The Carnelian Crow: A Stoker & Holmes Book (Stoker and Holmes 4)

by Colleen Gleason

  Victoria wasn’t the only Venator in the world. 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 Rockley 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.

  “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 from 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 little 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 whatever 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 on that,” Lady Melly said, ushering her daughter quite unnecessarily out 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 found out how Phillip—as he’d asked her to call him—would be costumed, nor how she would inform 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 Victoria felt toward 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 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 the covering, 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.”

  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 favored, 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 delighted to see him—and immediately found his gaze behind the black mask.

  His dark eyes were hooded by heavy lids that always gave him an appearance of deep contemplation, and yet underlying humor 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 of 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 for my poor little head.”

  “Jewels? Nay, my fair queen,” Phillip said, his eyes 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 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 toward 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 color 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 around hers, Victoria couldn’t keep her attention from following the masked lute player. He was dressed in an emerald shirt with a 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 neighborhood 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. And there had been that moment in his private office….r />
  “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?”

  Victoria smiled up at him, but felt a twinge of guilt. She’d had to forestall or interrupt their dances more than once, when duty called for her to locate and stake a vampire. “Waltzes? I would be most delighted to grant you those, in the plural…insofar as I can trust you won’t try to relieve me of my jeweled hairpieces. Such stories I’ve heard about you, Sir Robin Hood, and your quick fingers.”

  His eyes glinted appreciatively. “As I have been so bold as to proclaim, your majesty, it isn’t your jewels that I hope to obtain.”

  “Something more valuable?” she asked, suddenly forgetting about Sebastian Vioget, and vampires, and anything other than the man looking down at her.

  “Something eminently more valuable…and enjoyable.”

  It was at that exceedingly inopportune moment that Victoria felt a telltale chill over the back of her neck. As she was well aware, that cold prickle wasn’t due to any sudden draft or change in temperature…it was her Venator sense telling her that a vampire was in the vicinity.

  Blast.

  Ignoring the sensation for the moment, Victoria looked demurely away from Phillip’s warm gaze. He’d already kissed her once, and he’d made it quite clear he intended to do so again.

  “Is that so?” she replied, automatically moistening her lips before she realized how closely he was watching her. The warmth bloomed in her cheeks again and she felt a rise in her heartrate. Odd, how she felt little fear or consternation in facing a demonic undead…but when confronted with a mere man who was besotted with her, she felt more than a bit out of her element.

  “I daresay you must be quite warm in that heavy gown,” Phillip said, tightening his arm around her waist. “Perhaps a turn on the patio would be in order? I believe the moon is quite lovely.”

  She wanted nothing more than that…except perhaps something a bit more private where they might share another kiss. But duty had reared its ugly head, and Victoria couldn’t ignore the chill of an undead. Nor could she waste any more time for fear the vampire would have the chance to woo his or her victim away.

  “I should love to see Lady Petronilla’s gardens, for they are always quite lovely in June. But when I tripped earlier, one of my flounces tore. I might visit the retiring room first, to see if it can be repaired.”

  Disappointment clouded his eyes for a moment, but Victoria continued with a gentle smile, “It shall be quite dark in the gardens, and I don’t wish to cause any further damage to the flounce before it is repaired.”

  At the mention of the dark garden, and her accompanying smile that told him she fully intended to take advantage of it, Phillip relaxed a bit. “Perhaps you might be a bit thirsty? I shall find some lemonade while you have your gown repaired.”

  Victoria smiled with delight. At their very first meeting, Phillip had brought her a cup of lemonade when he learned that her dance card had filled up before he could claim a second turn, and it had become sort of a jest between them. “Indeed, I would greatly appreciate that.”

  The waltz ended a few bars later, thankfully, for Victoria had delayed long enough. As soon as she and Phillip reached the edge of the dance floor, she slipped from his grip and started to move herself and her ungainly gown in the direction of the ladies tiring room. But as soon as he turned away, she changed direction and made her way through the crush of costumed people.

  Still fairly inexperienced at understanding her Venator sensibilities, Victoria wasn’t certain how near the vampire was, or even how many there were. Max and Aunt Eustacia had assured her that eventually she would be able to tell, but for now, the chill merely signified that an undead was in the proximity.

  And since a vampire couldn’t enter a home uninvited, Victoria presumed he or she had arrived under a mask of some sort, pretending to be one of the invitees. Which would make it even more difficult to identify the villain.

  She’d pushed her way between a milkmaid juggling two, thankfully empty, pails and a doublet-garbed Romeo when she suddenly came face to face with the golden-haired lute player.

  “Why, my dear Venator,” he murmured, slipping his hand around her arm in the crowd, “how delighted I am that you should have followed me so quickly. Shall we slip away to finish the…discussion…we began at the Chalice?”

  “Sebastian,” she replied, tugging her arm discreetly away so as not to draw attention. If her mother saw her tête-à-tête with a man who not only wasn’t the Marquess of Rockley, but was also without a title at all, she’d come barreling over to separate them immediately. “What are you doing here?”

  She didn’t know much about Sebastian—particularly whether or not he should be trusted—but one thing she did know was that he wasn’t the vampire she sought.

  “Why, I’m attending a masquerade ball…the same as you, I presume. What a delight to see you here, ma chér, although I must admit that your costume could be considered in poor taste…considering the fact that her majesty met a most unpleasant end. According to my Grandfather Beauregard, it was rather a bloody incident.”

  She drew back a bit. Was that some sort of warning? A renewed prickle lifted the hair at the back of her neck, reminding her that she had other business to attend to. “Why are you here?” she asked again.

  Those sensual lips smiled knowingly, lifting his mask a bit. “Perhaps I came simply because I knew that you would be here…and I find that masks, though obscuring, can also be quite…freeing.” His hand slid through the crook of her arm, easing her flush against his side—or at least as flush as he could, with inches of skirts, crinolines, and panniers between them. “I noticed that you extricated yourself from Lord Rockley quite directly, as soon as you recognized me.”

  She realized he’d begun to guide them through the crowd, away from the dance floor, and toward the rest of the house. Since that was the direction she wished to go anyway, she allowed him to think he was in charge.

  After all, with her vis bulla strength, she could snap his grip and stop him in his tracks at any given moment, as the lascivious Mr. Bendleworth had discovered a week ago when he tried to lure her into a dark corner.

  Aside of that, since she didn’t trust Sebastian as far as she could throw the well-padded Duchess of Farnham, Victoria felt it might be best to keep an eye on him for a bit. Especially if there was a vampire about.

  As they pulled free of the party-goers and found themselves moving into the house’s grand entrance, Victoria’s neck grew colder, confirming that she was heading in the right direction.

  Suddenly, she heard a low cry from one of the rooms beyond, and she pulled free of Sebastian’s grip. Heart beating, she slipped the stake from its little loop beneath a flounce and began to move quickly down the corridor. Her gown rustled, causing her to curse the fact that she’d listened to her mother’s costume suggestion instead of dressing the way she wished: as Diana, in a flimsy, light gown. She would have even been able to put stakes in a bow quiver and wear it over her shoulder.

  Victoria reached the only door that was closed tightly, certain this was where the soft cry had come from. Her neck was still cold, but there was silence. A quick glance behind told her that Sebastian had disappeared, blast it, but she couldn’t worry about him now.

  The stake gripped hard in her hand, she listened again, and closed her fingers around the cool door knob. Then, she heard it again. A low, pained cry from the other side of the door.

  Victoria twisted the knob and eased it open quickly and quietly. Inside, the room was dark, lit only by a fire needed more for its illumination than warmth. Shadows danced, black and red, and she darted her gaze around quickly.

  There. In the corner, the shapes of a man and woman, entwined.

  En
twined?

  Victoria paused, her stake poised, and forever after, she would be grateful for that hesitation. For as she looked more closely, she saw that not only were there no burning red eyes or long white fangs on either of the two figures, but that one of them was dressed in the long white gown of Circe.

  Mother?

  And the other was the tall, slender figure of Lord Jellington, Lady Melly’s erstwhile beau.

  Victoria sucked in her breath and fairly stumbled back out of the room, deliriously grateful that they’d been much too engaged in…whatever they were doing…to have noticed her presence.

  Her mother.

  No wonder she wanted Victoria married off. Then she would no longer have a daughter to chaperone and could go about her own business.

  Victoria hurried back down the hall and then paused, waiting to feel the temperature at the back of her neck. Yes, the chill was still there.

  A broad, curving staircase rose out of the foyer in front of her. Perhaps….

  Victoria gathered up her bothersome skirts and hurried up the steps, stake gripped in one hand and slippers silent on the treads. As she rose, her neck became slightly more chilled and she smiled in pleasure. Hopefully, she was on the right path and would soon dispatch the nuisance of the undead…and then be able to return to Phillip, lemonade, and the moonlight.

  Once at the top of the stairs, she hesitated for a moment, then moved smoothly along to the left. Most of the doors were closed, for they led to bedchambers, but she paused next to each one to listen and feel.

  The third one door on the left was slightly ajar, but she was certain the prickling chill at her nape had become colder. One hand on the door, she eased it open slightly and peered inside.

  A dark figure moved within the shadows of the room, and Victoria caught her breath. Smiling to herself, she levered the door open further, started to move in and then realized her skirts were too wide. The light from the hallway would soon spill in enough to warn the vampire that someone was there, but he would likely think she was simply an innocent, helpless girl.