The Rest Falls Away

to be an attack there. I wanted to be certain you were safe.'

'You wanted to be certain I was safe?' He spun from the window, and the yellow sunshine cast a beautiful golden shadow over his skin and hair. Unfortunately she was in no position to appreciate it. 'What kind of nonsense are you speaking, Victoria? What could you do besides put yourself in danger?' He gestured to her arm. 'It appears you already have!'

She was angry at the derision in his voice, and exhausted, and over the top with stress. She should have ended the conversation there, told him nothing else. Let him be angry.

But she didn't.

'I work with Max. It is part of our family legacy.'

'You work with Max? Marchionesses don't work.'

'I do.' She swallowed. 'I hunt vampires.'

He stared at her. And stared.

And stared.

And then he said in a terrible voice, 'You are mad.'

'I am not mad, Phillip. It's true.'

'You are mad.'

Her temper snapped. She vaulted off the bed and marched over to him, stopping so close that the hem of her night rail brushed against his bare legs. 'Give me your hands.'

When he reluctantly offered them, she grabbed his wrists and said, 'Try to break my grip.'

He tried, and he couldn't. She forced his arms down to his sides, watching the expression on his face turn from anger to shock to incomprehension.

She released him. 'I am a vampire hunter. It is my family legacy. I have no choice; it is what I must do.'

Phillip stepped away from her, bumping into the window behind him. 'I don't believe in vampires.'

'That is quite foolish of you, as one nearly bit you last night… just before you saw me. Max dispatched him whilst you were talking to me.'

He shook his head. 'Whether they exist or not, you cannot hunt vampires, Victoria. You are a marchioness. You are a pillar of Society. I forbid it. As your husband, I forbid it.'

'Phillip, it is not something you can forbid. It is in my… my blood. It is my destiny.'

'You may believe that. You may think you have no choice, but if you do not leave the house to hunt vampires, you are making the choice not to follow your destiny.'

'And I should just ignore it when I learn that there are to be vampire attacks… at places such as Bridge and Stokes? Let people die? You escaped, Phillip, because Max told you a lie to get you to leave. But you did not see the carnage that was left behind… of some of your friends. It was beyond horrible.'

'I forbid it, Victoria.'

'I'll not stand by and let people die that way.'

He pushed away from the window and stalked past her into his dressing room, bellowing for his valet. 'Franks!' Phillip paused at the door that adjoined the two rooms, holding the edge and looking down at the floor. 'You should have confessed this before we were married, Victoria. It is unforgivable that you did not.'

And he shut the door. Softly. But ever so loudly.

'They have been home from their wedding trip only two days, Nilly,' said Melly complaisantly, 'but I am sure I can prevail upon the ton's newest fashionable couple to attend your niece's ball.'

'That would be divine!' gushed Petronilla, eyeing the platter of orange-cinnamon finger cakes. They smelled delicious, but it was that odd carroty hue that put her off. Perhaps she would have a talk with Freda about toning down the color. At least the lime biscuits weren't the nasty green shade they had been the last time Freda had made them. Now they looked rather appetizing, even with the thin veneer of white icing.

'Where is Winnie? I thought she wanted to hear all of the details of the wedding trip,' Melly complained. She had none of her friend's hesitation; she snatched up two of the cakes and began to nibble on a third.

'I am here!' As if on cue, the parlor door opened and in sailed the Duchess of Farnham. She jingled and clunked.

'What on earth is that?' asked Melly, staring in askance at the large crucifix that hung from her waist like a chatelaine's ring of keys would have done in medieval times. Only the crucifix was much larger than any ring of keys. 'And that?'

'It's her stake, of course,' Petronilla explained as if Melly had lost her mind… when, in fact, it appeared to Lady Grantworth that it was her two dearest friends who had done so. 'Winnie, I do hope you haven't any thought of using such a thing! That would be so cruel!'

Winifred plopped down in her favorite seat in Petronilla's parlor, somehow managing to slide four finger cakes and three lime biscuits onto a plate and pour herself a cup of tea in the process. 'I am not foolish enough to be prancing about without protection, and you two ladies would be wise to do the same!'

'No, no, no, no!… Winnie, do not tell me you are still afraid that a vampire is going to jump out of the shadows at you some night!' Melly stuffed the rest of the orange finger cake into her mouth and swallowed a gulp of tea, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

'I should say so!' Winifred poured a generous amount of cream into her tea, disdaining the sugar, and stirred with gentle, elegant strokes to disperse it. 'You did hear about the incident at that gentleman's club last night, Bridge and Stokes, did you not? When I heard about that, I went right out to one of the footmen and demanded that he take one of the duke's old walking sticks and make it into a stake for me. I'm going nowhere without it!'

'Incident at Bridge and Stokes?' echoed Petronilla, her pale blue eyes wide with interest. 'Whatever are you talking about? Were there vampires there? Did anyone get bitten?' There was a breathy note to her voice at this last.

'Those were not vampires, Winnie!' Melly shook her head and smoothed her skirts. 'I know the incident you are talking about—and it was not vampires. How many times must I tell you that they simply don't exist? They are the product of Polidori's imagination, fueled by legend and ghost tales.'

'What happened at Bridge and Stokes?' asked Petronilla again.

'How can you not have heard about it? It has been roaring through the servant gossip mill faster than a fire in a dry field!' Melly replied archly.

'I have been indisposed all morning,' Petronilla replied delicately.

Melly snorted, but Winnie deigned, at last, to explain. 'Five men were found dead after some passersby reported to the Runners that there had been a loud altercation there early this morning. No gunshots were reported, and from what I have heard, the bodies were found quite destroyed, torn up, even. Very messy.' She reached for another biscuit, thought better of it, and set it back on her plate. Apparently there were some things that affected her appetite.

'Lord Jellington, my cousin, called on me first thing this morning,' Melly interceded. 'Because the marquess belongs to the club in question, and had, in fact, been there last night. But apparently he left before the incident occurred, and Jellington wished to assure me that he was not involved.'

'Knowing Jellington, I am quite sure that was not all he wished to accomplish by calling on his attractive third cousin,' Petronilla commented slyly.

'Oh, do go on! Jellington has never looked twice… well, perhaps twice, but definitely not thrice… at me in that fashion,' Melly replied, burying her face in a cup of tea.

'It was vampires that did it.' Winnie steered the conversation back on track. 'That's why there were no gunshots! They don't need guns to get what they want.'

Melly was shaking her head. 'No, Jellington says it was likely one or two people with knives who attacked the members of the club. Perhaps in some sort of vigilante manner; for all of the ones found dead—except one, who may have been an accidental casualty—were quite in debt and owed much money to some of those nasty moneylenders they speak of from St. Giles. The Runners believe it was an attempt to collect funds due them, or to make an example of those men for not paying back their debts.' She sniffed and set down her teacup.

It was Winnie's turn to snort. 'That is what the Runners are saying. But I don't believe them. They don't want there to be a mass panic from everyone in London believing that there are vampires running about.'