Rises the Night

Despite her relatively early departure from the party downstairs, Victoria was certain she wouldn't find sleep easily. But the next thing she knew she was awakened by a sudden dip on the bed next to her.

She came fully awake and felt the movements of the large body on the mattress as hands groped toward her own person.

'Lady Rockley. Vi'toria.'

Along with the low murmuring of her name came a waft of spirits. It was so strong it had Victoria turning away and holding her breath. A hand brushed over her face, and another along her arm… alarmingly close to her bosom.

'Mr. Starcasset? What are you doing here?' Slipping away from his grasp, she slid from the bed and lit a candle. The illumination was enough to show him blundering about in the blankets, then the lifting of his glassy- eyed face.

'V'toria… if I may c-call you that,' he said, the syllables meshing into one another in a strange cadence. 'I knew it… I knew the signs…'

'Mr. Starcasset, I can't imagine what you are talking about, but you are completely foxed.' Victoria nearly had to laugh at the bemused, earnest expression on his face. Perhaps she should be affronted by the man's impropriety, but at the moment he appeared so completely harmless and befuddled that she could almost find the humor in it. The very proper George Starcasset would be mortified if he realized his inebriated self had barged into a lady's bedchamber in the middle of the night.

Certainly it was a common occurrence at house parties such as this one. Victoria had no illusions about the purpose of large parties set on an estate in the country—they were often the perfect excuse and opportunity for illicit trysts. But for some reason she did not picture George Starcasset as one who sneaked about, looking for a chance to tryst.

It simply appeared he had imbibed more than enough brandy after she had gone upstairs. Perhaps the overindulgence was to build up his courage… perhaps it was merely that he'd played too many games of whist.

Or perhaps he got lost on the way to his room. Victoria stifled a soft laugh.

There was nothing left for it. She had to get him out of her room and, hopefully, back to his… or at least to a different area of the house.

A quick glance down reminded her that traipsing around a strange household dressed in a frothy nightgown of little more than French lace and silk was not a prudent thing. With a glance at her late-night visitor, who appeared to have found comfort in her pillows, she pulled a pelisse from the wardrobe where Verbena had hung it, slipped her arms in, and buttoned the three buttons tightly over the bodice. She had to tug on the sleeves of her nightgown to adjust them beneath the narrow sleeves of the pelisse so they didn't bunch up. The cut of the long coat would do little to hide the long silk skirts of her nightgown, but at least her bosom would be covered. Snatching a pair of slippers, she tucked her feet into them and turned back to the bed.

'Come along, dear Mr. Starcasset. I suppose after this I. can call you George… at least for tonight.' She giggled and tugged him off the bed. Thanks to her exceptional strength, it was no difficult task to pull him to his feet and sling an arm about his waist. He was beginning to lose track of his eyes; they would focus on her, then suddenly roll up into his head… then come back down and look at her again.

It wouldn't be long before he was out, and so she must move quickly to get him out of there. She could only imagine the horror on his face if he awoke the next morning in her room.

Smiling at the thought, Victoria walked him to the door and out into the hallway. She held the candle in one hand and half lifted, half dragged him with her other arm around his waist.

He was a bit taller than she, and his head began to loll alarmingly. Victoria realized she had no idea where his room was, or even which wing of the house it would be in. So she opted for the safest, easiest route: the library immediately belowstairs.

Thump, thump, thump… She directed him down the sixteen steps and by the time they got to the bottom she was dragging him, as he'd lost the battle with his eyes and neck. His head hung, bobbing easily, and when she peered down to look, his eyes were nearly closed, the lids fluttering as though he were dreaming behind them. His pale blond hair fell in a thick swoop over one temple, and his mouth made the slightest gap. Probably not the way he would want her to see him, Victoria thought, and smiled again, thankful that he would likely not remember much of what occurred. Thus if she said nothing, his pride would be salvaged.

Into the library she went, thankful that it was one of the rooms Gwendolyn had pointed out to her that afternoon. She deposited George in a large wing-back chair near a silent fireplace and tugged the collar of her pelisse back into place.

Something glinted on the floor; she nearly missed it, but the cast of her candle had unexpectedly glanced over it. One of George's buttons, perhaps? Victoria bent and, with a sudden intake of breath, snatched it up from the hooked wool rug.

No, not a button.

The disk was round and bronze and bore the image of a sinuous hound on it. It was identical to the one she'd found at the Silver Chalice.

Chapter 5 Of Balconies and Reprimands

Victoria smoothed her thumb over the bronze amulet. It could be no coincidence that she'd found one at Sebastian's place and then here again… where Sebastian just happened to be.

Lips firming in irksome thought, she cast one last assuring look at George, who snored comfortably in his wing-back chair, then hurried out of the library and up the stairs.

Aunt Eustacia had not received a response from Wayren regarding the amulet before Victoria left London, but she'd been assured of an update as soon as she did. Victoria'd assumed the amulet had belonged to the demon, but that appeared not to be the case, since there were no demons or vampires here at Claythorne.

Focused on her thoughts, Victoria didn't see him until it was too late. He stepped out of an alcove just a short distance from her bedchamber, causing her to falter in her hurried pace.

Sloppy. She should have expected it; she should have known.

'Sebastian,' she said, looking up into his handsome face. Light from her candle flowed over his cheeks, settling a golden cast over his curling hair. His lips were positioned in that sensual, amused smile that alternately annoyed and charmed her.

'Why, Lady Rockley,' he said smoothly. 'What a surprise to find you wandering the halls in the middle of the night.'

She was in no mood to be charmed. 'I suppose I have you to thank for my rude awakening.'

The amusement spread to his eyes as he bowed his head slightly. 'Mr. Starcasset is madly in love with your fetching person, and, I have found, is quite biddable when plied with enough brandy.'

Victoria realized they were standing in the hall, where, unlikely as it might be in the wee hours of the night, they could easily be seen. With an angry look, she stalked past him and reached her door, Sebastian at her heels.

Once inside her room, she placed the candle on her dressing table and turned to face him, arms crossed over her middle, and suddenly she was quite glad she'd had the wherewithal to don the pelisse. 'You sent that poor man in here!'

'Let us go out on the balcony,' he suggested. 'Despite the fact that you are a widow, and being found with a man in your bedchamber wouldn't be considered overly scandalous, it is a lovely night. Besides,' he added as he strode past her toward the French doors that opened to a small terrace, 'I don't wish to be in the same room as you and a bed… unless you mean to put it to use.' He paused dramatically. 'Do you?'

Ignoring the spike of interest that sent a warm rush over her bosom, Victoria brushed past him, heading out onto the terrace.

'Apparently not.' Closing the doors behind them, Sebastian walked out to stand across the way from her. 'And as for Starcasset… well, in reviewing the situation, I determined it was much more prudent to get you