Victoria Gardella: Vampire Slayer by Colleen Gleason Page A

her mother saw her, she looked particularly
radiant.
    “Well, now,” Lady Melly twittered. She was a
handsome woman herself, and had chosen to dress in Greek fashion as
Circe. Having been widowed more than two years earlier from a man
she’d cared for, but never truly loved, she had just recently
re-entered Society with a vengeance. “You do look lovely, Victoria,
dear, and it is certain that Rockley will be enchanted. That tiny
little black patch on your cheek is just the most delightful
touch…although I do rather think you could do without that little
wooden thing sticking out of the back of your coiffure. I vow,
sometimes I wonder whatever your maid is thinking when she dresses
your hair.”
    Victoria smoothly moved out of the way when
her mother reached to touch the stake secreted in her curls. “I
like it, Mother. And should we not be leaving? I’m not certain how
long it will take me to find Rockley, as we’ll all be masked.”
    “Oh, I have no fear on that,” Lady Melly
said, ushering her daughter quite unnecessarily out the front door.
The carriage was waiting, a footman standing with the door open and
the groom holding the horses. “He shall be dressed as that infamous
Robin Hood, and I’ve made certain that he’ll know who the
mysterious Marie Antoinette is.”
    Victoria didn’t bother to ask how her mother
found out how Phillip—as he’d asked her to call him—would be
costumed, nor how she would inform him of her daughter’s guise. It
didn’t matter one whit. She merely allowed her mother to muse
delightfully over her machinations to have her only daughter marry
a wealthy marquess.
    Not that Victoria minded, for Phillip was
handsome, charming, and seemed to be as besotted with her as
Victoria felt toward him. He’d been seeking her out at every social
event they’d both attended since her debut…and had even kissed her
once while driving her through the park. That was when he insisted
that she call him by his given name, despite the fact that they
weren’t married, or even betrothed.
    When they arrived at Lady Petronilla’s home,
Victoria had to succumb to her mother’s last-minute fussing before
she could emerge awkwardly from the carriage. Really, those skirts
were more than a bit much, and she nearly lost her balance due to
their weight and the fact that her heel caught in a hem.
    She really hoped there would be no
vampires here tonight.
    Inside the ball, Victoria and her mother made
their way from the grand foyer into the ballroom. The butler
introduced them only as “Her Majesty Marie Antoinette, and Circe,”
since they were masked and would remain that way until
midnight.
    In spite of wishing to appear aloof, Victoria
found herself looking for Robin Hood. From the way her mother had
wrapped her talon-like fingers around her arm, she knew Lady Melly
wouldn’t let her slip into the crowds until they found him.
    But then a generously-sized Aphrodite bore
down upon them, her gown flowing behind her like a great pink sail.
Lady Melly released Victoria’s arm and greeted one of her two bosom
friends, the Duchess of Farnham.
    “I daresay, Victoria, you look absolutely
lovely,” crowed the duchess, who wore a heavy necklace of garnets
and a light dusting of crumbs. “Or shall I say, Your Majesty?
Perhaps you ought to adjust your mask a bit,” she added.
    “Yes indeed,” Lady Melly said, pulling
urgently on the covering, unaware that a sharp edge was scraping
across her daughter’s nose. “It would be a shame if Bretlington or
Werthington-Lyce recognized you before Rockley, for I don’t know
how you should get out of dancing with them.”
    In that, Victoria could not help but agree,
for the former had exceedingly putrid breath that accompanied
non-stop raptures over his bloodhounds, and the latter spoke nary a
word at all but spent his time leering down the bodice of her gown
and treading upon her toes.
    But at that moment, her mother’s
manipulations came to fruition. Victoria