One Bite Per Night (17 page)

Blinking back tears, she nodded stiffly. “I understand.”

Vincent cleared his throat, voice rasping. “I know this is difficult for you as well. If things were different…”

Fear and desperation nearly brought her to her knees. Lydia grasped Vincent's arm before he could turn away. “Please, don't leave me!”

For a moment she thought he'd pull back; then his strong arms enfolded her, momentarily shielding her from the horrors of the world. Closing her eyes, she savored his embrace.

“I am so sorry, Lydia, for everything that has happened.” His hands moved up to grasp her shoulders, and he forced her to look up at him. “Now, listen to me very carefully. It is of vital importance that you do everything the duke and duchess tell you. Promise me.”

The intensity of his gaze and the painful way his fingers dug into her flesh revealed the severity of the matter. There was something he wasn't telling her; she knew it.

“I promise,” she whispered shakily.

Vincent bent down until they were face-to-face. His eyes glowed like lightning, and his lips hovered inches from hers. A choking sound escaped him, and in a flash, he was gone.

Because of her, he was facing a death sentence. The weight of her remorse threatened to suffocate her. Lydia sank to her knees. “I've lost him.” The words emerged in a broken sob.

***

A single tear trailed down Vincent's cheek as he walked back to his town house. He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell Lydia that she might be put to death as well. Not when she had every reason to hate him for what he had done to her. Not when every cell of his being longed to fall to his knees and beg for her forgiveness. Not when, even now, he had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms and make love to her where she stood.

“
How
could
you?
” Her earlier words echoed in his mind.

Straightening his spine, he wiped his face and regained his composure. What was done was done. He had written his confession to the Elders, and Ian had already summoned a runner to dispatch it. All he could do was to await his fate and do his best to ensure Lydia's safety.

Just as expected, lanterns glowed from the windows of his town house, and Miss Hobson awaited him in the drawing room, hands twisting nervously in her lap.

“Where is Miss Price?” she asked sharply.

Vincent took a deep breath and forced a jubilant tone. “Miss Price shall stay at Burnrath House for the remainder of the Season, because it will not be proper to have my fiancée under my roof.”

The chaperone's eyes grew wide as saucers. “You proposed already? How wonderful!”

“Indeed,” Vincent said stiffly, struggling to hide his misery. “If you would be so kind as to have a notice printed in
The
Times
, I would be much obliged.”

Lydia had almost been his. Then cruel fate had snatched her from his grasp. Though he had a solid excuse to visit Burnrath House frequently to see her, to make sure she remained safe, it would be torture to pretend that his dreams were coming true.

“Will I be joining Miss Price at Burnrath House?” Miss Hobson pursed her lips as if sensing he wanted to refuse. “Things will appear out of sorts if I do not. And what shall we do about Sir Thomas Lawrence? He delivered her portrait shortly after you both stormed out of the house. Also, she has another lesson with him tomorrow. And we must plan an engagement ball, plan the wedding, have her dress and trousseau made, and—”

Vincent held back a curse. He hadn't considered any of these vexing details. The painter would be easy to handle, but Miss Hobson's presence would cause problems when Lydia's control was so tenuous. “I will decide what to do about Lawrence later. The duchess will be a sufficient chaperone for a few days while you plan the engagement ball and attend to all those other necessities. In the meantime, I'll meet with her suitors and reject their offers.”

The chaperone nodded. “An excellent plan, my lord. It will appear much better for Miss Price's reputation if her suitors are deterred first and it becomes known that she is not residing under your roof. Much more honorable, in fact.”

Turning away before she could see his pained grimace, Vincent headed for the door. “I must have a few of her things packed. The duchess's gowns will not fit Lydia well.”

Miss Hobson halted him. “I almost forgot to offer my felicitations, my lord.”

“Thank you.” Vincent suppressed a sigh. The woman couldn't possibly know she was rubbing salt in an already throbbing wound.

Her cheery tone was enough to drive him mad. “I had the portrait placed in your study, by the way.”

He strode out the door and closed it before she could say more. What were they going to do with Miss Hobson if the Elders summoned him to stand trial? He frowned as he headed up to his study. That would have to wait.

Vincent's breath caught as he beheld Lawrence's portrait of Lydia, already hung behind his desk. The painter had rendered her perfectly. A lump formed in his throat as he gazed upon the gleaming black tresses and sparkling tawny eyes that appeared to reflect the sunlight in the parlor. His eyes traced the line of her jaw, the curve of her lips, the flush of youthful mortality in her unblemished skin. God, he loved her.

What would happen to her if he was executed? He had no doubt that Ian and Angelica would look after her, but for how long would she be comfortable with such an arrangement? Lydia despised city life as much as he did.

He would draw up a will and leave her Castle Deveril. Remembering Lydia's love for the ancient fortress, he felt it only right that it should go to her. Perhaps it could serve as an apology as well as a declaration of his love for her.

A measure of the crushing weight of despair lifted at the decision. He would meet with a solicitor tomorrow evening, right before he attended to the welcome task of rejecting Lydia's suitors. A slow smile crept to his lips as he left the room to collect Lydia's trunks. Oh, he would enjoy that chore very much indeed.

Lydia bit down on her finger with practiced efficiency, wincing at the pain as she trailed her blood across her victim's wound.

“Very good,” Angelica commented behind her. “I can't believe how neatly you made the puncture sites. It took me over a month to do it right. They heal so much more quickly that way. Now wake him up.”

Lydia broke her hold on the man's mind. She could hear an audible snap in her skull.

Her victim blinked once and continued speaking as if nothing happened. “If ye take that road and turn left after the Hog's Head, that'll take ye straight to Great Pulteney Street.”

“Thank you, sir.” Lydia favored the man with a curtsy, struggling with guilt for using a stranger for a meal.

The man tipped his hat and went on his way, displaying no ill effects from losing a pint or two of blood.

Rafael Villar stepped out of the shadows, his ink-black hair shrouding him like a sinister shadow. Approval gleamed in his amber eyes. “You have mastered the hunt quickly, youngling.”

Lydia's jaw dropped. Taking a shaky breath, she gave him a friendly smile. “Thank you, Mr. Villar, you flatter me.”

His angular lips curled into a sneer. Immediately, she knew she'd said the wrong thing.

“I never speak to
flatter
,” Rafe nearly spat the word. “I speak only the truth.”

This seemed to be higher praise. Friendliness seemed to repel him, so Lydia straightened her spine and inclined her head with cool regality.

The gesture seemed to satisfy him, for he nodded in return. “It is time we return.”

The moment he turned away, Angelica gave her a wink. “
I
think
he
likes
you
,” she mouthed so the other vampire could not hear.

Likes
me?
Lydia fought back an inelegant snort. For the past few nights, the Spaniard had been observing her progress and Angelica's teaching methods, because Ian decided it would be good to have an unbiased witness to provide testimony to the Elders if they decided to put Vincent on trial. Rafael seemed to despise everyone, so perhaps in a way he was unbiased. Either way, his critical gaze on every move she made compelled her to excel at her training, if only to spite him.

As Burnrath House came into view, her heart once more became heavy. The nightly hunts and training did much to distract her from Vincent's impending verdict from the Elders…and his distant manner.

To add salt to the wound, Miss Hobson had arrived only yesterday evening, with Emma in tow, practically glowing with giddy cheer. “Lord Deveril told me of your engagement. I am so pleased that you managed to land the biggest catch of the Season!”

Lydia forced a pained smile as the chaperone prattled on about wedding plans.

It had been agony to feign girlish enthusiasm in the face of the dreadful truth. A wedding was highly unlikely, even if Vincent had wanted to marry her. He could be dead in a matter of weeks. And if the Elders were merciful and allowed him to live, they might not allow her to return to Cornwall with him. She was a London vampire from the moment Vincent put her in Angelica's hands. Rafe had made that clear.

That also meant that once Rafe took over as Lord of London, he would be Lydia's master. Though he had been fair in his observations of her training, she couldn't help quavering in terror at the thought of being under the rule of such an ill-tempered man.

With leaden steps, she followed the Spaniard and the duchess into the house. Only days ago Lydia would have been ecstatic at the prospect of planning her wedding to Vincent. Now she felt only an echoing chord of dread intermingled with guilt at trapping the man she loved.

The butler took their coats and turned to Angelica with a cough. “A Miss Sally and Miss Maria Sidwell are here. They claim to have an appointment for a dress fitting for Miss Price, though I was uninformed of the fact. I placed them in the parlor.”

Angelica and Rafe exchanged a pointed look. He scowled, and she shook her head. “Thank you, Burke. Come along, Lydia.”

“Deveril will hear of this appointment,” Rafe grumbled and stalked up the stairs to Ian's study.

Puzzled, Lydia followed Angelica. What were her dressmakers doing here? She didn't have a dress fitting scheduled until Wednesday.

Once they entered the parlor, everything became clear. The seamstresses grinned at her, revealing their fangs.

“Oh, my God,” Lydia gasped. “That is why you only did my fittings at night. Is everyone around me a vampire?”

Maria nodded. “Yes, and when we heard that Lord Deveril Changed you, we had to come right away and see how you are faring.”

“We read the engagement announcement in
The
Times
as well,” Sally added. “We are so happy for you! Deveril is a good Lord Vampire. We'll have to make you a wedding gown worthy of him.”

“Thank you.” Lydia's stomach churned in despair, more from their felicitations than from anyone else's. They had been with her almost since she arrived in Cornwall and had been the first to learn of her infatuation with Vincent. Which made the fact that he was marrying her against his will all the more agonizing.

Maria seemed to sense her reluctance and changed the subject. “How are you enduring the Change? I imagine with Deveril's blood in your veins you are quite powerful. How long can you keep a mortal under your spell?”

Lydia frowned, suspecting the question was more important than it seemed. “I'm not certain. I've held them only long enough to take sustenance. Angelica, I mean, Her Grace, is much better at that sort of thing. She used the trick on Miss Hobson and my cousin to brilliant advantage.”

The sisters scrutinized her intently before exchanging glances.

“Then we must beg a favor of Her Grace,” Maria declared, sinking into a respectful curtsy.

Angelica eyed them curiously. “What would that be?”

“We want to see our mother.”

“I see.”

Sally approached the duchess, lower lip trembling. “Please, Your Grace, we haven't seen her since your husband sent us away from London, and now that she's retired from the stage, who knows how much time she has left?”

“Did you consider that I could be in trouble with my husband if I agreed?”

“Yes, but from what we understand, you are not averse to trouble.”

Angelica regarded them with an impish smile. “Yes, that is true. And I would so much like to meet the renowned Sarah Siddons.”

Sarah
Siddons…Sally and Maria Siddons…
Lydia burst into laughter. There had been something to her suspicions after all. “
Sidwell?
Good heavens, Vincent could have come up with something better. No wonder you were so interested in Sir Thomas Lawrence.”

Angelica chuckled. “So you've deduced who they really are.”

“Yes, and this explains the painting of Sally at the Royal Academy.” She turned to Sally. “Tell me, what happened between you and Sir Thomas? Vincent said the tale was not fit for a young lady's ears.”

Maria nodded. “Deveril was correct on that account. Thomas, the cad, wooed my sister, then took advantage of my naïveté and betrayed her to court me, even going so far as to gain our father's permission for my hand in marriage. Then, the moment I became ill with consumption, he forsook me and tried to regain Sally's affections.”

“Bloody hell, that's terrible!” Angelica gasped.

Sally spoke up. “He tormented our poor, dear mother, and harassed her friends in a futile attempt to win my heart, even going so far as to threaten suicide if she did not relent and allow him to see me.” Her eyes welled with unshed tears. “He was a complete madman. His insane behavior only worsened Maria's suffering, when all I wanted was to nurse my sister back to health.” Her words broke off with a choked, pained sound. “All we ever wanted was to be together. Our mother, Lawrence, and our own poor health seemed determined to keep us apart.”

Lydia shook her head. “How could he do such a terrible thing? And with Maria so ill?”

Maria picked up the tale. “Things became even worse. When I was ill, I had time to think, and realized that Lawrence had broken my sister's heart when he abandoned her to court me. Even worse, when he defected to Sally, his behavior fractured our family, damaged our reputations, and caused unbearable torment to our mother.” She took a shuddering breath. “When I realized I was dying, I prayed for justice. My prayers were answered when I met a vampire in the garden one night. He'd been watching me and Sally for years. He loved my singing and the songs Sally composed on her pianoforte. When I was dying, he offered me eternal life. I took it, and while feigning death, made Sally promise not to marry Lawrence. It took three years before I was able to find another vampire to Change her.”

Sally took Maria's hand. “So we could be together, always. It was the happiest moment of my life when I discovered that my dear sister was not dead.”

“Why couldn't
you
Change her?” Lydia asked Maria.

“It takes about a century for a vampire to build the power to do so,” Angelica explained. “And another century to recover.”

Lydia's chest tightened. “Do you mean that Vincent squandered a hundred years' worth of power to save my life?”
How
he
must
loathe
me.

“I wouldn't say ‘squandered,' but yes.” Turning back to the sisters, Angelica asked, “Who Changed you, and why were you sent away from London? My husband never told me.”

Maria flushed. “We were both Changed by rogues. The Lord of London caught us when we were trying to exact vengeance on Lawrence. He arrested us and executed John. Philip escaped.”

“We didn't know it was illegal!” Sally added quickly.

Angelica paled. “I had no idea my husband executed someone.”

“He was only doing his duty. You cannot blame him for that,” Maria said gently. “Besides, he was merciful enough to allow us to live, and sent us to Cornwall.”

“W-will Ian have to execute Vincent for Changing me?” Lydia asked through numb lips.

Angelica shook her head briskly. “No, as Vincent is a Lord Vampire and not a rogue, that responsibility would fall to the Elders.” She placed a reassuring hand on Lydia's shoulder and turned to the Siddons sisters. “Enough of this dreary talk. I will take you to see your mother soon. However, you must promise to stay away from Lawrence. If you approach him, I cannot protect you from the wrath of either my husband or the Lord of Cornwall.”

Sally and Maria inclined their heads in agreement. “We promise.”

Lydia only half listened as the vampires made plans to visit Sarah Siddons. After hearing Sally's and Maria's stories, the possibility of Vincent being executed for Changing her was more plausible.

“I'm afraid you must depart now,” Angelica told the dressmakers abruptly. “Miss Hobson has returned, and Lawrence will be here soon for Lydia's painting lesson. We cannot have your presence raise unnecessary questions.”

“May we at least catch a glimpse of him?” Maria implored sweetly, though steel glinted in her gaze.

The duchess looked as if she were about to refuse, but then she nodded. “Very well. However, I shall remain with you the entire time.”

Lydia realized Angelica agreed only to ensure the pair would not disobey and seek out the man on their own. “I must mix my paints.”

Ian had transformed an upstairs chamber into a painting studio for her, with four large gas lamps to brighten the room. Lydia had her palette prepared and Miss Hobson settled into her chair in the corner just as Lawrence arrived.

Lydia regarded the man whom she had once worshipped. How could he have treated so many ladies so poorly? She knew she should despise him, yet he was still the finest painter she'd ever known, and she couldn't stop respecting his work.

Vincent had convinced Lawrence to resume her lessons during the evenings, which Rafe declared was a good exercise in control. He had been correct. The first two nights, her fangs chafed her gums as she resisted the urge to bite the poor man.

Now that she knew of his abominable treatment of the Siddons sisters, the urge returned, stronger than before.

As if somehow sensing the danger he was in, Lawrence was solicitous and praising of her progress. “I cannot believe how quickly your skills have improved,” he told her as he peered at her nearly finished portrait of Vincent. “Truly, you do not need to study at the Academy, for you have already surpassed most of the students.”

His sugary tone slew her patience. What false flattery had he used on Sally and Maria?

“I am not going to be admitted, am I?” Not that she could anymore, with the necessity of her nocturnal schedule.

He blinked, startled at her bluntness. “It grieves my soul to tell you that I spoke with the officials, and they declined your worthy petition to join our school.” Patting her hand, he gave her an indulgent smile. “It is all for the best, as you will be far too occupied with your upcoming nuptials.”

“Lord Deveril would allow me to go to school if that is what I desire.” Lydia suddenly realized the truth of her words. Vincent had denied her nothing, except his heart.

Oblivious to her revelation, Lawrence nodded placidly. “Then he is a good man. In that sentiment, I can offer you a compromise. Though you cannot join the Academy, you may be able to have some of your paintings featured in the Royal Exhibition.”

The breath whooshed from her body. The Royal Exhibition? Surely she hadn't heard him correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

Lawrence grinned. “I said that I could have your work featured in the Royal Exhibition.”

“I would be honored!” This was nearly better than joining the Academy, for only a select few students garnered this opportunity.