The Rest Falls Away (Page 40)

Tonight Victoria was the betrothed of the Marquess of Rockley.

Perhaps it was an impetuous decision, but Victoria wanted one night to enjoy being a woman in love with a handsome, charming, wealthy man. She wanted one night when she did not have to consider how a vampire might enter the ballroom, or how she might make a quick exit… or even whether the breeze at the back of her neck was a gust of summer wind or the sign of an undead.

She wanted to be normal.

Nevertheless, she had brought a stake and had hidden it with her cloak in the family parlor. Just in case.

Phillip had never looked more handsome as he led her to the dance floor after their betrothal was announced by his closest relative—his deceased mother’s brother—halfway through the ball. He swept Victoria gracefully into his arms and they began the first waltz of the second set, surrounded by a combination of beaming and surprised faces.

At first they were the only couple on the dance floor. Through five measures, Victoria felt the weight of half the ton’s gaze on her, assessing the wife-to-be of the Marquess of Rockley, one of the most sought-after bachelors of Society. He looked down at her as if she were the only woman he’d ever seen—or would see—as they turned around the oblong dance floor in an elongated triangular path.

By the time they’d come near the edge of spectators three times, other couples had begun to ease their way out to take their own turns to the waltz, and Victoria did not feel so much like a trophy on display.

Phillip lifted his gaze periodically to meet the eyes of friends, family, and acquaintances as he guided her through their paces, but his attention always returned to her. It made Victoria feel warm and tingly, the way he looked at her with promise and steadiness. She smiled, turning her face up and looking only at him, trusting that he would direct her through the steps without her having to notice where they were going or near whom they were stepping.

A wonderful feeling… allowing herself to let go. To not have to be aware of her surroundings. To not have to listen to her instincts and wonder when that chill would creep across her neck, and to not have to calculate how she would slip from the room to do her duty.

"Your aunt and your cousin did not appear to be pleased with our news," Phillip said after they had been dancing for a moment and there were others on the floor.

"I believe you simply took them by surprise with your announcement. They expressed their overwhelming emotion after you took your leave."

"I thought perhaps they would have wanted to attend tonight to celebrate with us. I am disappointed that they did not accept the invitation to join us here at St. Heath’s Row."

"Aunt Eustacia does not move about Society all that much anymore," Victoria replied. "She has come here from Italy in only the last four years, and she does not know very many people. And Max… he chooses not to attend functions such as these. Just as you did… until recently."

"I cannot fault your cousin for that; although had I known I would have found you, I am certain I would have made an effort to fend off the matchmakers much sooner."

"A lovely thought, Phillip, but I cannot agree. You know that I have moved very little in Society for the last two years, since I have been in mourning for my grandfather and father. If you had indeed bestirred yourself to move about thus, I fear I would have lost you before I found you."

"Never. Victoria, there would have been no one but you for me." He sighed, smiled, and continued, "I fear it is time that I make another confession."

As she had the first time, she raised an eyebrow. "Another one?"

"Another one. My last, Victoria, so enjoy it." He tipped his head and looked down at her. "The reason I chose to put myself at the mercy of Society this year is because I knew you had finally ended your mourning and were to come out. I wanted to meet the young girl I’d known long ago and see if she had grown into the woman she promised to be. She had; and I fell in love with her."

When he looked at her like that, with his shining blue eyes so steady and sure, she felt as though nothing would ever be so certain as Phillip and his presence. As if the reality of vampires and Lilith and the Book of Antwartha didn’t have to exist in a world that Phillip and she lived in.

But of course, it could not be. She already knew those evils existed. She had already fought them—and fought them successfully.

While she couldn’t leave them behind, couldn’t be hypnotized out of them as her mother had been, Victoria knew she could survive the split world as long as she had Phillip waiting for her on the other side.

"Max, I don’t recall the last time I saw you so disturbed."

"Disturbed? That’s much too polite a word to describe the way I’m feeling," he snapped at Eustacia. He’d been stewing about it since yesterday, when Rockley had blithely announced the news at Grantworth House.

"Victoria cannot marry—and a marquess, no less! What has addled her brain?"

"I don’t disagree with your sentiment, Max, but the fact remains that there is no law against a Venator marrying anyone, marquess or no."

"No law but common sense. Of which she apparently possesses none."

Eustacia had not moved from her chair; but despite her calm, measured words, he saw the concern in her ageless face. She might not rail and stalk as he did, but as she said, she was no more pleased than he was.

"We have the Book of Antwartha," he continued. "And I will admit that she played a much larger role in its recovery than I had expected… but she likely believes that all threat is now abolished, since we have the book, and she does not have to play at being Venator any longer." He flicked his finger over the sleek black stake he’d just slipped from his favorite hidden pocket.

"It is no more than I suspected when she was first called—she would find it exciting and exhilarating for a time, and then become bored with it," he continued. "And then she would want to return to her simple world of poetry-spouting beaux and pink furbelows and dance cards. This is precisely why women should not be Venators. Present company excepted, of course, Eustacia, as you always are the exception that proves the rule." He gave a short bow, for he recognized the beginnings of fire in her onyx eyes.

"Victoria has given no indication that she believes the threat is over, Max; you must admit you are being unfair. She did save your life during the process of getting the Book of Antwartha; and although it would have been preferable for the two of you to stop trying to cut the other out and work in tandem, you did indeed work together and succeeded. Brilliantly."