Vampire, Interrupted (8 page)

The moment she set it on the table, the maitre d’ was at her side.

“Just tea, please,” she murmured, managing a smile.

Julius ordered coffee, then asked for a plate of sandwiches, and she couldn’t hide her surprise.

“You eat?”

“It’s a recent habit I’ve picked up again,” he said calmly, and then asked, “You?”

Marguerite shook her head at once and assured herself she wasn’t lying. The sausage she’d pinched that morning was an aberration, she was sure. An uncomfortable moment of silence passed. She tried to think of something to talk about to fill it, but the only thing that came to mind was the case she was working on. That made her pause and raise her eyes back to him again. Julius was peering around the restaurant, so Marguerite wasted another few moments trying to read his mind, but again came up against a blank wall.

Sighing unhappily, she turned her own attention to the restaurant décor as well.

“Jean Claude Argeneau was your husband and lifemate.”

Marguerite turned back, eyeing him uncertainly. It hadn’t exactly been phrased as a question, but she treated it as such and answered, “No.”

“No?” Julius frowned. “‘No’ what? You
are
Jean Claude Argeneau’s widow.”

“Yes, I am,” she admitted. “But we were not lifemates. Just husband and wife.”

Julius sat back in his seat, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he said cautiously, “I have never heard of two immortals who were not lifemates marrying and living together…happily.”

“Neither have I,” she assured him.

“It was an unhappy union, then?” he asked quietly.

Marguerite glanced away, her dissatisfied gaze slid
ing over the other patrons. She normally disliked talking about Jean Claude, her marriage, or anything having to do with the last seven hundred years of her life if it wasn’t her children, but she found words she’d never said bubbling to her lips and trying to slip out. Keeping them in was actually causing a painful knot at the base of her throat. Finally, she blurted, “It was seven hundred years of hell.”

Marguerite hesitated a moment and then finally glanced back to see how he was taking this revelation. His expression was unreadable. Mouth twisting wryly, she said, “You do not look surprised.”

Julius shrugged. “As I said, I have never heard of two non-lifemates living together happily.”

Marguerite nodded and glanced away from him again and then had a thought and glanced back. “Were you and Christian’s mother lifemates?”

“Yes,” he said solemnly.

“Oh.” For some reason she found that news depressing, but forced her own feelings aside and said, “I realize it’s very painful to lose a lifemate, and that it’s probably difficult for you to talk about her, but Christian does have the right to know—”

“You’ve had a lifemate, then?”

Marguerite blinked at the interruption, thrown off her stride. Frowning, she admitted, “Well, no, but—”

“Never in seven hundred years?” he pressed.

Mouth tightening, she glanced away, muttering, “I fear, my life while married was rather…restricted.”

A moment of silence passed and then he said, “You were born in England.”

She glanced back with surprise. “Yes. I was born to a maid in a castle that was not far from London, actually.”

“Was?” he asked with interest.

Marguerite shrugged. “It’s gone now. Just rubble I should imagine.”

“And is that where Jean Claude met you?”

She scowled. “I would really rather not talk about my life with Jean Claude. In fact, I do not wish to talk about myself at all. I am here in England to find your son’s mother. You could help with that.”

“I’m afraid I can’t, actually. I suggest we agree not to talk about either subject. I will refrain from bringing up your husband, if you resist asking me about Christian’s mother.”

Marguerite was saved from having to respond by the arrival of a waiter. She found her gaze sliding over the plate of food with unaccustomed interest as he set it on the table. The small sandwiches looked and smelled delicious…and she didn’t even eat. Though, she probably should, Marguerite thought suddenly. It would help her to build up her own blood until she was able to contact Bastien and ask him to forward the cooler of supplies on to her at Claridge’s.

“Would you like one?” Julius asked, lifting the plate and holding it out to her as the waiter set his coffee on the table.

Marguerite raised a hand, about to reach for one of the sandwiches, but froze when she noticed the way he was watching her. Something about the expectant gleam in his eyes made her lower her hand and sit back in her seat.

“I do not eat,” she repeated her earlier words. The
sausage really didn’t count. Normally, she didn’t eat. In fact, she couldn’t recall the last time she had before the stolen sausage that morning. But then she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been without blood for this long either and suspected her hunger was getting confused.

Marguerite watched silently as he picked up one of the sandwiches and took a bite. Her mouth immediately began to water, and she thought perhaps she’d call down to room service when she got to her room and order something small…a sandwich maybe, to tide her over until the blood arrived.

“They’re really quite good,” Julius said. “You should try one.”

“I—No, I really do not eat,” Marguerite said stubbornly.

“We have lovely teacakes, if you’d rather something sweet,” the waiter said as he set a small teapot and cup before her.

“No, thank you,” Marguerite murmured.

Nodding, the waiter turned to leave, but paused as he found himself facing a newly arrived Dante and Tommaso. Marguerite had to bite her lip as the waiter’s eyes widened on the pair. Truly, the twins were an awesome sight. Side by side they were a wall of black leather and threat, without even trying.

“Er…” the waiter said, his eyes shifting frantically from the pair to the table.

“They are with us,” Marguerite assured him, taking pity on the man.

Nodding, he moved swiftly to the side to make way for them, and then nervously backed away.

Marguerite shook her head as she watched him go,
and then turned an affectionate smile on the twins. She’d got to know them well in California when they were all staying at her nephew’s home and had been glad to see them when they’d met with Christian at the Dorchester and found they’d accompanied him. The pair looked frightful, but really they were sweethearts. They were still quite young, barely over a hundred years old, and still ate…a lot. The only person she knew who came close to being able to put away as much as these two were Tiny and her own son Lucern.

“Where are the others?” Julius asked.

“There’s a pub on the other side and they’re waiting for us there,” Tommaso answered, eyeing Julius’s sandwiches.

“Tiny warned us that The Foyer was fancy dress,” Dante added as Julius noted the hungry looks both men were giving his food and lifted the plate to offer it to them. Both twins took a small sandwich each as Dante added, “We just came to report in.”

Julius nodded. As he set the plate back on the table, he asked, “You managed to lose your tail?”

Tommaso nodded as Dante stuck his sandwich in his mouth to free his hands. He pulled a small notepad from his pocket and tore off a page. He then held it out and took the sandwich out of his mouth with his other hand, saying, “This is their license plate number. I think it was a rental, but you might be able to find out who rented it.”

Nodding, Julius accepted the slip of paper and slid it into his suit pocket, making Marguerite frown. She and Tiny were the private detectives. Holding out her hand, she said, “I’ll look into that if you give it to me.”

Julius shook his head. “I have it. You already have a job.”

Marguerite narrowed her eyes. He didn’t sound the least angry as he mentioned the case to find his son’s mother. Considering how long he’d kept the secret and the fact that he’d come here to try to convince them to head home, he was being rather pleasant. It just made her suspicious.

“These are good,” Tommaso commented.

Marguerite glanced his way in time to see him pop the last of his sandwich into his mouth. Her gaze then moved back to the plate, noting that there was only one left. She forced herself to look away from the temptation.

“Christian said to give you two these,” Dante said and handed a card key to Marguerite and another to Julius, listing off the room numbers as he did.

“We already delivered the luggage to the rooms,” Tommaso added, accepting the last sandwich when Julius held out the plate.

Marguerite watched enviously as he consumed half of it in one bite, and then couldn’t stand it any longer and stood up.

“I would like to go to my room.”

“Of course,” Julius said, getting smoothly to his feet. “I shall see you up.”

“No, no,” Marguerite waved him off, eager to get to her room now. “I know the room number. I can find it. You go ahead and join the boys in the pub. I’m sure Dante and Tommaso have more to report.”

She turned, then, to walk away, but paused when he said, “We’re sharing a suite.”

Turning back, she raised an eyebrow.

“I arranged for two suites next to each other,” he explained. “I thought the boys could take the two bedrooms of one suite, and Marcus and I will share one bedroom in the second suite, while you take the other.”

Julius looked as if he expected her to be upset by this news, but she wasn’t. The fact was she had her own room, and she
was
the only one with her own room. And she really wanted to get up there and order something to eat.

“Fine,” she said quickly and glanced to Tommaso and Dante. “I’d like an hour to unpack and rest a bit, but could you ask Tiny and Christian to meet me after that so we can discuss matters?”

She waited for both men to nod, and then left the table to find her room.

Five

Marguerite let herself into the room using the key
Julius had given her, and then paused inside the door to peer around. She’d entered the suite through the door leading into the actual bedroom she would be using, but there were two open doors leading off of it. One led into the en suite bathroom, the other led into the sitting room between the bedroom she occupied and the one Marcus and Julius were to share. It was nice, but all art deco and she’d actually preferred the décor in the Dorchester.

Closing the door between her room and the sitting room, she picked up the book listing the hotel’s available facilities and leafed through until she found the room service menu. She scanned it briefly, then moved to the phone and quickly punched the button for room service. Her gaze slid around the room as
she waited, and Marguerite wasn’t at all surprised to find her luggage there. Dante and Tommaso had seen to it as efficiently as expected, no doubt leaving it at the desk when they’d arrived, to be delivered to all of their rooms while they went to the restaurant.

Marguerite straightened as her call was answered and placed her order, requesting that it come directly to her door, not the sitting room door, then hung up and stood to walk to the window. Tugging the curtains open, she peered out on the city at night, noting that while her room had a balcony, they weren’t on the top floor. She suspected Julius had arranged it that way to increase safety, bypassing the penthouses on the top floor for superior suites on the fourth floor, halfway up the hotel, overlooking Brooks Mews. The man was obviously used to handling matters and was good with details…like her son Bastien.

The thought made her turn and move to the phone again. She had to call him and have the blood forwarded to her new hotel. She also wanted to check on her daughter. Lissianna was in the last weeks of her first pregnancy. She could go into labor at any time and Marguerite was almost as excited and nervous for her daughter as Lissianna no doubt was herself.

Before leaving for England, Marguerite had made each of her sons, nieces, and nephews promise to contact her the moment her daughter went into labor. If that happened before she finished this case, Marguerite would drop everything and fly home at once. Christian had waited five hundred years to find his mother and surely wouldn’t mind a delay of a week or so if necessary. She hoped. It was a shame if he did
mind because nothing was going to keep her from her daughter’s side in her time of need.

The phone had barely begun to ring when Marguerite noticed the digital clock on the bedside table and saw the time. It wasn’t even nine o’clock at night yet here in England, which meant it wasn’t even four o’clock in the afternoon back home. Bastien would still be in bed, she realized, and quickly hung up, hoping that the half ring hadn’t roused him. She’d just have to wait another couple of hours and then try again, Marguerite thought with a little sigh, but then wondered if she couldn’t call the UK office of Argeneau Enterprises herself to arrange for the blood to be brought here. Bastien had given her a contact number for the UK offices just in case something like this arose.

The number was in her address book in her purse. She just had to—

Marguerite’s thoughts died abruptly when a knock sounded at the door. Standing, she crossed to the door and pulled it open, a smile curving her lips at the sight of the attendant with the food trolley standing outside her door.

There were three shiny silver covers on her trolley. One hid a bowl of pea and mint soup, another covered a plate holding salad and a steak cooked rare, the third protected an English trifle. Admittedly, it was more than a light snack, but Marguerite hadn’t been able to make up her mind about what she wanted. Besides, she didn’t plan to eat it all, she assured herself. Just a little of this, a little of that…

Half an hour later Marguerite had pretty much laid
waste to the food and was just finishing off the luscious trifle when someone knocked at her door. Stiffening, she glanced guiltily at the table of food, then set down her trifle and moved warily to answer the door. She relaxed a little when she saw it was Tiny and stepped back, pulling the door wide for him to enter.