Alexandra Ivy - My Lord Vampire

He resisted the urge to knock her to the ground for her impertinence.

“It might be several days before I am able to see her again. I hope this will brighten her spirits.”

With clear reluctance the maid took the package he offered. “Very well.”

“Do not delay in giving it to her,” he commanded in stern tones. “I am certain it will help to make her forget all about the pain in her head.”

“Yes, I will, sir.”

He once again flashed his cold smile. “Then be off before those pastries lose their warmth.”

Dipping her head the maid scurried past him and headed directly for the large house at the end of the block. Tristan watched her disappear with a surge of satisfaction.

“Soon, my lady,” he whispered into the darkness. “Soon you will be in my power and I will sink my teeth deep into you.”

Seated at the window seat, Simone stared into the darkness of her garden as she absently shredded a dainty lace handkerchief.

It was the third handkerchief she had destroyed in as many nights.

Not that the destruction was making her feel any better, she acknowledged as she tossed the tattered lace aside. Nor had pacing the floor of her bedchamber for hours on end. Nor even the appalling concoction that had tasted suspiciously of rotting fish that her cook had insisted she drink to help her sleep.

But even as she told herself she was being a fool for virtually making herself a prisoner in her own home, she could not bring herself to step out of her chambers.

How could she possibly face others and pretend that nothing was the matter?

How could she face Gideon?

Or, heaven forbid, Mr. Soltern?

Of its own accord her hand raised to her neck. She still shuddered at the mere memory of Gideon’s stark confession.

A vampire?

It was insanity.

Beyond insanity.

And yet, had she not already realized that he was not human? Had she not witnessed his powers?

The light knock upon the door was a welcome distraction, and turning from the window she cleared her worried expression.

“Enter,” she called softly, not at all surprised when her maid pushed open the door and crossed the carpet toward her. Poor Daisy had not bothered to hide her growing concern at Simone’s uncharacteristic bout of brooding. She had, indeed, taken to arriving in the bedchamber with innumerable treats in the hopes of lifting her mistress’s heavy mood. “Daisy, you should be abed.”

The kindly maid held out a small basket that offered a most tempting aroma. “I have brought you some of those pastries that you like.”

Simone smiled at the young woman who was regarding her with an anxious gaze.

“Thank you. That was very kind of you.”

“You must eat something, my lady.”

Simone could not halt her faint grimace. Even the thought of food was enough to make her stomach heave in an alarming fashion.

“Yes, I will,” she hedged. “Perhaps later.”

Daisy gave a disapproving shake of her head, easily able to detect the manner Simone’s skin had tightened over the fine bones of her face and the dark circles beneath her eyes.

“’Tisn’t good for you to remain in this room and brood. No gentleman is worth becoming ill over.”

Simone widened her eyes in surprise at the chiding words. “What makes you believe that I am brooding over a gentleman?”

A knowing expression touched the round face. “If a woman is cast down it can always be blamed upon a gentleman. A right lot of trouble they are.”

A near hysterical laugh threatened as Simone thought of Gideon. She could only wish she was annoyed with him because he devoted his time to the gaming tables or had taken a mistress. Those were at least failings she could comprehend.

As it was ...

She trembled as she instinctively gathered her light robe closer to her body. “True enough. They are trouble I have no need of at the moment.”

“Well, as to that, I must say that life would be a good deal duller without them about,” Daisy reluctantly conceded. “They do have their uses.”

At the moment Simone would be hard pressed to think of one. Unless she were to count turning her life into chaos and ensuring that she would never again have a decent night’s rest.

“I think that I shall go to bed now, Daisy,” she said, knowing the maid would remain to prod her into eating the pastries if she did not send her on her way.

The servant turned to leave, then abruptly turned back to regard Simone with an embarrassed expression.

“Oh, I nearly forgot.”

“What is it?”

The maid reached into the pocket of her apron to remove a small package.

“A gentleman halted me in the street and requested that I give you this gift.”

Simone felt a chill run down her spine as she reluctantly accepted the gift.

“What gentleman?”

Daisy gave a restless shrug. “A rather queer sort, although he did once save my life.”

The sense of premonition only deepened at the maid’s obvious unease.

“What ... what did he look like?”

“A large man with cold eyes and long silver hair.”

“Mr. Soltern,” Simone whispered in horror.

“He seemed quite anxious that you receive this gift as soon as possible.”

Simone shivered, longing to toss the package through the window. It was, in fact, what she had done with the priceless bracelet that he had given to her.

Common sense, however, held her hand. Gideon had warned that Mr. Soltern would do whatever necessary to get his hands upon her necklace. She had to discover if he was plotting against her.

“That will be all, Daisy.”

The maid dropped a ready curtsy. “Good night, my lady. Just ring if you need me.”

“Yes, yes I will.”

Waiting until the servant had left the room and firmly closed the door behind her, Simone crossed toward the candle she had left burning on the table beside her bed. Then, sinking onto the side of the mattress she forced her stiff fingers to undo the string tied about the package and peeled back the heavy paper.

A note fluttered onto her lap, but Simone paid it no heed as her heart froze at the sight of the miniature painting that had been revealed.

She recognized it immediately, of course.

It was a portrait her sister had commissioned only weeks before Lord Gilbert’s death.

There was no mistaking the glorious golden curls and petulant features, nor the deep rose gown that had possessed golden threads through the bodice.

There was also no mistaking the fact that the portrait had been left in Devonshire since her sister had been quite determined to have a new portrait commissioned with a London artist.

Simone struggled to breathe.

Somehow Mr. Soltern had learned the truth of her past.

A past that was supposed to be buried along with her sister.

Dropping the miniature upon the bed, Simone reached for the note to read the brief message that she was now expecting.

If you do not wish London to know of Sally Jenkins then come to the brewery tonight. Bring the Medallion.

Tristan

Numb with shock, Simone discovered herself rising to her feet and pulling off the robe so that she could don a plain black gown.

What choice did she have, a voice whispered in the back of her mind?

She could not possibly allow him to reveal the truth. Her entire life would be at an end. Dear Lord, she might very well be hauled off to the gallows.

As she dressed, however, her initial flare of horror began to recede and she forced herself to consider what she was about to do.

It was one thing to face a man intent on extortion.

It was quite another to face a desperate vampire who was willing to murder without remorse.

A ball of ice formed in her stomach at the thought of making her way alone to the brewery and facing Mr. Soltern.