Under other circumstances Clio might have stayed to discuss that interesting question, but since there were no Rightsons on the guest list she had in her hand and since she had quite a lot to do before it grew dark, she kissed both men on the cheek and left.
From Norton and Astor’s she went to see that word was spread warning women from Devonshire to be on their guard, and took out a small advertisement in the news sheets that anyone with information about the vampire should communicate with her, just in case either the fiend or the Special Commissioner thought his attempts to scare her away had worked. Then she headed to Which House, where a brief consultation with her client had been enough to secure the fact that he and his sister were also from Devonshire and a brief check of A Compendium of Vampires had confirmed one of the premises on which her plan was based. With her copy of the Compendium stashed on her person, she had gone to complete her final errand, depositing the five-hundred pounds she owed Captain Black in the hands of one of his thugs. The nearly quarter moon was lightly visible in the sky and the sun was just setting as she slid into the servants’ entrance of Dearbourn Hall and made her way back to Miles’s apartments.
She had felt a brief pang at Which House when she had looked at a calendar and realized it was her twenty-fifth birthday and that it, like the twenty-four that preceded it, was going to pass unnoticed, but she reminded herself that she did not care. Besides, paying off her debt had left her feeling light, almost giddy, especially toward the Deerhound, whose purse had enabled it. That, coupled with the fact that by the next day she would have caught the vampire, assuming she was not the vampire herself, had worked to erase her disappointment and put her in a very good mood.
Miles was having none of it. “What sick friend? Why did you visit a sick friend?”
His deep glower only made his eyes look more golden and did nothing to dull Clio’s happiness. “I went hoping I would catch whatever he has and pass it on to you,” she explained. “I read in a book once that certain ailments can be almost instantly fatal.”
“He? You went to visit a man?”
“Two of them, actually. Handsome ones. Does that make you jealous, my lord?”
Miles knew she was only teasing, but the hell of it was, it did. He was flat-out jealous. Worse, he found himself checking over her clothes to see if they looked tousled in any way. Not that he could tell with the tattered state they were in. Damn this woman. “Why haven’t you put on any of the gowns I had sent in for you?” he demanded.
“I—I couldn’t,” Clio replied, the challenge draining from her voice. “They are too lovely. I couldn’t wear them.”
“You can and you will,” Miles said, dead serious. “Right now. And you won’t go out again. Anywhere. Do you understand?”
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Miles snarled.
“Why would I put on a beautiful dress if I cannot go anywhere in it? That makes no sense. Surely even you must see that, my lord.”
Miles could have sworn he heard a snicker coming from Corin’s direction, but he ignored it. He moved closer to her. “You will put it on because I asked you to.” His eyes were burning into hers. “And then you will wait in my chamber, here, until I come for you.”
“What if I choose not to?”
“I do not recall saying that you had a choice. But I will tell you that if by some miracle you manage to break through the cordon of guards and leave this apartment again without my permission, I will personally find you, bring you back, and see to it that you are tied up in such a way that it will be impossible for you to get out again. I hesitate to take such steps now, but I will if I must. Do you understand?”
“Oh yes,” Clio said. “I am very good with short words.”
Miles ignored her. “I must make an appearance at this ball, but in two hours I will be back and we will dine together and discuss your behavior today.”
“I have nothing to discuss, my lord,” Clio said, tilting her head back to look at him defiantly.
He reached out and rested his fingers lightly under her chin. “That is good, because I plan on doing all the talking.” Then, as if to make his point early and often, he turned on his heel before she could respond and strode out the door.
Clio stood in the middle of the room staring at the place he had just vacated.
“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 correc
ted.
“—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.
“A search?”
“Yes. A search for evidence that he is the vampire.” Miles goggled at her. “You think Lord Mosley is the vampire?”
“No. I think nothing of the kind. That would prejudice my search. I am leaving my mind a blank until I have evidence one way or the other.” Clio examined him closely. “Are you all right, my lord. You look as though you have stopped breathing.”