Her rising from the sofa, which she shared with her mother, had a dual purpose: one, to get her away from the shrill voice, and second, to examine the brooch… and its wearer ’s neck.
“Oh, do you like it?” asked Nilly, moving closer so that Victoria could see.
Victoria lifted the (quite ugly) cameo of a… well, she wasn’t certain what it was, but it wasn’t immediately recognizable… from the hollow of Lady Nilly’s throat under the guise of examining it more closely. As the wide lace lifted, Victoria saw that there were no marks on her mother’s friend’s neck, and allowed the cameo to settle back into place.
And now Victoria had no choice but to settle back into her place.
“And the other thing,” Lady Melly continued as though there’d been no interruption in her lecture, “I was certain you’d find it fascinating to hear that they have notified the new heir to the Rockley estate.”
“Indeed?” In spite of herself, Victoria was mildly interested. “After they’d searched so hard and long for James Lacy, I thought it would take much longer to locate the next in line.”
“But no, Victoria, for it wasn’t that they didn’t know who the heir was… It was where to find him,” Melly told her archly. “Surely you knew that.”
Victoria didn’t have the heart to tell her mother-who had memorized the lineage of every noble family in England-that her interest in Phillip had not extended to learning every branch of his sparse family tree. She’d been much less interested in his wealth than his generous and caring personality.
Blast. A tear pricked the corner of her eye. Would she never be able to think of Phillip without that happening?
“He has been living in Spain for the last ten years,” Melly told her. “But of course, now that the current marquess has disappeared and has not been heard from in weeks, the worst is believed to have happened.” She frowned thoughtfully. “What bad luck those de Lacys seem to have. Pardon me, dear,” she added hastily, realizing she might be infringing upon her daughter’s grief.
“He’s not the only one to have disappeared quite suddenly,” Lady Nilly said, lifting a biscuit genteelly to her lips. “Didn’t your friend Miss Starcasset-who was to marry the Earl of Brodebaugh-also go missing? After he was found dead in his own parlor?” She shuddered, but bit into the biscuit with gusto. Cook Mildred’s strawberry-cream biscuits were not to be missed for any reason. Since the berries were only in season for a short time, one could not squander the opportunity.
“Ah, indeed,” Victoria replied, wondering if Nilly had learned of that information about Gwendolyn through her interactions with her brother, George. “But, though I dislike spreading gossip”-she looked pointedly at the ladies three-“I do have it on good authority that Gwen has eloped with an exceedingly unsuitable man.”
It was gossip, but a better tale than the truth. And even Victoria, for all of her virtuous activity hunting the immoral undead, was not perfect. She still felt the sting that her good friend, as a vampire, had planned Victoria’s demise simply because it had been Victoria-and not Gwen-who’d caught the eye of Phillip de Lacy, Marquess of Rockley, when the two girls debuted into Society. If the gossip behind Gwen’s disappearance was juicier than the oranges she’d had in Rome, Victoria figured it was only fair.
“Indeed?” Duchess Winnie’s eyes widened. “How unsuitable?”
“We can talk about that later,” Lady Melly interrupted, though the gleam of interest burned in her expression as well. “But I was telling Victoria about the new Rockley heir, which I am certain she will find most interesting. Of course, no one is certain what happened to the previous Rockley, our dear James, but since he’s disappeared without a trace, the lawyers have gone on to find the next in line in the event that he doesn’t return. Mr. Hubert de Lacy will arrive in London next week, so they say, and I believe it would be most fitting for the Marchioness of Rockley to attend his welcome-home ball.” She looked at her daughter. “He is a widower of five years, after marrying a Spanish girl and staying there on her family’s land after the war. A bit longer in tooth than your dear Rockley, Victoria, but as my mother always said, ‘what’s in the pocketbook before the measure of teeth’… or something of that nature.”
“Welcome-home ball? The man is not already here, and you’ve planned a welcome-home ball?” Victoria could not help but roll her eyes, but she took care to keep that unladylike expression out of her mother’s sight.
“I’m not hosting the welcome-home ball, my dear,” said Lady Melly with a gush of surprise. “If anyone in this family should be doing so, it would be you. But as you’re doing your best to deny your societal duties, I suppose I can have nothing to say about it. The party is being hosted by Viscount Rutledge, as he and Mr. de Lacy knew each other at Oxford… or somewhere from their youth.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at her daughter. “I do hope you will make an appearance so you can at least meet the presumptive new Rockley.”
“Mama, I’m not going to marry again, so you can cease and desist in attempting to fling me at every bachelor who shows his nose at court. And aside of that, Rutledge has a son only ten years my junior, so if he knew de Lacy at university, they must be of an age. If I were interested in marrying again, it wouldn’t be to a man fifteen years my senior!”
She stood. “I must be going-but, Mama, if you should like to plan a wedding so much, why do you not put Lord Jellington out of his misery and marry him?”
“Yes, indeed, Melly,” Lady Nilly jumped in. Victoria wasn’t certain if it was because the lady felt sorry for her , or because she was such a romantic that she wanted to see her friend wedded off again. In either case, Victoria rejoiced in the diversion, edging toward the door.
“Indeed not, ” said Melly. “I-”
“But why not, Melly?” the duchess put in, spraying crumbs with abandon. “It would be such fun, and Jellington is simply besotted with you. Has been for years.”
“I have no interest in getting married again,” Melly replied, for once on the defensive herself.
“But think of the gown you could wear,” Nilly sighed, pressing a hand to her nonexistent bosom.
“And the food ,” added the duchess. “I would even loan you my Mildred to do the wedding luncheon.”