Household (23 page)

“
Gone.
”

She nodded sympathetically, knowing that the Old Lord mourned his son and had wistfully hoped he might remain earthbound, too. But Tony suffered enough in life, Lucy thought suddenly, remembering the look of happiness on his face when the wraith which had been Felicity Veringer entered his room. She had looked so young, no more than a girl. She had been young when she died bearing Felix. It was sad to die without ever knowing your child, sad to die leaving behind you another loved one and sad, too, for the bereaved husband. Tony had never wanted to marry again or even contemplated such a step, she knew. Felicity had been the love of his life—but Felix, the son he had also loved deeply, had been the bane of his existence.

“You made up for everything, Lucy,” he had often said. And he had made up to her for the lack of father and mother, too. The only real sorrow she had ever known was his passing. She almost, wished... no, she did not want him to return! He was freed from the curse at last and gone with Felicity, who had not escaped it either. And what of herself? Save for Tony’s passing, she had been very happy, at least since the departure of her grandmother. But what of the future?

She stared at the receding shore still glowing brightly in the summer sunshine, the days lasting long at this time of year. The port was not a particularly lovely sight, but if she had been looking at the Hold... She bit her lip. To think of that, as she had last seen it, a twisted mass of burnt wood and fallen stones with not a single tower remaining, was appalling. She brushed a hand across her eyes.

“Homesick already, miss?”

Lucy, looked up, saw that Mark was no longer beside her. In his place was a tall fair young man with dark blue eyes and a sweep of dark wavy hair. He had a long face, clean shaven, which she liked. His cheekbones were high and a jutting nose had a bump in the middle, as if it might have been broken. She also liked his mouth which was neither thin nor full but suggested strength as did his square, cleft chin. If his features were not classic, they were still handsome. Strangely enough, Lucy felt as if she had known him for a long time, as if she was meeting an old friend.

She smiled up at him, saying, “I’m not really homesick, sir. I...” She paused in consternation. She had been about to tell him that she really never had a home, which was ridiculous since she had been born in the Hold and had lived there all her life—but by the bounty of others, she realized. Though her grandfather might have disputed that strongly as well as her great-grandfather, had he been there, which fortunately he was not, she had been an unexpected visitor. She had been dropped from the loins of betrayed Mary Crowell as Matthais Veringer had been only too eager to point out.

The man at her side said, “But you are British, are you not?”

“Indeed, yes,” she assented, and hearing a certain something in his tone, she added, “But you’re not.”

“No, ma’am, I’m American, born and bred. Boston’s my home port. Are you bound for Boston?”

“Most assuredly, sir.”

“I like the way you said that, as if you had more than a mere visit in mind.”

“Yes, it will be more than a visit, sir.”

“Lucy!” Mark had stepped to her side again. He put a possessive hand on her arm, his golden gaze cool as he looked quizzically at the stranger, whom she realized all at once
was
a stranger. She had not felt that way when they were talking. She had actually regarded him as a friend. Meeting Mark’s disapproving stare, she said, “This gentleman’s from Boston, Cousin Mark.”

Mark looked startled, as well he might since she had never before addressed him in so formal a manner. “Oh? And whom might I have the pleasure of addressing?” he demanded, his tone as chill as his glance.

“Swithin Blake,” the American replied in tones quite as cold as those of Mark. “And you, sir?”

“Marcus Driscoll.”

“And you?” Mr. Blake’s blue eyes rested appreciatively upon Lucy’s face.

“I am Lucy Veringer,” she said quickly.

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Veringer.” Mr. Blake smiled and bowed. “And yours, too, Mr. Driscoll,” he said in less enthusiastic tones.

“Your servant, sir.” Mark inclined his head, adding peremptorily, “Lucy, you are needed below.”

“Am I?” Distress filled her. Had something gone amiss wit the coffins? Had they opened when they were put into the hold? A glance at Mark’s face told her nothing. “Oh, I must go,” she said nervously.

“I do hope we will meet again, Miss Veringer.” Swithin Blake’s eyes were eager.

“I hope so, too.” She spoke without thinking and felt Mark’s hand tighten on her arm. “I meant...” She blushed.

“I am in hopes that you meant exactly what you said, Miss Veringer,” Mr. Blake replied and bowed.

❖

In the confines of her cabin, Lucy listened to a stern lecture on the inadvisability of conversing with strangers, particularly of the masculine persuasion. She had never seen Mark’s golden eyes so angry. There was almost a snarl in his voice as he described and denounced her lack of decorum in addressing someone to whom she had never been properly introduced.

She listened abashedly, her eyes downcast, well-aware that she deserved her scolding, yet resenting it, too. However, by the time he had stalked out of the cabin, she had come to her senses. She never should have spoken so readily to Mr. Swithin Blake. She had quite forgotten her situation and her responsibilities. It behooved her to remember that she was not like other young women. She was a member of a household that contained among its immediate members, a werewolf, two vampires, a ghost, a banshee and a phantom cat. Much as she adored them all, she was quite sure that a stranger, even a handsome young man with the most beautiful dark blue eyes, who had looked at her in a way that had loosed flocks of butterflies in her chest and other areas, would not welcome so unusual a set of in-laws. She blushed rosily, wondering why she should think of marriage in connection with someone she had just met and whom unfortunately she must make every effort to avoid during the days it took the Eastern Queen to steam across the Atlantic.

Hard on that decision, she heard a most melancholy wail and accompanying it an affronted screech. Obviously, Molly and Grimalkin were in agreement with her, she thought dolefully, but on listening more closely, she was puzzled. Molly sounded very strange, as did Grimalkin. Rather than issuing warnings, they both seemed to be complaining. In another moment, she was sure she knew why. Not only had they never been so far from the “auld sod” but they were on shipboard and the motion of the boat was not agreeing with them.

❖

“Oh, dear, it is so boring,” Juliet muttered to Colin as they stood at the railing looking up at a midnight sky etched with stars seen through a gossamer veiling of mist.

“Boring,” he repeated automatically. In his mind, he was garnering the imagery of the night for the canvas he was contemplating.

“Do you not find it so?” she asked. “Visiting them in their cabins while they sleep and never having so much as a proper conversation?”

He fixed a stern eye on his sister. “You are developing into an incorrigible flirt,” he chided. “I thought we’d agreed...”

“I agree with our agreement,” she assured him, “but I cannot help it if I prefer the preliminaries.” She tossed her head. “And most of them snore. They also have bad breath. I never notice that when they’re awake.”

“
I
never look a gift horse in the mouth,” Colin said pointedly. He smiled and his fangs gleamed white in the uncertain moonlight.

“Oh, dear, are you going?” Juliet inquired disappointedly.

“I fear I must, my darling.”

“I shouldn’t have talked about it, then you wouldn’t have become thirsty.” She spoke to the empty air. Her brother had gone.

Juliet pouted and stared down at the waves. They were touched with phosphoresence and very beautiful, but though she might have admired the sight at another time, talking about
it
had also made her thirsty. She touched her jutting fangs with the tip of her tongue and wondered if the Captain had retired yet. He was a big man, and the veins in his neck were large and inviting. She would not take much from him though. It would not do to have the man at the helm incapacitated.

“Might I ask who you are?” inquired a stern voice to her left.

Juliet turned quickly and saw a tall young officer frowning at her. Mindful of her teeth, she gave him a small closed smile. “Good evening, sir,” she said lightly.

His eyes widened as she knew they would once he glimpsed her moonlight-tinted face. Though she had not seen her own features since her transition, Colin had often sketched them for her, and she was well-aware of their effect upon men. He, she noted, was extremely good-looking. His hair was a dark auburn and his eyes an entrancing green. Even his uniform was most becoming. He had, she recalled, asked her a question. “It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?” she inquired softly.

“That is no answer!” His stern, searching glance did not waver.

“My name is Juliet,” she murmured.

“Juliet what?” he snapped.

She gazed at him delightedly. He was going to prove difficult. In spite of the fact that she and Colin had agreed, in fact sworn, not to arouse suspicions by any overt advances, it was quite impossible for her to resist a challenge. And he, the darling boy, was making such a determined effort to resist her.

“Why do you want to know my name?” she asked, her wide eyes on his face.

“I’ve not seen you on board,” he responded accusingly.

“Have you seen everyone on board?”

“Everyone in First Class. Where have you been?”

“Ill in my cabin. This is my first night out.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Do you think I’m a stowaway? You’re wrong. My passage is bought and paid for.”

“Is it?”

Juliet’s excitement increased. He still sounded doubtful. He was going to provide rare sport, and he was lovely—so tall, so handsome and, best of all, awake! “Should you like to come with me to my cabin and see my tickets?” she asked softly.

He blushed and replied gruffly. “There’s no need to do that. I expect I was mistaken.”

“I’d be glad to show them to you,” Juliet persisted. Lucy had purchased a sitting room, one reserved for the convenience of herself and her brother. It adjoined Lucy’s cabin, but she always went to bed early. Juliet did not think Colin would be using it. Once he arrived at a decision, he stuck to it. She usually did, too, but occasionally she gave herself a little leeway. Her eyes shone as she saw that the officer was beginning to breathe deeply. “Come.” She dared to put her little hand on his arm. “I do want to set your mind at ease.”

“Well,” he capitulated. “I think it would be best.”

❖

He was a rather clumsy lover, Juliet decided as she bit deep into his neck. She sipped slowly and thoughtfully, taking just enough and no more. It was so much nicer to be loved, especially by a young man, far better to be excited and exhilarated than merely sustained. He was such a nice boy, too. As for his lovemaking, she was sure that with a little instruction on her part, that would improve. Only she had better keep this encounter to herself. Colin would be extremely annoyed. She did not think she had aroused her officer’s suspicions. She was sure of it when at length he awakened. He was extremely embarrassed and apologetic to the point of tears for having fallen asleep in her arms. His fingers shook so much as he put on his garments that she had to fasten all his buttons. However, at the last he said, as she had known he would, “When can I see you again?”

“Tomorrow?” she murmured.

“Unfortunately,” he said regretfully, “I have night detail.”

“Do you consider that... unfortunate?” she drawled.

“Juliet!” he exclaimed ecstatically as he embraced her.

“William,” she responded with a touch of that same ecstasy, thinking that he would last at least the eight remaining days of the voyage—that is, if she husbanded those resources, and she would certainly make every effort to do so.

❖

“But I want to take William with us!” Juliet said sulkily.

Colin glared at her. “That is out of the question!”

If it had been possible for Juliet to weep, she would have made play with her long tear-tipped lashes but that effort was denied her. “He will be one of us soon,” she stated.

“Not if the ship’s doctor gives him a transfusion, which he will do,” Mark said coldly. “I have alerted him to his condition.”

“Mark!” Juliet glared at him. “What gave you the right to interfere?”

“Juliet,” Colin said, “our life’s complicated enough, and furthermore if your paramour were to die aboard this ship, they would drop him into the sea. I hesitate to contemplate the exigencies attendant upon an undead life at forty fathoms.”

“Oh, dear, how ghastly!” Juliet brushed a hand across her dry eyes.

“Cheer up,” her brother said briskly. “You’ll find someone else. You always do.”

“You have no heart,” Juliet retorted. Then, looking at him, she added quickly, “Oh, I didn’t mean it, you know I didn’t.” She stretched out both hands to him.

He took them, holding them gently. “I know you didn’t, my dear. And I know how difficult it can be... all this.”

“So difficult.” She nodded, moving closer to him. “And I expect you’re right. William would be a complication. I suppose I shouldn’t have encouraged him, but it’s so tedious the other way.”

“Extremely tedious,” Colin agreed dryly. “But come, my sweet, it grows early and I suggest we go along to rest.”

“Yes, I am tired.” She yawned. “Good night, Lucy.”

“Good night, darling. Good night, Colin, love,” Lucy said warmly. “It will be better in Boston, you’ll see.”

After they had gone, Lucy gave Mark a grateful look. “How did you find out?” she asked.

“One night when I couldn’t sleep, I saw them.”

“I’m ever so pleased you told the doctor,” she said. “But how did you explain his condition?”

“I said he appeared to be anemic.”

“Oh, that was clever!” she said approvingly. “If Juliet had persisted, it would have been a most unfortunate entanglement, not only for her but for all of us.”