by Brooklyn Ann
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.
“There is, however, one condition.”
Of course there was. She concealed her disappointment. “And what would that be?”
“Due to the time I’ve spent on your portrait and your lessons, I’m afraid I’ve fallen behind on a few of my own commissions for my patrons, as well as for the Exhibition. As president of the Academy, it simply would not do for me to have nothing to show for this sacred event.”
Lydia couldn’t hide her suspicion. “What does that have to do with me?”
Lawrence gave her a sheepish look. “From time to time I allow my students to apply the finishing touches on my works. Given your astounding skill and speed, perhaps you could finish, say…five of my paintings?”
“Three.” Her spite at his treatment of the Siddons sisters and her denial of studying at the Academy compelled her to be merciless.
“A shrewd bargain. Very well, three. I shall bring what I have tomorrow evening.”
After he left, Lydia slumped in a chair, dazed. Laughter bubbled from her lips.
Miss Hobson raised a brow. “Are you quite all right, Miss Price?”
“He doesn’t even finish his own paintings!” The shock and scorn for yet another transgression her hero had committed warred with elation at the prospect of taking part in creating another Lawrence portrait.
The chaperone smirked. “Yes, well he is a very busy man. Still, that seems less than honest to me.”
“At least I will be able to participate in the Royal Exhibition.” Joy at grasping one of her deepest dreams surpassed her disillusionme
nt with her idol.
Lydia couldn’t wait to tell Vincent about it. Her chest ached as she thought of the easy camaraderie they had known in Cornwall. Although he visited the house every night without fail to assess her progress, emotionally, he seemed farther away than ever.
Twenty-six
Vincent folded his arms tightly against his evening coat as he walked to Burnrath House, chilled despite the warm spring evening. The envelope containing the missive from the Elders felt like a lead weight in his pocket. What crime had he committed to have the fates cause everything to go so terribly wrong? He’d had Lydia’s affection; he’d been certain of it. Perhaps she would have become a vampire willingly, pleased to spend an eternity at his side.
Eternity. The concept had been his downfall. After centuries of existence, Vincent had been confident that he had sufficient time to court Lydia and offer her his heart and immortality. Not for a moment had he considered that she did not have the same luxury, that death could snatch her from his arms at a whim.
Due to his foolish arrogance, her mortality, as well as his, had crashed down upon them both in one sound blow. The irony was thick enough to choke on. Lydia now had the possibility of centuries, while he likely had mere weeks to live.
Burke greeted him with a bow and took his hat and coat. “His Grace is expecting you in the study, my lord, along with Mr. Adair.”
Vincent felt a small measure of comfort that his summons had been responded to so quickly. “Thank you, Burke.”
Ian awaited him in the study, along with Rafe and Emrys. Vincent’s second regarded him sympathetically.
“Emrys, thank you for arriving on such short notice.” Vincent clapped his second in command on the shoulder. “How fare the blood drinkers of Cornwall?”
His second bowed. “They are all safe and in good health, my lord.” He frowned. “Though all of us are dismayed to hear of your predicament.”
Vincent straightened his spine. “I did what I felt was necessary.”
“I would not expect otherwise, my lord.” Emrys nodded in understanding tinged with regret. “Which is why I came as soon as I could. A representative from the Elders has written me. She will be coming to Cornwall in a few weeks to question us on your character and leadership.”
Ian snorted behind them. “Well, that is certainly thorough of them.”
Emrys inclined his head respectfully toward the Lord of London before turning back to Vincent. “I wanted to assure you that your people stand behind you, and if there is a trial, I am willing to follow you to Amsterdam myself to testify on your behalf.”
Rafe chuckled and lit a cigar. “So no insurrections are being planned in Cornwall, then?”
Emrys glared at the Spaniard. “We are loyal to our Lord.”
As the seconds continued to stare each other down, Vincent shook his head. Why did the Spaniard insist on being so damn difficult? He turned back to his second. “I need you to remain in Cornwall and watch over my people until this ordeal is over.”
Emrys nodded. Rafe smoked his cigar in silence.
Vincent took a deep breath, fixing his second with an intent gaze before asking the dreaded but necessary question. “Emrys, if I am put to death, are you willing to take my place as Lord of Cornwall?”
Ever formal, Emrys dropped to one knee as if accepting a knighthood. “I am, and I vow to strive to look after our people as well as you have.”
“I shall express my recommendation to the Elders when they make their decision.” Vincent paused at the sound of footsteps and hushed feminine voices approaching.
The scent of gardenias teased his senses when the study door opened to reveal Lydia and Angelica. Both were dressed in male attire, and Vincent sucked in a breath at the agonizing temptation of the sight of Lydia’s curved hips and long legs. What mischief had they been up to?
“What is going on here?” the duchess asked, practically quivering with curiosity.
Ian regarded his wife solemnly. “We are meeting with Vincent’s second in command, Emrys Adair.”
Emrys bowed once more. “Your Grace.” He then turned his attention to Lydia, his eyes filled with admiration.
“Lord Deveril’s unsanctioned fledgling, Miss Lydia Price,” Rafe supplied, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
“Miss Price.” Emrys took Lydia’s hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles as Vincent fought the urge to kill him. “It is an honor.”
Rafe blew a smoke ring and looked on Vincent’s ire with amusement.
“We were just finishing.” Ian eyed Angelica sternly. “We will join you ladies shortly.”
Rafe and Vincent tensed and exchanged glances. Ian’s wife did not respond well to commands.
Angelica inclined her head in assent, though the glint in her dark eyes radiated impatience and curiosity. “Very well, we shall see you in the drawing room anon. Come, Lydia.”
When the females left, Emrys turned wide eyes to Vincent. “Good heavens, she is exquisite! Once the Elders set eyes upon your fledgling, surely they will understand and show mercy.”
Rafe snorted. “If comeliness were justification for violating the law, the world would be overrun with vampires.” He added, “On a more practical note, Miss Price has adapted to her new life with astonishing speed and courage. This could prove beneficial to Lord Deveril’s case.”
Vincent searched the Spaniard’s face for a hint of sarcasm and found none. It seemed Lydia had earned Rafe’s respect…and perhaps Vincent had as well.
Ian cleared his throat. “Shall we adjourn this meeting?”
Rafe and Vincent nodded.
“I should be getting back to Cornwall.” Emrys squared his shoulders and gave Vincent a sympathetic gaze. “I will pray that all goes well for you, my lord.”
Vincent closed his eyes. “If God even listens to the prayers of monsters.”
***
With identical expressions of solemn dread on their faces, Ian and Vincent joined Lydia and Angelica in the drawing room.
“I received a letter from the Elders,” Vincent announced without preamble. His voice was empty and as soulless as a death knell.
“What did they say?” Lydia’s knees quaked. How she longed to seek solace in his arms.
He closed his eyes, but not before she glimpsed an answering flicker of fear in his gaze. “I am to be investigated. One of the Elders will arrive on the third of May to question me and observe you.”
“But, that’s so soon!” she protested. Less than a month before the man I love could be dead. It wasn’t fair.
Vincent continued as if he did not hear her. “I am to prepare my testimony and gather any witnesses willing to testify in my defense.”
“That would be everyone in this room.” Ian’s brows drew together in sympathy. “I am afraid your reclusive ways have not done you good in this case.”
Rafael fixed Lydia with an intent stare. “They will also evaluate you, youngling. So you had best impress them with your adaptation to our ways, or else—”
Vincent slammed his fist on the mahogany table. The sound echoed like a gunshot. “We will discuss that later. It is time for us to prepare for the Wentworth ball.”
“A ball?” Lydia choked out. “How can we consider going to a party at a time like this?” All she wanted to do was take Vincent’s hand and flee.
Angelica spoke at last. “We cannot handle problems with Society, in addition to this situation. If you don’t appear before them triumphant and acknowledge the felicitations for your engagement, people will speculate the worst. And if scandal is attached to your name, the Elders will learn of it, and that will not bode well for Vincent’s case.”
“Damn it,” Lydia muttered. If she hadn’t before had a reason to loathe being a debutante, she now possessed them in abundance.
The duchess screwed her face into a mock expression of pious disa
pproval. “A lady does not use such language,” she said in an eerie imitation of Miss Hobson.
“Double damn it!”
Soft laughter echoed around her, lessening the pall hanging over the room. Lydia swore Rafe even cracked a smile.
“Speaking of Miss Hobson, you had better wake her up, along with Emma,” Angelica told her husband before taking Lydia’s hand to lead her up to the bedchamber.
Lydia glanced over her shoulder at Vincent. He had turned away once more. Rafe’s amber gaze glittered enigmatically, and she jerked her face away.
Miss Hobson met them in the hallway, failing to stifle a yawn. “For heaven’s sake, the odd hours of this house are enough to do me in. Either that, or it is the confounded lack of windows on this floor.”
Angelica ignored the jibe. “We must dress for the Wentworth ball. It is guaranteed to be a crush.” She gave the chaperone a wry grin. “It was at one of Jane’s balls last year where I met my husband, you know.”
“Ah yes, we had best get Miss Price looking her very best,” Miss Hobson replied briskly. “Come, Lydia.”
Lydia followed the chaperone to her room, where Emma waited with a beaded lavender satin ball gown that the Siddons sisters had recently finished.
The maid favored her with a saucy grin. “The Devil Earl will be pleased to see you in this creation.”
Lydia looked down before Emma could see her pain. If only a pretty ensemble was enough to win his love. As the maid helped her dress, Lydia remembered the scarlet gown she’d worn to seduce Vincent. She was tempted to try the scheme once more. Her body ached for his touch, and her heart wanted more.
An hour later, she met the others downstairs. Angelica was resplendent in a low-cut gown of sapphire watered silk. A diamond necklace sparkled at her throat. Ian appeared every inch the duke in his black evening clothes…yet Vincent held her full attention.
His midnight-blue jacket and breeches brought out the color of his turbulent eyes, and the silver embroidered waistcoat complemented the gleaming strands of his hair. His cravat was meticulously knotted, and his hair was impeccably pulled back in a queue, highlighting his sharp cheekbones. Despite the fine picture, Lydia preferred him bare-throated, with his long hair free and rakish, the way she had sketched him so often in Cornwall. From the agitated tapping of his polished Hessians, Vincent appeared to resent the confining attire as well.