"Are you cold?" he asked, trying another tack. "I'm rather warm, but you are wearing a pelisse."
"Yes, I am a bit chilled," Victoria replied. But her cheeks were pink, and if he was not mistaken, there was the slightest sheen on her forehead.
"Are you not feeling well?" he asked.
"No, in fact, I am not feeling quite the thing."
A thought struck him, a wonderful thought. But it was too early… it had been only two weeks. But he spoke anyway. "Perhaps… is it possible you might be carrying my heir? I know it has been only a few weeks…"
Victoria looked up from her breakfast at him, her face pale and her dark green-flecked eyes wide, shocked. "N-no… I think it is too soon, Phillip."
He smiled. "Then we shall have to work harder at it."
"I am not feeling well," Victoria said, standing abruptly. "I believe I shall lie down for a bit. Are you off to your club today?"
"I have some business to attend to… but if you are not feeling well, Victoria, I will stay nearby."
"No. No, Phillip, I will be fine. I just need some rest. I did not sleep as well as you did last night."
He watched her hurry from the room, and noticed something very odd: When she brushed through the doorway, she bumped her left arm on the edge. The way she grabbed at it and gasped told him it was more than a minor pain due to clumsiness. Something else was wrong.
Dear heavens! A baby! Phillip wanted a baby!
Victoria collapsed on the bed in her private chamber, forgetting and falling on her left side and then rolling over when pain burned down her arm.
She couldn't have a baby. She couldn't keep drugging her husband every night she had to sneak out and patrol… She couldn't keep "forgetting" items and sending him back for them. She couldn't continue to make up ridiculous stories about bleeding noses to explain blood on her skirt. She couldn't keep taking out her vis bulla every time they made love.
How was she going to do this?
She could tell him the truth… but if she did that, he would simply follow her. Put himself in danger again.
Or worse… he would think she was mad.
The door opened and Victoria bolted upright, but it wasn't Phillip.
"Now, my lady, what ever is the matter?" It was Verbena. Her orange hair tufting with every movement, she sailed over to the bed and sat next to her mistress. "Is it your arm paining you again?"
"No, since you cleaned it up last night it has hardly hurt me at all, except when I bumped against the door. It's the marquess."
Verbena nodded. "Aye, yes, I see that. I see that you must take your vis bulla out at night. He don't understand, and ye can't tell him. What did ye do to him to make him sleep so well? Franks said as how he could barely stir him this mornin'."
Victoria shook her head. It was her knowledge to bear and no one else's. "It is better if I do not speak of it. But the marquess wants an heir."
"Of course he does. But you cannot be fighting vampires if you are carrying a babe! You will have to make certain this does not happen."
"I cannot deny him!"
"Why would you want to do that? There are other ways to prevent a baby from coming, my lady. Your aunt will know how Venators prevent babies." Verbena nodded her head sagely. "And I know some tricks myself, my lady. If your aunt cannot help you, I will."
Victoria nodded, feeling a bit relieved, but at the same time as though she were sinking ever more deeply into a quagmire of lies and deceit.
Perhaps Aunt Eustacia would have some words of wisdom.
To Victoria's relief, the ever-present Max was not at Aunt Eustacia's home when she called later that morning. Kritanu served them a light nuncheon, then disappeared discreetly when it became obvious that Victoria was not there to practice her kalaripayattu.
"How is your arm?" Aunt Eustacia asked.
Apparently Max had been there.
"It is fine."
"It will heal quickly; Max's salve is miraculous, and you carry the protection of the vis bulla."
Victoria ate a bite of cheese, wondering how to tell her aunt she didn't think she could go on. That she needed to change something about being a Venator.
"Aunt Eustacia, I need your advice. I don't know what to do."
"It is much more difficult than you believed it would be, isn't it, cam?"
"Phillip wants an heir, and I cannot give him salvi every night!"
Her aunt nodded, her black hair gleaming like the night. "It is a very difficult situation you are in, Victoria. As for the baby… well, that is easily preventable. I am surprised you did not ask about that sooner."
She did not reply. Her aunt was right that she should have been concerned with this before now.
"I will give you a tonic. If you drink it regularly, it will keep you from having a baby. Victoria…"
The way Eustacia said her name brought Victoria's face up to look at her.
"Lilith has not forgotten that you and Max retrieved the Book of Antwartha. I know it is safely hidden at St. Heath's Row, but Lilith will not rest until she gets the book in her possession. It may seem that in the last two months undead activity has waned. It may appear that you are not needed, that Max and I can handle any threats that come along. But. do not be fooled. You are a Venator and have been forever marked as one. Never forget you have dealt Lilith a great defeat—for she will not forget. She will not rest until she has exacted her revenge."
Evening fashions were not conducive to hiding wounds on one's arm, so Victoria found herself in quite a quandary that night. Verbena helped her to pull on the longest pair of gloves she owned, melon-colored ones that extended past the elbow, but there was a great expanse of bare skin exposed, due to the flimsy puffed sleeves that barely covered the edges of her shoulders.
"You will have to keep your wrap about your arms at all times," Verbena clucked. The dressing had been removed, and true to Aunt Eustacia's word, the cut had already begun to heal and was hardly sore at all. But the long red gash was still quite noticeable, so Victoria wrapped her shawl around her upper arm twice, letting the rest of it swag gently across the base of her spine and over her right arm. "Under no circumstances can you take that wrap from your arms."
Phillip had sent word that he would be at his club for the evening, and would not be attending the dinner dance at which Victoria was expected to make an appearance. She considered crying off, but felt that it would be better to attend for a short while in order to appease her mother, and return home before midnight.