took a seat on her favorite chaise. "He is a particular friend of my aunt, and has recently arrived from Italy, perhaps six months ago."
"He could be a vampire," considered Petronilla, her eyes gleaming. "I wonder if he is! Your aunt seems to know an awful lot about them."
"I have taken to carrying garlic in my indispensable, on the recommendation of my butler's sister's mother-in-law," the duchess confessed. "I do not wish to be a victim of those creatures!"
"A duchess carrying garlic. How ridiculous!" Melly laughed. "Winnie, there are no such things as vampires. In fact, the latest I have heard from my cousin Lord Jellington is that the Runners believe those people left for dead by the wharves were attacked by some kind of mad dog, and that the claws made the marks that people think look like Xs. They shot and killed one just two days ago, and there have been no more attacks since."
"And what about the people who have disappeared? Beresford-Gellingham and Teldford?"
Melly put her teacup down rather a bit too abruptly. "And what do you believe happened to them, Winnie? They turned into vampires themselves? That's ludicrous. Beresford-Gellingham likely took himself off to the Continent to get away from his creditors, and Teldford is foolish enough to have tripped and fallen in the Thames, never to be seen again. Just because two or three people have not given their whereabouts does not mean there are vampires about!"
"My maid told me she heard of a woman who was visited by a vampire in her bedchamber," Petronilla breathed. Her hand fluttered at her throat. "She said that it wasn't frightening at all… that he was very gentle and… passionate."
"Gentle until he sucked all of her blood out with his fangs!" exclaimed Winnie in shock. "Nilly, I assure you, it would be no sweet picnic to have a creature suck the blood from your chest!"
"I would agree if I believed they even existed. Now, enough of that ridiculous topic. Tell me what I shall do to ensure that Rockley regains his interest in Victoria," Melly said, forgetting her habit of nibbling. She stuffed a whole ginger cookie in her mouth.
"Rockley was so attentive last evening, and the way he spoke about fetching your lemonade and having a thirst all night… well, I was certain he intended to ask you for a second dance, Victoria. I can't imagine what could have happened," Lady Melly said as they settled in the carriage that evening.
"I can't either, Mama," Victoria lied.
"Unless that girl Gwendolyn Starcasset has caught his eye again. He did dance with her twice at Lady Fiorina's ball three weeks ago." Lady Melly's eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. "You must invest greater effort into catching his attention, Victoria. Unless something has put him off, which I can't imagine what, you should have no problem regaining his attention. He finds you very attractive; he had his eyes on you whilst you were dancing with that dreadful Lord Truscott I warned you about."
"Lord Truscott wasn't so dreadful."
"Hmph. He hasn't the money nor the looks of Rockley. I do hope you will pay some attention to the marquess the next time we see him at an event. Perhaps you should not have left the ball early last night."
Victoria nodded and agreed. Once her mother was put to something, she was put to it. And apparently Lady Melly was determined to make a match betwixt her daughter and the marquess.
In all honesty, Victoria had to admit that it was a pleasant thought. She'd danced with Rockley several times, and spoken with him at other social engagements, and she found nothing about him lacking. He was agreeable enough. Handsome enough. Witty and kind and charming, just as he had been that summer long ago when she knew him only as a young man—certainly not a marquess!—who seemed carefree and bold. They'd met every day for a fortnight, and he'd never let on that he was more than a boy from the village. He thought she was interesting and original and he had sought her out, based on his memory of her. That meant something, did it not?