Microsoft Word - The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance.doc (42 page)

Trina. Francesca is so old-fashioned.”

Nikolai looked affronted.

Katrina laughed. “Nik and Trina,” she said, shaking her

head. “Won’t Mom love that?”

His eyes widened. “Mom?”

347

I n Which a

Masquerade B all

U nmasks an

U ndead

Colleen Gleas on

“
 
M

y lady, your mother is wearin’ a hole in the floor,”

Verbena said as she twisted a final curl into place  at the top of her mistress’ coiffure. “She claims you’ll be late for  the masquerade ball if you don’t hurry. And something about  the Marquess o’Rockley attendin’ and wantin’ to see ye?"

Miss Victoria Gardella Grantworth looked in the mirror, eyeing her maid’s creation in the form of a tall  –  very tall  –coiffure. Her dark hair had been piled to an impossible height and then powdered so that her black curls looked more grey than white. A small bluebird perched at  the side of her column of hair

348

and a bejewelled comb rested at the top. Pink and yellow  flowers and a variety of jewels further decorated the powdered  curls.

“I don’t know that Marie Antoinette’s hair was ever this

particular hue,” Victoria said, “but I think it looks lovely. And  perhaps I’d best go down before Mother comes up to drag me  off.”

She stood and the skirts of her gown rose with her as if they had a life of their own. Victoria was used to wearing the high-waisted, clinging skirts of contemporary styles, but these wide panniers and heavily brocaded layers of fabric at least left her legs free to move beneath  without getting too caught up in the skirts. The only other benefit of the yards of material dripping from her body was that there were plenty of places to hide a wooden stake, between all the ruffles, lace and gathers. She felt for the one that rested just to the right side of her torso, cunningly hidden behind a pouf of lace.

“I do hope there aren’t any vampires at Lady Petronilla’s  tonight.” Victoria said, drawing on her gloves. “It will be  impossible to fight them in this costume.”

“But, m’lady, if there are, you’ll be very prepared,” Verbena  told her, a sparkle in her blue eyes. “I’ve slipped one o’ your  littler stakes here in the back of your hair.” She poked at the  heavy mass near the back of Victoria’s crown. “Just in case.”

“If I pull it out, it  is likely my hair will all come falling  down,” Victoria replied, gingerly feeling for the stake. “But in a  pinch, I suppose it shall do. I only hope I’ll not have need of it. I  have been looking forward to one night where I don’t have to  make some excuse  to sneak out and stake a vampire.”

349

Verbena handed her mistress a small reticule. “Holy water an’ a cross in here, my lady,” she told her. “An’ you look lovely.”

Victoria might look like any normal young woman, just debuting into society, but beneath her  gown  –  whether it be a fashionable high-waisted one or the retrospective costume she currently wore  –  she harboured a secret that made her very different from any other girl.

She wore the
 
vis bulla
, a tiny silver-cross amulet that gave her superhuman strength, speed and healing capability. Victoria  Gardella Grantworth was a Venator, a vampire hunter descended from a long line of slayers in the Gardella family.  Her duty, beyond that of her unsuspecting mother’s expectation that she marry well, was to hunt the undead who lurked in the shadows of London society. And everywhere else in the world.

Victoria wasn’t the only Venator. Her great-aunt Eustacia had been a powerful Venator before she became too old to hunt, and then there was Max Pesaro, another Venator, who spent more time disparaging Victoria’s hunting skills than anything else. He, too, was a vampire hunter, though not descended from the Gardella line.

Victoria was rather glad that she would be attending the masquerade ball at Lady Petronilla’s tonight, for Max disdained social functions and would not be there to glower at her and make snide comments about how many men had signed her dance card.

And then of course, there was Phillip.

Thinking of the Marquess of Rockney put a great smile on her face, so that when Victoria reached the bottom of the stairs and her mother saw her, she looked particularly radiant.

350

“Well now,” Lady Melly twittered, She was a handsome

woman herself and had chosen to dress in Greek fashion as

Circe. Having been widowed more than two years earlier by a man she’d cared for, but never truly loved, she had just recently

re-entered society with a vengeance. “You do look lovely,  Victoria dear, and it is certain that Rockley will be enchanted.  That tiny black patch on your cheek is just the most delightful  touch. Although I do rather think you could do without that little  wooden thing sticking out of the back of your coiffure. I vow,  sometimes I wonder what your maid is thinking when she  dresses your hair.”

Victoria smoothly moved  out of the way when her mother reached to touch the stake secreted in her curls. “I like it,  Mother. And should we not be leaving? I’m not certain how long it will take me to find  Rockley, as we’ll all be masked.”

“Oh, I have no fear of that,” Lady Melly  said, ushering her  daughter quite unnecessarily out of the front door. The carriage  was waiting, a footman standing with the door open and the  groom holding the horses. “He shall be dressed as that infamous  Robin Hood, and I’ve made certain that he’ll know who the  mysterious Marie Antoinette is.”

Victoria didn’t bother to ask how her mother had found out how Phillip  –  as he’d asked her to call him  –  would be costumed, or how she could have informed him of her daughter’s guise. It didn’t matter one whit. She merely allowed her mother to muse delightfully over her machinations to have her only daughter marry a wealthy marquess.

Not that Victoria minded, for Phillip was handsome, charming and seemed to be as besotted with her as she was with him. He’d been seeking her out at every social event they’d both attended since her debut . . . and had even kissed her once while

driving her through the park. That was when he insisted that she

351

call him by his given name, despite the fact that they weren’t

married or even betrothed.

When they arrived at Lady Petronilla’s home, Victoria had to succumb to her mother’s last-minute fussing before she could emerge awkwardly from the carriage. Really, those skirts were more than a bit much, and she nearly lost her balance due  to their weight and the fact that her heel caught in a hem.

She
 
really
 
hoped there would be no vampires here tonight.

Inside the ball, Victoria and her mother made their way from the grand foyer into the ballroom. The butler introduced them only as ‘Her Majesty Marie Antoinette and Circe’, since they were masked and would remain that way until midnight.

In spite of wishing to appear aloof, Victoria found herself looking for Robin Hood. From the way her mother had wrapped her talon-like fingers around her arm, she knew Lady Melly wouldn’t let her slip into the crowds until they found him.

But then a generously sized Aphrodite bore down upon them, her gown flowing behind her like a great pink sail. Lady  Melly released Victoria’s arm and greeted one of her two bosom friends, the Duchess of Farnham.

“I daresay, Victoria, you look absolutely lovely,” crowed  the Duchess, who wore a heavy necklace of garnets and a light  dusting of crumbs. “Or shall I say, Your Majesty? Perhaps you  ought to adjust your mask a  bit,” she added.

“Yes indeed,” Lady Melly said, pulling urgently on  Victoria’s mask, unaware that a sharp edge was scraping across  her daughter’s nose. “It would be a shame if Bretlington or  Werthington-Lyce recognized you before Rockley, for I don’t  know  how you should get out of dancing with them.”

352

In that, Victoria could not help but agree, for the former had exceedingly putrid breath that accompanied non-stop raptures over his bloodhounds and the latter spoke nary a word at all but spent his time leering down the bodice of her gown and treading upon her toes.

But at that moment, her mother’s manipulations came to fruition. Victoria felt the presence of Phillip behind her before he even spoke. Perhaps it was the smell of the lemon-rosemary pomade he favoured, or perhaps it was merely that prickle of awareness, of attraction, that hummed between them. At any rate, she turned slowly  –  so as not to appear too eager, yet be sure he knew that she was delighted to see him  –  and immediately found his gaze behind his black mask.

His dark eyes were hooded by heavy lids that always gave him an appearance of deep contemplation, yet coupled with underlying humour and sensuality. “That is quite a magnificent coiffure Your Majesty,” he said, removing his soft, feathered hat as he bowed. “It’s a wonder that your slender neck can carry the weight, especially with all those jewels and other ornaments therein.”

“Indeed, Sir Robin of the Hood,” she replied. “I hope that  you haven’t any designs on relieving me of any of said jewels,  under the guise of lightening the load on my poor little head.”

“Jewels? Nay, my fair Queen,” Phillip said, his eues  glinting wickedly from behind the mask. “It is not jewels that I  seek from you.”

Victoria could feel her mother’s barely suppressed delight at this exchange, even as her own cheeks warmed beneath the mask and her stomach gave a delicious flutter.

Phillip, savvy as he was, took that moment to break off their little sally and turn to bow at Circe and Aphrodite, both of

353

whom had eyes shining with delight and fingers twittering  silently with expectation. “Good evening, my ladies,” he said,  again flourishing his cap. “How lovely you both look this  eventide. I do hope you might forgive this outlaw if he claims  the Queen for a waltz  –  as she refuses to part with her jewels.”

“Oh, but of course,” replied Lady Melly, fairly shoving

Victoria at Rockley.

Fortunately, Phillip had become familiar with Lady Melly’s enthusiasm due to past exchanges, and he caught Victoria’s arm before she  –  and her mass of skirts  –  stumbled over his boots.  “Shall we?” he asked, cupping her fingers intimately around his warm, muscular arm.

As he drew her towards the dance floor, where a country dance had just ended, Victoria passed a golden-haired man dressed as a medieval lute player. Though he wore a mask the colour of well-brewed tea, topaz eyes glittered through the holes and caught Victoria’s gaze.

A little shiver tingled over the back of her shoulders and she felt a quick, funny twist in her middle. She knew him. The knowing heat in those eyes, the little lift at one side of that full mouth.

Sebastian Vioget.

What on earth was Sebastian Vioget doing
 
here
?

This time, Victoria did stumble over her blastedly heavy skirt as Phillip drew her into a smooth embrace, very correct, with the proper amount of space between them, and launched them into the three-count step.

Even as she was fully aware of the imprint of Phillip’s hand at the back of her waist and the comforting feel of his fingers

354

around hers, Victoria couldn’t keep her attention from following  the masked lute player. He was dressed in an emerald shirt with  gold tunic over it, making it easy to follow the shine of his garb  as he moved smoothly through the clusters of people.

The last time she’d seen  Sebastian Vioget had been at the  Silver Chalice, a pub that he owned and operated in the unpleasant, dangerous neighbourhood of St. Giles. His clientele consisted mainly of vampires, although a few brave  –  or unwitting  –  humans also patronized the place.

Somehow, Sebastian had recognized the fact that Victoria was a Venator and he’d made his fascination clear. Then there had been that moment in his private office . . .

“My dear, you seem rather quiet tonight,” Phillip said,  breaking into her thoughts. “I  do hope that my appearance didn’t  set you off any plans you might have had to add to your dance  card, though I must confess, I would have battled my way  through any of your admirers to claim my waltz tonight. Or,  dare I hope  –  waltzes?”