"I am well aware that your mother would have done so… but I fear the question is more complicated than that, Miss Grantworth. You told me quite directly that you are in no haste to marry, and while I find that refreshing and a bit off-putting… I should rather know for certain how difficult it would be should a gentleman wish to urge you along that path." They'd stopped walking now, and were standing near a cluster of people crowding the tables of food and drink. Three dozen people milled about, but for all of that, when Victoria looked up at Lord Rockley, she felt as if they were alone.
His arm had clamped her wrist close to his body as they walked, but now he allowed it to slide free as he turned toward her, standing with his back to the room as if protecting her, shielding her from the crowd.
Victoria felt a large, beaming smile work itself out from inside. "Lord Rockley, I would have been particularly delighted had you called on Grantworth House today."
The austerity in his face lessened. "I am pleased to hear that, Miss Grantworth." He reached for her hand and slipped it around his arm. "Shall we find that lemonade I've been promising you?"
As they stood in line to wait for lemonade, Rockley nudged her gently with his elbow as if to gain her attention. She looked up at him, suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of comfort. Here was a kind, handsome man who appeared to be interested in her as a potential wife… and whom she felt the urge to come to know better. To kiss, even. A man her mother would approve—no, thrust upon her. A man who had remembered her for more than seven years.
"You appeared to have been entranced by the music," he said with a fond smile. "I must admit, I would have been hard-pressed to sit for such a long period of time, only listening to Mozart and Bach."
"Ah." Victoria smiled back at him. "That is the explanation, then, my lord."
He handed her a white teacup filled with lemonade. "Explanation of what?" Cupping her elbow, he gently steered her away from the tables and toward a pair of chairs at the other end of the room.
"Your tardiness in arriving at the famous Straithwaite Musicale. I'm sure the three eligible sisters were devastated that you missed most of their performance."
"They might have been, but that is not my concern, Miss Grantworth. You see, I have a reasonable excuse for arriving here so late."
Victoria took a sip of the lemonade, pleasantly surprised that it was perfectly tart and chilled enough to be refreshing. She looked at him from over the top of her cup, and when their eyes met she felt her knees weaken. "Truth to tell, my lord, I am more than a bit envious that you had such an excuse; for if I had one, I would have arrived just as you did."
"As always, Miss Grantworth, I find your honesty refreshing and amusing… but don't you wish to know the reason for my tardiness?"
Victoria considered him for a moment. He had a very pleasing smile, especially when his lips turned up just like that at the corners, ever so slightly. Now that she'd been reminded of the memories they'd come flooding back, and she recalled him smiling at her that way the day after they'd first met, when he brought her forget-me-nots in thanks for her help in chasing down his mount. The first time she'd received flowers from a man.
Victoria thought she might still have the pink satin ribbon he'd tied them with. She smiled up at him, as much at the memory as from the question he'd just posed. "Of course I am interested in the reason for your tardiness, my lord, if you should like to tell me."
"The reason that I arrived nearly two hours after the musicale began was that it took me that long to discover where a certain young lady was going to be tonight."
Victoria felt the rush of heat sweep over her, surely coloring her fair skin. "Indeed?"
"Indeed. Miss Grantworth, may I call on you Thursday?"
"I wish that you would."
Apparently, the young man from years ago was not the least bit disappointed in the woman she'd become.
Chapter Six
In Which Miss Grantworth Stands Her Ground
"Did you dance with your marquess last night, Victoria?"She looked up from the stake she was whittling into a lethal point. Max sat in a large chair, drinking something the color of topaz, and studying what appeared to be an ancient map of tunnels on a table next to him. He didn't even look up as he spoke. Aunt Eustacia and Kritanu had left the parlor moments earlier to retrieve a book and tea, respectively.
"If you are speaking of Lord Rockley, I'm sure it will delight you to learn that I did not."
"Pity."
Victoria considered the stake for a brief, delicious moment, then regretfully rested it on the table. She had four new polished ash stakes, each to be painted a different color so that they could complement her various gowns. Verbena had suggested ivory, pink, pale green, and blue, and was advocating further decoration using flowers, feathers, and beads.
"I didn't dance with him because we attended a musicale, and there was no dancing. But he has asked to call on me." She didn't care if she sounded like a petulant child.
For the first time Max looked up at her. His expression was forbidding. "You are playing dangerously, Victoria."
"Hunting vampires is playing dangerously. Being courted by a rich, handsome man is not. And in either case, I am well able to take care of myself."
Max's gaze dropped pointedly to the side of her neck, where the four red weals had begun to heal. "Your ability to take care of yourself has yet to be conclusively proven; however, that is not what I meant. You are playing dangerously with the marquess and his attentions."
"Why do you begrudge me the pleasure of the company of a perfect gentleman?" Victoria asked. They had begun using each other's familiar names almost immediately after the incident with the Guardian vampires. It felt ridiculous to be formal with someone who hunted the undead in tandem with her. "Is it because you never move in the circles of Society, so you look down upon anyone who does?"
He settled back in his chair and looked at her. The golden liquid in his glass streamed in the light, shifting as he gently moved his wrist in small, circular motions, as if he were thinking how to respond. "Victoria, you completely misunderstand my motivations. I begrudge you nothing. If I had my way, you would have nothing to worry about but the next ball and whether to allow your marquess two dances in one night. But surely you realize that you cannot go on the way you have been."
"I do not understand what you mean." There was a shift in the air now, and the discomfort that always seemed to snap between them had ebbed into something lethally serious.