“I have no intention of repeating that again.”
She felt her lips tremble with sudden disappointment. “Oh, well, that is good.”
“Things must progress, you know.” His smile became infinitely darker. “And I promise you, Miss Rose, the next kiss shall not be so chaste.” Then he slipped away, leaving her to pick her jaw up off the floor.
She stood a long while behind that pillar, still flushed with the heat from that brief kiss. When she finally gathered her wits, she could not recall if he’d slipped away on silent feet or simply vanished like smoke—like some devil. All she knew was that she was alone (despite the crowded room), and all that remained of him was the warm imprint of his lips upon hers.
Slowly, she brought her fingers up to trace the kiss he’d left her. Good God, if that was his notion of chasteness, she might well not survive the next kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Family Ghosts
“Miss Rose?” The gentle tap on Emma’s shoulder startled her from thoughts of illicit kisses. “Are you all right?”
She whirled around to see that Ana De Grigori was gazing at her with smiling solicitude. “Oh, Mademoiselle De Grigori, I…I beg your pardon, I must have been wool-gathering.”
“Please, you must call me Ana.” She linked their arms and guided Emma out of the shadows. “There will be no formality between us, for I am quite determined that we shall be the best of friends.”
“Well, if you insist…” Emma glanced back over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of the wayward viscount. But it seemed he had indeed dematerialized into smoke.
“I do, Miss Rose.” An expectant pause followed, but it took a few long moments before Ana had Emma’s full attention.
“Oh,” she said, blushing, “forgive me! Please, call me Emma.”
Ana nodded, also glancing back, ostensibly to see what could be distracting Emma. “Was that Lord Winterly I noticed you dancing with earlier? Handsome devil, isn’t he?”
Flustered, Emma replied in the affirmative on both accounts. “I understand the Winterlys are distant relatives of yours.”
Ana stopped, a thoughtful furrow between her brows. “I suppose we are.”
The sudden change in Ana’s countenance intrigued Emma, but she forbore the urge to pry and at length they began walking again.
“But we seldom venture into the same circles.” Confusion must have been plainly writ across Emma’s brow, for Ana then added, “Perhaps you noticed my sisters and I at Vauxhall with Miss Winterly and Mr. Valko?”
“I confess I did.”
“I regret we were not able to speak then, but perhaps we may remedy that tonight.”
“I should like that.” And Emma meant it too, for in Ana she believed, from the brief conversation they’d shared in the palatial De Grigori library, she’d found a kindred, a fellow littérateur with a love of the strange.
“As to my family’s association with the Winterlys, you are to understand that the De Grigori bloodline is as old and distinguished as theirs and, by and by, certain familial affairs do require settling—disputes over ownership of property and suchlike. But I shan’t bore you with familial politics.” Ana gave a dismissive flick of her wrist as they stopped to watch the dancers. “Now do let’s talk of something else. I hope you enjoyed your time in our humble little library and that your search for knowledge was successful? I was sorry to have missed your departure, and I know my sister, Mina, can be rather…impolite to strangers; even my sister Tanith has a sweeter disposition than our youngest sister. My brother and I had hoped to conclude our business earlier and see you off ourselves. But tell me, how did you like the collection?”
“Very much. I should have liked to have stayed hidden amidst your books forever, but the more I read the more questions I seemed to have.” It was on the tip of her tongue to confess to the theft, so easy and natural was Ana’s society, but she restrained her tongue and, instead, promised herself she would return the book before she departed for Winterthurse.
“It is the curse of every good scholar, I’m afraid,” said Ana. “We never stop learning or questioning.”
From the tail of her eye, Emma studied the lady and wondered if she might give voice to some of her questions without sounding like a lunatic. She glanced around to make sure there was no one standing close enough to overhear their conversation, even above the music. “And what if one begins to question, or rather accept, the existence of supernatural forces?”
Ana had been watching the dancers, but she turned to gaze intently at Emma. “Then one has begun to truly open one’s eyes.”
“Then you believe?”
“I do,” she said, becoming grave. “And you, my dear Emma, would not have come in search of us if you did not hold with the same belief.”
“The belief that we walk among…monsters?” It was what Mina had said right before the door had shut between them.
Ana’s brow pinched momentarily. “Yes, I suppose that is one way of considering these supernatural entities.” Then she shook her head, gesturing to the crowded room. “But this is a conversation for another time, don’t you think?”
Disappointed though she was, and impatient to know more, Emma nonetheless agreed.
“Oh, look,” said Ana suddenly, pointing towards a group of dancers waltzing at the far side of the ballroom, “isn’t that your sister dancing with my brother?”
Emma followed Ana’s finger towards a beautiful, tall man with a long mane of silver hair tied at his neck like the gallants of old. And pressed to his side was her sister, laughing up at him like the coquette she was. Had her uncle borne witness to this illicit waltz, he’d have been apoplectic. “My sister, Milli,” said Emma.
“My brother appears quite taken with her.”
“And she with him.” Emma’s lips compressed. “First it was Mr. Valko and now, in his absence, it seems her attention has been transferred to your brother.”
“Ah, the mysterious Mr. Valko. Yes, I can understand her fascination.”
“No doubt a fascination short-lived.”
Ana took Emma’s hand suddenly. “Will you take tea with me next week, I think we have a great deal to discuss.”
“I desperately wish I could,” said Emma, “but Milli and I are expected at Winterthurse next week.”
“Oh?” Ana slowly dropped her hand, her face becoming like stone as she looked towards her brother and Milli. “That is…unexpected.”
“Perhaps when I come back…?”
“Yes, perhaps then.” After a moment the tension seemed to leave her. “I wonder if I might offer some well-meaning counsel?”
“Please.”
“I feel it incumbent upon me to warn you about the Winterlys.” She paused as though to consider her next words carefully.
“Watch and be on your guard, they are not what they seem.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean that a dream isn’t always just a dream and the devil doesn’t always breath brimstone or wear his crown of horns.”