And then… the pain. The sharp, quick pain as he moved his hips between hers, and then, as he had promised, only pleasure.
Only easy, rising, fulfilling pleasure.
Chapter Twenty-one
Wherein the Marchioness Proves Herself an Excellent Storyteller
Victoria felt better when she reinserted her vis bulla the next day. It took a little bit of jimmying and tugging to get the silver hoop back in place, but she managed it with a bit of help from Verbena, and once that was done she finished dressing.She was pleasantly sore from the activities of the night before, and, so far, quite delighted with her new marital status. Over breakfast she and Phillip ate kippers and eggs, sausages and biscuits, preserves and clotted cream. And then they boarded his traveling coach, which had already been loaded with their trunks, and embarked on a two-week honeymoon.
When they returned, she was rosy-cheeked and no longer sore.
On the morning after their return, Phillip left St. Heath's Row early to take care of some business in town with his solicitor and banker. Victoria worked diligently if reluctantly on her correspondence, but was saved from an entire afternoon of tedium by a missive from Aunt Eustacia inviting her for tea.
"You look lovely, my dear marchioness," said her elderly aunt when Kritanu showed Victoria into the sitting room. "Rested and quite happy."
Victoria bent to kiss her aunt's uncommonly soft, unlined face. "Indeed I am, Aunt. But I am also quite desirous of returning to the task at hand."
"We are delighted to hear that," drawled Max, who was standing across the room.
"Max. I never did thank you for agreeing to attend the wedding," Victoria replied. She had expected him to be there, and as part of her new position, she'd decided she was no longer going to allow him to nettle her. Her happiness made it much easier for her to pity his dark moods and what could only be great loneliness.
He bowed. "I was happy to be of assistance."
Perhaps he too had decided to be less combative.
"And how was the wedding trip?" Max continued, standing until Victoria took her seat. "I trust the marquess is well and has given no indication he plans to revisit the Silver Chalice."
Perhaps not.
"We haven't spoken of that evening since it occurred," Victoria told him, keeping her voice mild.
"Victoria, I realize it is your first day back from your honeymoon, but I felt it necessary to contact you," interjected Aunt Eustacia. "We've learned that a group of vampires has planned a raid of sorts on Vauxhall Gardens early in the morning. Despite Max's expertise, we felt there should be two Venators in order to keep them from succeeding."
Victoria felt the thrill of the fight tic in her heartbeat, but then she recalled. "I am bound to attend the theater with Phillip tonight. But… what time would I need to be ready?"
"Midnight, of course," Max said from the corner. "I am certain that you could invent some reason for returning to your home earlier rather than later in the evening. Having just returned from your honeymoon."
Victoria did not allow the flush to warm her cheeks; she stopped it cold. "Indeed, you are right. It will be no hardship to entice my husband to return home early. Of course, I might be otherwise occupied for a time…"
Max nodded, his eyes dark and cool. "Of course. Do you think you could perhaps adjust your schedule so that I could pick you up at midnight? So that too many people aren't killed before we arrive?"
"You don't have to pick me up," Victoria reminded him, wondering where her resolve had gone. "I can meet you there."
"I will pick you up. You would never locate me in Vauxhall."
"I will have to find a way to leave the house without Phillip knowing."
"I should expect him to sleep quite well after such an evening," Max said mildly. "Or perhaps you could assist him… with this." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small vial. "If you are concerned that he might awaken and find his wife missing."
Victoria caught it when he tossed it lightly through the air. "What is it?" But she already knew. It was a drug. Max was suggesting that she drug her husband.
"It is called salvi. Protection. Safety. It comes in quite handy."
"As long as you aren't caught administering it and forced to drink it yourself." Victoria looked at the small vial, then glanced at Eustacia, who'd been unusually silent during their exchange. It was almost as if she'd realized her intervention would be useless.
Could she actually drug Phillip?
Was it necessary?
If she didn't would he awaken to find her gone? If she wasn't beside him, where she'd become quite used to sleeping in the last two weeks, would he seek her out in her own bedchamber?
The liquid was nearly clear; just the faintest blue tinged the thin, watery fluid. She would have to. To protect him, she not only had to lie to him… but drug him as well.
For she could not chance his awakening and putting himself in danger again.
Never again.
"I am feeling quite exhausted," Victoria murmured into Phillip's ear as they sat in the box he'd let at the theater. "I would much rather be in bed… wouldn't you?" She dipped the tip of her tongue into the innermost part of his ear—quickly, like a tease—then moved away and returned her attention to the stage. Prim and proper she was then, with her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Phillip shifted next to her in a manner that told her he, too, was thinking of things other than the play… which she was rather enjoying. "We can slip out during the next intermission—ah! What perfect timing," he amended, as the actors exited the stage.
Victoria clung to his arm as they pushed through the bustle of people leaving their boxes to mingle and be seen.
Phillip handed her into the carriage and climbed in after her. Instead of sitting on the seat across, he settled next to her and drew her near, kissing her with promise.
"My dear, your neck is so cold! Are you quite comfortable?" he asked, pulling away.
"I am not chilled, but oh, Phillip! I left my indispensable in our box; I'm certain of it! And it has Aunt Eustacia's brooch in it… Could you hurry back in and retrieve it for me?"
"Of course, my darling. You wait here—I won't be above a minute!"
She hoped that wasn't true, and waited until she saw him hurry back into the theater before she slipped the stake from a hidden pocket in her underskirt and climbed quietly out of the carriage—hoping the groom wouldn't hear her.