by Mary Balogh
“It was not easy to obtain a copy,” she told him, feeling a bit more sure of herself in the face of his obvious discomfiture. “But my brother is a friend of the publisher’s son, and managed to gift me with an early copy because I had enjoyed Dr. Polidori’s story so well. And then,” she added, frowning in remembrance, “I did hear that the rest of the books were destroyed in a fire.” She looked up at him. “And the publisher decided not to print any more of them. I cannot understand why, for it was quite a thrilling tale.”
Lord Rude said something under his breath that she was certain should not have been uttered in the hearing of a gently bred woman like herself, but he made no attempt to apologize. Then he fixed his dark gaze on her once more. “So that is why you continue to gad about, spying on people. It is a dangerous occupation.”
Caroline swallowed. So he had figured it out. But before she could respond, he continued, “I’ll warn you again, madam, not to poke that pert little nose of yours into business that you don’t understand, and things that could endanger your slender, delicate neck. Starcasset’s book is a fairy tale, the figment of an overactive imagination. Do not allow it to mislead you into ridiculous assumptions.”
Perhaps he might have continued his lecture if Mr. Thornton—James—had not appeared at that moment from the other end of the gallery. He was dutifully carrying two small cups, and recognition must have shown in Caroline’s expression, for Lord Rude was facing the opposite direction and would not have seen him.
“So your companion has returned,” Rude said, beginning to ease away. “Do not take my warning lightly, madam,” he said as he stalked off.
Moments later, Caroline realized her fingers were still shaking a bit as she gratefully accepted the cup of lemonade from James.
“My apologies that it took much longer than I’d hoped,” James told her, glancing beyond her shoulder at Rude’s disappearing figure. “The first cup they offered me was too warm, and the second I thought tasted much too sweet. I made certain they prepared it correctly. Who was that you were chatting with, Miss…er, Caroline?”
Having sipped the lemonade, and finding herself agreeing that the beverage was neither too warm nor too sweet, she swallowed and replied, “A gentleman passing by who stopped to ask for directions to the upper boxes.” How quick she was on her feet with James! Why could she not be quite as snappy when she spoke with Lord Rude?
James nodded, and offered her his arm, then peered at one of the murals. “What a ridiculous rendition of a hound,” he said. “Why would one ever portray a hunting dog with a snout of that length? It’s much too short, and shallow, to be of any use running down a fox or hare.”
Caroline glanced at the image in question, noting that the hound seemed to be running happily alongside cherubs, hares, cats, and the like. She forbore to point out that it looked nothing like a hunting dog, and more like a pup frolicking with friends. Not that James would have heard her response, for he was still waxing on about not only the size of the snout, but also about the unfortunate pup’s haunches.
Apparently, they were too curved.
“Perhaps we should return to our seats,” Caroline at last managed to insert when he paused to sip his lemonade. “I’m certain Isobel is wondering what has befallen us.”
“And I must return with you and your agreement to accompany us on our adventure tomorrow evening,” James said. “I shall not take your declination, my dear Caroline, without being grievously offended.”
“But I cannot cancel my previous engagement,” she replied as they began to walk back to their box. “Surely you understand it would not be seemly for me to do so. I am meeting my friend Miss Henry late in the afternoon, and I do not believe there will be time to—”
“Why do you not invite her to join our party,” James suggested. “That will solve the problem, and we shall be able to go as planned.”
Oh, that was a splendid idea, and one which Caroline seized upon readily. If Miss Henry were as intrigued by the old spa as she seemed, then she would no doubt be even more delighted to take part in their other adventure.
“I shall put the invitation to her,” she told James. “But if she does not wish to join us, I am afraid I must keep my engagement with her.”
“Of course,” James replied, opening the door to their box. “But I trust that you will be greatly persuasive so that I am not to be deprived of your company…under the moonlight.”
Caroline felt her face heat and she ducked her head as she slipped past him into the box. “Indeed” was all she replied as she did so, taking her seat.
“Has he succeeded?” Isobel asked, swooping down on her as soon as she sat. “You will be attending with us tomorrow, will you not? James, tell me you did convince my dear Caroline to come with.”
Isobel’s question to her brother saved Caroline from having to answer, leaving her free to glance out over the other spectators. Immediately, she found herself meeting the dark, intense stare of Lord Rude from across the way. This time, he didn’t attempt to be casual about it; he caught her gaze, nodded and even made a subtle bow.
Caroline pulled her attention from him, refusing to acknowledge his mockery. But as she scanned over the other boxes, she noted that, while Mistress Poison’s young lover had returned to his seat in the balcony, he sat alone.
Mistress Poison was nowhere to be seen, and, although Caroline watched during the remainder of the performance, the tiny brunette never reappeared.
CHAPTER 5
CAROLINE HAD JUST FINISHED BREAKING HER FAST the next morning and was still sitting in the dining room with Mrs. Argenot when the butler announced a visitor.
“Mr. Robert Merrill,” he said.
“Robbie!” Caroline was out of her chair in a flurry of skirts, throwing her arms around the eldest, and favorite, of her three brothers. “What on earth are you doing in Bath?”
“Mama mentioned you were here with Cousin Hilda,” he said, bowing to Mrs. Argenot, who had risen when he entered, “and when I happened to be in town for a time, I knew that I must come to call.” He returned her hug and dropped a quick peck on her cheek.
“Indeed you had must,” Caroline said, ignoring proper grammar in the light of this lovely surprise. “For if I had heard you were here and that you did not visit me, I should never have let you live through it.”
“More frogs in my bed?” he said, taking a seat now that the ladies had also taken theirs. “But you know that my only recourse would then be to fill yours with spiders.”
Caroline rang for the butler to bring another place setting (for their staff in Bath was small), and replied with a wave, “Ah, pish. I am no longer afraid of spiders. So you would have gone to the trouble of catching the crawly creatures in vain.”
“I am glad to hear that,” Robbie said with a smile. He was a handsome fellow, with the Merrill dimples that graced all the siblings, courtesy of their mother. He had the same dark hair as their father, while Caroline and the other brothers had honey-colored curls. “For I confess, it was nearly as traumatic for me to catch them as it was for you to find them in your bedwarming pan.”
“Oh!” Caroline squealed, suddenly remembering her good news. “I am ever so pleased you are here. I have a wondrous surprise for you.”
“And what might that be?” Robbie asked, helping himself to a rasher of bacon.
“I have made the acquaintance of one of your friends. A Miss Isobel Thornton.”
“Isobel is here?” He seemed sincerely surprised, and just as delighted. “That is a grand bit of news.”
“And we are going on a twilight picnic tonight at the ruins of an old abbey,” she told him. “You must come with us, Robbie! Isobel will be inconsolable if you don’t. Say you haven’t any other engagements.”
“I haven’t any other engagements,” he told her with a fond smile. “And I can only imagine how Isobel would stomp her foot if she learned that her plans were turned awry. I shall indeed accompany you.” He dabbed at a spot of grease from the
bacon. “A ruined abbey by twilight, hmm? You must be in your great glory, kitten,” he added. “I do believe the clouds might have dissipated by then, for they have been rolling in frightfully dark. But you wouldn’t mind that at all, would you? It makes the day all the more gloomy—the better for an intriguing adventure.”
“I do anticipate it to be a fascinating excursion, clouds or no clouds. At least it hasn’t rained, as Mrs. Argenot suggested it might. And I am so happy you will join our party. I’ll send word round to Isobel that we have another guest attending. Shall I tell her it’s you, or shall we surprise her?”
“Oh, I think you’d best tell her that I’m here,” Robbie replied. “Isobel puts such effort into her dress for any occasion that I suspect a surprise might disrupt her planning.”
Caroline laughed. How well her brother knew her friend. “Indeed. I’ll send word around straight away, and then I must beg your leave, dear Robbie. For I have another engagement myself. Unless you wish to walk me to the Baths?”
“No, thank you, kitten,” he said. “Since I am now engaged this evening, I have other matters to attend to. I will be here tonight, though, and be well ready to see Isobel again. Now I am even more delighted that I made the point of seeing you while I am here.” His teasing smile told her that he was purely joking.
“I must be off after I dash off the message,” Caroline told him. “I will see you tonight.”
So quickly and with such delight did Isobel receive the message that Robbie was to accompany them that her response came back before Caroline left to meet Miss Henry. And when she read the message, which stated, “What a happy surprise! I am most pleased that your brother will join us along with three more of our acquaintances. And if there are any others who might wish to make up our party, tell them they are welcome to attend, as well.”
Miss Henry, or Ellen, as she insisted that Caroline call her, was as enthusiastic about the twilight picnic as she was about the old spa. “I must gain permission from my guardian for the adventure, but I am certain he will approve, provided my cousins are invited to attend, as well.”
Caroline linked her arm through Ellen’s as they walked through the crowded bathhouse. “I am almost tempted to cut our visit short so that you might obtain permission immediately!”
Ellen’s pretty bow lips smiled. “You have just spoken my own thoughts, but let us at least walk through the spa for a bit. My aunt and cousins are shopping for some new ribbons, and they won’t be back to fetch me for another hour.”
“Very well. But tell me, do you think your guardian will allow you to come tonight?”
“Mr. Blanchard is rather strict, but he is not unreasonable,” Ellen told her. “I have great hope that he will allow the adventure, especially if Aunt Lou chaperones.”
“Then we shall fix our thoughts on such an outcome and enjoy the rest of our visit here.” As they came around the corner into the main bath area, Caroline saw the hook-nosed man from the Pump Room.
Her arm must have tensed against Ellen, for her friend said, “Is something amiss?”
Caroline tugged her friend to the side and spoke quietly. “That man there, standing next to the very tall woman. Do you see him? He has dark hair, with the nose like a knife blade?”
“Oh, I do,” Ellen replied in a hushed voice—although such prudence wasn’t strictly necessary, as the cavernous room echoed with laughter and conversation. “He looks frightfully dangerous.” Then her eyes widened. “Oh, I do hope I have not offended you and that he isn’t Mr. Thornton. Or your brother, Mr. Merrill.” Even in the dim light, Caroline recognized the flush of pink over her friend’s cheeks.
“Oh, no indeed,” she replied. “I had thought the same thing. Does he not bring to mind the evil Melantrott from The Iron Gate? I am certain he has a lonely, frightened wife locked away in a tower somewhere. Does he not look the type?”
Ellen gasped an unladylike snort of laughter, then clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide above it. “Caroline, you ought to be ashamed!”
But mirth crinkled her face and she kept looking back at the hook-nosed man. “I cannot deny that he does have a certain look about him.” Ellen burst into giggles again. “And I suppose you look at that young woman there, in the yellow frock,” she said, gesturing subtly with her pinkie finger whilst her hand was still covering her mouth, “and suspect that she is an orphan girl who has been taken into the home of the kindly man and woman walking with her.”
Caroline stepped back and leaned against the wall so that she could have a better look at the girl in question. “Yes, indeed, and of course she has a horrid secret that she dare not allow to be exposed. Is there not a certain look about her eyes?”
“Of course. For if the secret is brought into the daylight, she’ll find herself in the same situation as Miss Harriet Leavenworth in The Dark Blade of Hawthorne Castle,” Ellen finished.
“And there may not be a Laird Blade to save her,” added Caroline. “Though he was so dark and unpleasant at first, I sensed there was more to him than simply villainy.”
“He ended up being so dashing and heroic,” Ellen sighed.
“I do believe Laird Blade is my favorite villain-turned-hero in all the books I have read,” Caroline agreed.
They looked at each other and giggled. “I vow,” Ellen said as she wiped away the tears from her eyes, “I never believed I could have so much fun at the hot springs.”
“Nor I,” Caroline added, once again linking her arm through Ellen’s. “Oh.” She stopped suddenly, a flush rushing over her face. “Oh, my, Ellen,” she said from the side of her mouth, and tightened her fingers on her friend’s arm. “Do you see that man over there? Oh, dear, he is gone.”
It had indeed been Lord Rude who seemed to have appeared from nowhere, walking briskly through the bath ruins, pushing past the throngs with ease and aplomb. But he hadn’t seen Caroline, for she and Ellen were tucked into a dark corner as they watched the people go by. And then he disappeared, his face settled in its familiar frown.
“Who was it? Your brother? Mr. Thornton? You cannot know how intrigued I am to meet this Mr. Thornton, who seems to have taken quite a fix to you.”
Caroline stood on her tiptoes, the better to peer over the other tourists’ heads. “No, no. Neither of them. It was… I believe he might be a Lord Tyndale type,” she said with a meaningful nod.
“Lord Tyndale?” Ellen frowned. “I don’t know to what book you are referring, Caro.”
“Oh, it is the most exciting book,” Caroline said. “The Venator, by Mr. George Starcasset. It’s better than The Vampyre by Dr. Polidori, and it’s much longer, too.”
Ellen was shaking her head, smiling. “I haven’t even heard of The Venator. But I was reading The Vampyre and Mr. Blanchard became quite annoyed. Normally he doesn’t care what books I read—he claims that reading anything is better than reading nothing (although he is careful not to say that in front of Aunt Lou). I once caught him reading one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels, and he seemed to be enjoying it. Though he would not admit to it.”
Caroline had the picture of a very proper, portly gentleman with plump white fingers sitting in his chair and reading with a glass of whatever it was men drank when they were reading horrid novels. She said, “I am not surprised that you haven’t read the book, dearest Ellen, for there were only a few copies made. I begin to wonder if there isn’t a reason for it. But, I digress. What I meant to say is, Lord Tyndale is a most frightening vampire. His eyes turn red when his fangs appear, and he lures young women—or men!—out into the darkness, where he feeds upon them. There is nothing of the romantic about him at all.”
Ellen’s eyes had grown wide. “How horrifying!”
Caroline nodded soberly. “It is nothing as titillating as The Vampyre. And Tyndale has humans who serve him because he is an undead and cannot go about in the sunlight. They belong to a secret society called the Tutela.”
“What a terrible tale! I must read it,” Ellen said, her eyes spa
rkling. “Will it keep me awake, listening to every odd sound?”
“It is a most horrid book that had me locking my window at night! But there are vampire hunters,” Caroline added in a whisper. “A whole family of them, for generations. They work in secret to keep humans safe from the horrible creatures, hunting and killing them with wooden stakes. When they stab at a vampire, it explodes into the dust its body would have turned to if it had remained dead and in its grave.”
“In the book?” Ellen whispered back.
“Yes. The Venators—that is what they are called, and hence the title of the book—are quite heroic. But…I begin to wonder if the book isn’t purely fiction. And if that’s why there weren’t many copies made of it.”
“Because it revealed too many se—”
“At last I have found you, Ellen. I have been searching for you these last thirty minutes.”
Caroline’s neck prickled and she turned at the familiar voice.
Ellen had straightened up at the sound of Lord Rude’s words, as if loath to be caught whispering conspiratorially. But she didn’t appear to be upset at his presence, and instead replied, “I’m sorry to worry you, but I didn’t expect to see you here, Mr. Blanchard. Aunt Lou and the cousins are shopping and intended to retrieve me at half-past three.”
Mr. Blanchard? Caroline felt her face grow fiery red as she looked up and met the eyes of none other than Lord Rude…who was also, apparently, Ellen’s guardian. And possibly, quite possibly, a vampire. She swallowed and tried to appear unmoved. But inside, her heart was pounding mercilessly.
His dark eyes skated over her, dismissing quite rapidly Caroline’s mental image of the portly gentleman with the pudgy fingers reading a horrid novel. “Well, now, Ellen, my dear,” he murmured. “I do hope you will properly introduce me to your companion.”
“Of course,” the girl replied. “Mr. Thaddeus Blanchard, may I present you to my dear friend Miss Caroline Merrill.”
