She didn't return to Grantworth House until after dawn. Then she fell into bed and slept restlessly.
When Aunt Eustacia sent a summons on the fourth day after Phillip burst into Victoria's bedchamber, she considered ignoring it. She didn't feel the need to meet with her aunt or Max, who would certainly be there. She was doing her job hunting and killing the undead; they'd retrieved the Book of Antwartha, which she had hidden at the chapel at St. Heath's Row before she and Rockley broke things off.
What could her aunt want to meet about?
Her decision was made when Lady Melly poked her head in her bedroom. "I'm attending tea at Winnie's; she and Petronilla were hoping you'd come too so we could discuss seating arrangements for the wedding. I haven't seen Rockley for a few days, Victoria. Is he ill?"
Apparently her mother didn't see the red rims of her own daughter's eyes, nor the black circles underscoring them. "Not that I know of. He's been very busy. And, unfortunately, I promised Aunt Eustacia I would visit today. It's been nearly a week. "
She really did have to tell her mother.
Every day she didn't, she risked its appearing in the papers before Lady Melly knew. It wasn't fair to her mother that she might be blindsided. The Society ladies would have a field day at her expense if that happened.
"Mother, I have to tell you something. Rockley and I had an argument. We…" Her voice trailed off when she saw the stricken look on Lady Melly's face.
"Well, surely you can mend the fence, Victoria! You cannot ruin your future over one small argument!"
One small argument.
"I wanted you to know in the event that you heard any rumors," she added lamely. Blast. She could single-handedly take down three vampires; why couldn't she tell her mother the truth?
"Well, I expect you to speak with him at the Mullingtons' ball next week and fix things! No excuses, Victoria. It's the duke's fiftieth birthday; everyone will be there. Including you. "
Victoria nodded. She had no choice, and Phillip possibly wouldn't attend anyway. He hated those affairs. And if there was even a hint of a rumor that he was eligible once again… well, he would be cornered before he took three steps into the room.
"Now, I will see you tonight. We leave at seven thirty. Be ready. And put something over those black circles under your eyes, Victoria. You look horridly exhausted. "
But in the end Victoria didn't go to Aunt Eustacia's. She sent a message back, after her mother left, that she was obligated to spend the day making calls.
And she spent the rest of the afternoon in her room.
That night she had no choice but to attend a musicale with Lady Melly. The only redeeming factor was that it was sure to be an early night, which would allow her to sneak out of the house and go what she had come to think of as patrolling for vampires.
The musicale was just as unexciting as the one she'd attended at the Straithwaites'; perhaps more so, since this time Rockley didn't make an appearance.
Neither, unfortunately, did any vampires.
It was after midnight when Grantworth House had settled to sleep, and Victoria slipped out the back door.
Barth, her trusty mode of transport, was waiting just around the corner, and as had become their habit, he merely nodded as she climbed into the hackney. He knew his duty by now and drove the carriage to a dangerous part of town. It varied each night; Victoria didn't care. She trusted Barth to know the best places to go and to take her there.
The cobbled streets were damp from a light summer rain, glistening like gray teeth in the moonlight. Victoria left the hackney and told Barth to come for her in two hours.
As the carriage trundled off, she walked to the center of the empty street and stood there, looking around. Daring any danger to accost her.
Everything was silent. Gray and black and silent.
She favored this section of the city—wherever it was; she didn't care and didn't need to know—because the street lamps had either burned out or not been lit tonight. It was the perfect breeding ground for vampires… or other thieves who needed to be taught a lesson. She wasn't particular.
After the first night of patrolling by herself, dressed in men's clothing, Victoria had elected to wear her split skirt on subsequent trips. Garbed as a woman, she attracted more attention from those who wanted to prey on the weak.
But tonight it appeared that the streets were devoid of any dangers for men or women.
She walked down the center of the road, bold and quick, watching for anything that might move in the shadows. Feeling for any faint chill over the back of her neck.
Nothing.
Nothing until she rounded the corner of her third block and saw the shift in an alley. And the back of her neck chilled.