"Max—" Aunt Eustacia began, but Victoria overruled her.
"Saving your life… or have you so easily forgotten?" She stood too, upturned face to his furious one.
"Saving my… Victoria, if you had shared your information with me prior to the moment when it nearly cost me my life, the saving of it would not have been a factor! In fact, we would have determined the best way—"
"—for you to obtain the book, while I sat home and tended to my fripperies and furbelows, no doubt!"
"Of course not! It would have been a team effort, with a plan—"
"Easy words from the man who did not share his information with me either! What kind of team effort did you have in mind, Max?"
He opened his mouth to respond, but Eustacia had had enough. She shot out of her chair at Victoria's last words and placed herself quite straitly betwixt the two of them, a hand out in either direction. "Sit down, both of you," she ordered in a thunderous voice that Victoria had never heard before.
She sat. And so did Max. But, she noticed, he didn't look the least bit cowed.
"Let me make this clear," she said, spearing each of them with her eyes in turn. "The two of you are our only real hope here in England, and you must learn to work together, or we will find ourselves splintered by dissension. Now, I am not going to discuss further what happened last night… except to congratulate you both. And to breathe a great sigh of relief. We have the Book of Antwartha, and Lilith does not. You executed three Imperial vampires, Max, and that, I believe, is a one-night record. The most I ever did was two in one night," she added with a twitch of a rueful smile. "And numerous other Guardians, I am aware. Thanks in part to your resourceful maid."
Victoria nodded in agreement; she had expressed the very same gratitude to Verbena, which, must have, in part, caused the maid's newfound officiousness.
"What is to be done with the book now that we have it?" asked Max easily, as if the outburst and scolding had never happened.
Before Aunt Eustacia could respond, a proper knock came at the parlor door and Jimmons opened it to peek in. Victoria nodded, and he widened the opening and said, "It is too early for calls, but the gentleman would not be dissuaded from being announced, Miss Victoria. The Marquess of Rockley."
Warmth suffused her face before she could catch it, and without looking at Max or Aunt Eustacia, Victoria replied, "Please show the marquess in, Jimmons. I expect this shall not be the first time he calls outside of normal polite hours."
From the look on his face, Max dearly wanted to say something… but before he could, the door opened again and Rockley came in.
Victoria rose eagerly, but managed to catch herself before rushing to Phillip's side. Their engagement was not yet announced; it would be unseemly for her to act so until after this evening's ball. But a great part of her yearned to put her arms around him, to bury her face in his chest and lose herself in his normalcy… in the nonvampiric, stake-less, well-lit comfort of normalcy.
He, too, seemed to need to restrain himself from touching her; but when he saw the other occupants of the room, Phillip stiffened into a more formal persona and took an offered seat not so far from the one in which Max sat.
"I am sorry to call so early," he said after the appropriate introductions—or, in Max's case, reintroductions, "but I heard what happened last night and I came to be certain all was well."
Victoria stared at him. How could he know about what had transpired… how?
But Phillip was still talking, his bluish-gray eyes serious and concerned. "Is your mother here? Is she safe?"
And then she began to understand. "My mother is fine. She is sleeping well upstairs, and I do believe she has put the whole event from her mind." Literally. "What and how did you hear of this?"
"The word was that her carriage had been stolen, with her in it. That was the only news, and it was not until early this morning that I heard. I am glad she is here, and well. And you… Miss Grantworth, you must have had an awful night of it." Because they had not yet announced their betrothal, he used her formal title, but there was no mistaking the personal, intimate way he spoke it.
Max shifted in his chair. "If you heard of the carriage being stolen only this morning, I wonder why the news that Lady Melly was arrived home safely did not also reach your ears." He smiled pleasantly.
Phillip returned the smile. Pleasantly. "You've found me out, Lor—er, Mr. Pesaro. It was merely an excuse to assure myself that Miss Grantworth was suffering no ill effects from what must have been a terribly trying night."
Victoria covered Max's short bark of laughter with her response. "How kind of you, my lord." She sent him a smile that matched the intimate timbre of his voice. "I can assure you, although my evening was difficult in more ways than one can imagine, I am feeling quite the thing now that it is morning and the sun is high in the sky."
Phillip looked at her, then at Aunt Eustacia, and glanced over at Max before returning his attention to Victoria. "I am certain that after last night's frightening experience, you will need to rest and take your time preparing for the ball tonight. I am hopeful that this evening will be just as exhausting, but in a more pleasant way. We will have much help in celebrating our news."
"News?" Max asked delicately, springing to the bait. "Another ball? Celebrating what?"
"Why, our engagement, of course," Phillip replied blandly. "Victoria and I are to be married in one month's time."
Chapter Fourteen
Whereupon an Alliance Is Suggested
Victoria wore a gown of the palest of icy purple, with dark violet rosebuds and lace trimmings along the flounces of her skirt. Verbena dressed her hair in all manner of intricate coils and braids, made all the more labyrinthine by its corkscrew nature, and anchored it at the very top of her head. Two strands hung free, one on either side of her face, curling from her temples to rest over her collarbones.Sparkling behind them were clusters of amethyst and diamonds hanging from her ears. A large, square amethyst rested in the hollow at the base of her throat, tied there by a white velvet ribbon.
She carried a small indispensable of pearlescent silk, into which was tucked a faded pink satin ribbon, and draped a thin alençon lace shawl around her elbows.
She did not carry a stake. Or holy water. Or even wear a cross, except one tucked deeply into her bodice… and dangling from her navel.
Tonight she was not a Venator.