“Do not let him upset you, Lady Thornton,” Corin advised, coming to stand next to her. “He is a bit rigid in his expectations for obedience.”
“Why is he like that?” Clio asked.
“I wish I knew. Been this way as long as I’ve known him.”
She looked at the manservant. “And yet you stay.”
“Gives a man a challenge, doesn’t it? There’s no effort required to serve a good-tempered master. But a fellow like our viscount takes a bit of work.”
Clio found herself smiling at Corin. “I am sorry I got you in trouble last night by sneaking away. How does your head feel?”
He waved her words away. “No apology necessary. My head doesn’t hurt much. And the pain was worth it just to see the expression on our lord and master’s face when he saw you were gone.” He looked at her closely. “Don’t misjudge him, Lady Thornton. He’s a good man.”
“I know,” Clio said quietly.
Corin nodded. “I thought you might.”
They stood in silence for a moment, until Clio added, “I am afraid I don’t bring out the best in him.”
“Now I disagree, and I know his cousins, the Arboretti, do, too,” Corin told her. “They were saying it to me just today. Our Miles hasn’t been this exciting to be around in years.”
“Exciting,” Clio repeated doubtfully.
“Aye. Used to be you could count on him being either surly or churlish. But since you’ve been around, he’s become unpredictable. It makes things more interesting.”
Before the clock struck midnight, things would become much more interesting than any of them had bargained for.
The man known as the Vampire of London stood at the window of the peacock chamber and looked at the moon. He knew the words on the news sheet were a lie, because he knew where Clio Thornton was. Indeed, he had watched her slip out the servants’ entrance of Dearbourn Hall earlier that day, and back in that evening.
He did not like that she was there. He did not like her at all. He would deal with her, he decided, teach her to meddle where she did not belong, make her pay for her stupid and insulting bluff. He would take care of her. No one and nothing was going to get in his way. Not when he was this close. Not when—
He was startled by the sound behind him. He swung around to glare as a footman entered through a hidden service door in the wall. “Excuse me, sir,” the servant said. “I was sent to find Sir Saunders Cotton. Have you seen him?”
He stared at the footman for a moment, then moved his stare to the door he had come through. “No.” He smiled. “No I haven’t.”
The footman had backed out of the room and run so quickly down the corridor that he collided with two maidservants bringing platters of food for the party, and was fired on the spot. “I didn’t mind a bit, though, I tell you,” he testified before the Special Commission later. “Would have quit myself that very night. No way I ever wanted to see that smile again. Poor Lady Thornton. Must have suffered at his hands something awful.”
“Must you go so early, darling Viscount?” Mariana said with a pout. “The fireworks will not begin for hours.”
The words “for hours” had never sounded so much like “forever” as they did when she spoke them. “I am afraid I am not feeling well,” Miles said lamely. “I was visiting a sick friend today and I fear I have caught whatever he had.”
Mariana’s hand shot up over her mouth. “Oh! You are ill.” She backed up hastily, nearly tripping over one of the three dozen monkeys that seemed to have accompanied every female guest. “In that case, by all means, go. With my delicate constipation—”
“—constitution—” Doctor LaForge corrected.
“—I am very susceptible. Like a baby bird. I should not want to get ill before our wedding.”
“No, that would be a tragedy,” Miles said, trying to repress his joy at this new discovery. If he could somehow manage to be ill for the entire duration of his marriage, then he could keep Mariana and her delicate constipation at a good distance. “Good night, Lady Mariana,” he said with a loud cough and a bow.
“Good night, Viscount darling,” she shouted to him, almost sprinting in her efforts to get away. Then she turned and spoke to the man at her right. “Do you think I am in any danger, Saunders? Oh! I feel my heart palpitating already.”
“Please do not fear, Lady Mariana. I am sure you are fine. If I may say so, I have never seen you look so well. The blush on your bosom only makes the jewels upon it shine more brightly.”
Mariana smiled at him and slipped her arm through his. “Dear Saunders. You are so malodorously kind to me.”
Doctor LaForge, walking behind the couple, opened his mouth to make a correction, then shut it. Miles could not have agreed with him more.
For the first time, an interaction with Mariana had put him in a good mood, and Miles almost smiled at his cousins when he brushed past them on his way up the stairs. Without realizing it, he had begun to whistle as he walked down the empty corridor of his wing of the house, and he whistled louder as he crossed into his apartment.
The transformation was astonishing. In the course of one day the rooms had gone from impersonal, cavernous spaces to comfortable chambers that looked like someone might live in them. Might even
want
to live in them. But even as he contemplated this change, the hint of a smile that had been on his lips disappeared. Because, despite the candles burning in the sconces and the handsome furniture, it was clear that the rooms were empty.
Or almost. Slumped unconscious against the wall opposite him was the body of a footman. Next to him lay a large block of quartz, just the right size to knock a man out, and the equally unconscious body of Toast. As he approached the man and the monkey Miles saw that the door to one of the service corridors leading out of his chamber was slightly ajar. He paused just long enough to be sure that both the footman and the beast had a pulse, then plowed down the corridor.
Four men. Three of his special footmen plus Corin. He had left four men guarding her, and she was gone.
There was no way Clio could have orchestrated that herself. Sneaking past Corin the night before was one thing, distracting his guards earlier another, but he had chosen these men for their skill and after what had happened that afternoon they would have been more careful. And her monkey had been hurt as well. She would never have left Toast if he were injured. No, this was different. This had to be the work of someone else.
Miles swallowed hard, forcing himself to concentrate. The corridor came to an end abruptly, junctioning with another that ran across the middle of the house. To the left lay the library and Mariana’s wing. To the right were the kitchen and the stables. Think, damn it, Miles commanded himself. If you were trying to make off with a woman, which way would you go.
To the right. Miles did not have far to travel before his hunch was confirmed. Guard number two lay sprawled across the top of a staircase that led directly to the kitchen. Miles did not even bother to check this one’s pulse but leaped over him and took the stairs four at a time. A grown man hit on the head remained unconscious for anywhere from one to ten minutes, Miles knew, but not usually more. That meant that he was not that far behind them.
Hopefully. And even then… Ten minutes could be a lifetime in the hands of a fiend. What if it was the vampire who had her? What if he was hurting her right now? What if he was digging his teeth into her neck right now, into that beautiful neck, the neck that had trembled when he kissed it, the neck that had tasted like—
Guard number three lay at the bottom of the stairs in a heap.
This is your fault.
He never should have gone to the ball that night. He never should have trusted her with only four guards. He should have stayed to protect her.
This is your fault, Miles. You failed.
He should have been there, with her, the whole time, he should have stayed with her no matter what, if he loved her he never should have abandoned Beatrice that way, and then she would never have gone to that place, would never have left the house, would never—
Tripping over Corin’s leg outside the stables, shook miles back into the present. A horse was missing, a gelding, and without pausing, Miles leaped on the nearest animal, which happened to be saddled. He left the stable yard at a gallop and skidded into the street, looking left and right for hoofprints.
A low whistle from a tall hedge next to him drew his eye. He urged his horse over to it, and peered inside. His mouth fell open.
“You said two hours. You are late,” Clio said.
Miles stared at her, dumbfounded.
“I know you are going to be angry, but before you begin hollering and hurling insults, let me explain.”
“I never holler,” Miles said in a voice that was as filled with menace as a poison dipped sword.
Clio shuddered. She wished she had taken the footman up on his offer of a weapon. “I need to do an errand. Three of them actually. And I need you to come with me. To make sure I do not hurt anyone. I knew if I behaved like a civil person and asked for your assistance, you would say no. So I was forced—by you—to behave uncivilly. Since we are outside already, though, and since I went to all this trouble, won’t you help me?”
Miles had to clench his large hands into fists to keep from ringing her neck. “Are you a lunatic, Lady Thornton?”
Glio seemed to consider the question. “Possibly. I might be the vampire, remember. That is why I need your help.”
“Absolutely not.” Miles’s refusal was firm but his voice almost shook with fury. “You are coming back into the house with me right now.”
Clio nodded and coaxed her horse just out of range of his grasp. “I thought that might be your response. I wanted to give you a chance since you insisted that we work together, but I knew it was futile. This partnership will never work. Good-bye, Lord Dearbourn.” She dug her heels into the gelding’s flanks, and began to gallop down the street.
The tempest of conflicting emotions raging within Miles did not affect his reflexes, and he was chasing after her before she had gone even three yards. The relief he felt at seeing her safe was entirely eclipsed now by fury and outrage, and if Clio thought that by disappearing into the night she could escape their brunt, she was very wrong. As soon as they got wherever they were going, he would wring her neck, then throttle her, then holler and hurl insults at her, then wring her neck again, then lock her up, using chains this time, lock her in a corner of his apartment, an uncomfortable one, and leave her there, perhaps for months. And he would damn well force her to wear one of those new dresses. And to ride her horse like a proper lady, not astride like a man.
He saw her look over her shoulder but was so absorbed in glaring ferociously at her and making plans for her torment that he did not bother to turn around, which was why he did not see Corin and Toast and the three guards waving her off triumphantly. But Clio saw them, and saw Miles on her heels, and something inside her fluttered. He looked magnificent when he was angry.
She glanced at the fronts of the houses they were passing, squinting to identify the crests. At the fifth one she reigned in her horse and deftly steered it into the alley that ran along the house.
“What the dev—” Miles began, but Clio silenced him with her finger to her lips.
“Shhh. We do not want to rouse the staff.”
“Whose staff,” Miles asked, whispering despite himself.
“Lord Mosley’s. That is his house right there.” She pointed to the building on their left with two windows in the wall. The open shutters on one of them moved lazily back and forth in the evening breeze. “His personal apartments are on the second level. If you will hold my horse, I will go in first.”
Miles blinked at her for a moment. “Are you suggesting that you plan to enter Lord Mosley’s personal apartments by climbing through that window?”, he asked finally.
“Exactly. I knew you would be a good accomplice. Here,” she handed him the reins, and, steadying herself with a hand against the side of the building, stood with her feet in both stirrups. The reason for her choice of a male saddle was now clear, but Miles had other more important things to think about.
“You mean, you expected me to follow you?” he asked, grabbing her by the wrist.
Clio avoided his gaze. “I do not think this is the best time or place for this discussion. We do not know when Lord Mosley might come home.”
Miles sought her eyes. “Answer my question.”
“Yes. Given your dislike of being disobeyed, I thought it likely that you would follow me.”
Miles did not like being tricked. Or lied to. Or understood quite so well. “And you figured that once I did I would just sit here outside while you broke into a gentleman’s house?”
“Of course not.” Clio was aghast. “As soon as I am inside I will let the rope down for you to climb up. I would not leave you out here idly.”
“I cannot tell you how that relieves me,” Miles said in a tone so controlled it was almost inhuman. “What exactly does Lord Mosley’s house contain that requires you to rob it?”
“Oh,” Clio said, as if everything were now clear. “I am not robbing anyone. We are just going to do a search.” She decided he did not need to know about the notice she had put in the news sheets that day to stir the vampire into action. He was already overreacting.