Max had been focused on Vioget; now he turned to look at her, then toward the entrance, where she was still watching in shock. She felt her nails bite into his warm skin.
The marquess was standing just at the bottom of the staircase. He appeared to be holding a pistol at his side. And he had drawn the attention of more than one of the Silver Chalice's occupants.
How could this be? She had to get him out of here… but she couldn't let him see her! Victoria dragged the hood of her cloak up over her hair and shifted back into the shadows, realizing that she was going to have to ask Max for help. Her fingers were icy. She felt ill. How had he come here? How could it be?
"Someone you know?" asked Sebastian lightly in his French accent. He was watching them closely, as if feeling his disconnection from the two of them. "I do hope he is not planning to cause trouble."
"Miss Grantworth's fiance," Victoria dimly heard Max explain as her brain fumbled for a solution. "She must leave before he sees her."
Thank goodness he understood. And he was right—she had to leave before he saw her! The shock began to wane, replaced by focus and determination.
Sebastian looked at Victoria in surprise. "Sneaking around on your betrothed? Tsk, tsk, my dear Miss Grantworth." Lifting his eyes, he caught Max's. "I will show her another way out, so she'll not be seen." Apparently Sebastian understood too.
Max appeared ready to argue, but Victoria took his arm again, looking at him from under the hood of her cloak. "Max, you must see to him. Please. Make certain he gets out of here, and home safely. He doesn't belong here."
Sebastian stood, pulling Victoria to her feet without waiting for Max's agreement. "Come with me, Miss Grantworth," he murmured, closing his fingers firmly around her arm.
Victoria sent Max one last pleading look—much as she hated the fact that she had to ask for his help—and allowed Sebastian to lead her two paces from their table and through the door to the hidden hallway.
Max would make sure Phillip was safe.
Max watched Vioget whisk Victoria from the main room. Damnation. What the hell did Rockley think he was doing?
It didn't matter how or why… now the only concern was getting the fop out of here before the vampires decided to take offense at the pistol he was holding.
During their murmured conversation, Rockley had only scanned the room and taken three uncertain steps farther into the pub. If he'd seen Victoria, it had been only as a shadowed figure.
"Rockley," Max said as he approached the man, who still stood at the entrance, looking around and gathering the attention of every undead in the room. Fresh blood was always better than the kegged stuff Vioget kept in the back. "May I offer some advice? Put the weapon away. You won't need it here."
The fop looked at him, and Max was gratified to see that there was no fear in his eyes, nor was there the jumpiness that often accompanied men who waved pistols around in the form of courage. His look was not only steady, but unsurprised at seeing a face that he recognized.
"It was necessary to get from my coach to the door to this place," Rockley replied, tucking the pistol into his pocket. "And I'll use it if I need to in order to find Victoria and get her to safety."
Here was where Max had to show his skill as an actor—better, he thought snidely, than Victoria and Vioget had done earlier with their demonstration of a first meeting. "Victoria? What in the bloody hell are you talking about, Rockley?"
"She's here somewhere. I followed her, and I cannot imagine what she is doing here! In a place like this." Even as he spoke, his sharp eyes darted around the room again, as if to assure himself she hadn't reappeared. "What are you doing here?"
"I haven't seen Victoria," Max said unequivocally. "I've been in this seat for well over an hour, and if she were anywhere around, I would have seen her. I won't even ask the question why you think she would come to a place like this, in the middle of the night. You must have some reason for thinking so, ridiculous as it is."
"I followed her from her house. I saw her get out of a hired hackney, for God's sake. A hackney! Your cousin got out of the hackney and came down here."
That was right; he couldn't forget that Victoria had told him they were cousins. "How long ago was this?" asked Max, knowing that there had been a lapse of time between his arrival and Rockley's; and Victoria had already been here when he came back into the Chalice after a quick patrol through the neighborhood. Max had been waiting for her since eleven o'clock.
"Some little bit of time," he replied. "I fell into an altercation when I first came out of my carriage, and had to persuade a few gentlemen that I was coming down here, either with their permission or without."
That explained the pistol.
"As I have said, Rockley, she is not here. Indeed, if I had seen my cousin come into an establishment such as this, I would have escorted her home immediately. This is no place for a woman, nor for most men either."
"I followed her from her house," Rockley said stubbornly. "She said she was feeling ill, so I brought her home after the theater. But she left her wrap in my carriage, and I came back to return it and saw her come out the front entrance and climb into a hackney."
"You must be mistaken. It must have been her maid you saw, or someone else leaving her house. It's ludicrous, Rockley, simply ludicrous to think Victoria came to a place such as this."
Max noticed that one of the larger vampires had been eyeing Rockley with more than curiosity. He needed to get the man out of here before he found himself in the middle of a brawl. The truce the undead and mortals shared here at the Silver Chalice was tenuous; once strained or stretched, it quickly disintegrated into a melee. He'd seen it happen.
In spite of the fact that it would be more than an inconvenience to Sebastian Vioget, Max couldn't let that occur. He looked at Rockley, who, for all his every-hair-in-place appearance and perfectly folded cravat, appeared ready and able to protect himself.
Acting the hero was all well and good, and it certainly must be attractive to the ladies… but the Marquess of Rockley was not the least bit equipped to deal with the particular dangers here. Max had plenty of experience and little patience with such naive do-gooders.
The only thing to do in a situation like this was buy some time, get the man a drink, and put salvi in his whiskey. That would make him much easier to manage.
"You did not tell me you were engaged," murmured Sebastian in the flickering light.