Chapter 13
IN WHICH OUR HEROINE PROVES HERSELF WORTHY OF THE APPELLATION
Maia stared at the ruby-studded hairpin all the way back to Blackmont Hall, trying to recall where she’d seen it.
The design was distinctive: elegant curlicues of metal twining along the pin, decorated with five small rubies.
Of course, identifying the owner didn’t necessarily mean she, or—one couldn’t eliminate any possibilities at this time—he, was involved in Corvindale’s disappearance.
But the fact that it was rubies, combined with Maia’s very acute sense that something wrong had happened in the back room at that shop, certainly led to the logical conclusion if she found the owner, she’d find information about Corvindale.
The constable had listened to her concerns, and seemed willing to do something since a peer of the realm was missing. But at the same time, he’d looked at her sidewise as if to question why she was involved. And even why an earl must need to answer to the likes of her in regards to his actions.
And on top of all of this, Maia realized she had no way to contact Chas to let him know what had happened. But Angelica would tell Dewhurst, and perhaps the other vampire, Mr. Cale, could be notified, and then they would start the search.
Maia shook her head. By that time, impossible as it seemed, Corvindale could be dead.
The thought was like a cold hand seizing her heart, and she swallowed, looking at the hairpin with even more determination.
She couldn’t do much herself but try to find the owner.
That was one thing Dewhurst and Mr. Cale couldn’t assist with.
But it was something Maia could put her attention to.
It obviously belonged to a woman, and there were two ways to go about identifying her.
Once back at Blackmont Hall, Maia sent Tren to notify Crewston and Mrs. Hunburgh about the apparent disappearance of the earl. Someone had to take charge, and Maia was so used to doing it she didn’t consider letting anyone else do so—including Aunt Iliana.
Then she sent for Angelica and Mirabella, only to learn Dewhurst had taken them for a drive in the park. So she set Tren after them to bring them back.
Next, she called for the ladies’ maid she and Angelica shared.
Showing Betty the hairpin, she told her nothing other than that she wanted to return it to its owner, and she was certain she’d met her at one of the recent events.
Knowing how tightly knit the below-stairs community was, how servants gossiped from one house in the ton to another, and that of all people, the ladies’ maidservants would be the ones to know of the person who wore such a hairpin, Maia felt this avenue was her best chance to identify the woman.
Thus, she sent Betty off to the market and to do some shopping, where she was most likely to encounter other loose-tongued servants.
After that, she sent for Aunt Iliana, and while she waited, began to peruse the stack of calling cards and invitations that had arrived for her and Angelica, as well as for Corvindale himself.
Normally he ignored such things, leaving it to his man of business to respond if necessary, or to Crewston to handle callers.
She thought by reviewing these items, her memory might be jolted as to where and when she’d seen the woman with the hairpin.
Maia was certain it wasn’t someone she’d known from the ton.
It was either a newcomer—someone who’d married into the peerage from another country or area—or someone who hadn’t been out in Society for some years, or some distant relative.
Or even, she thought suddenly, someone of the demimonde.
Those women who were neither fully accepted into Society, but who nevertheless interacted with the men as their mistresses.
Perhaps she’d seen such a lady wearing this sort of decoration while shopping or at the theater.
“Maia, whatever is wrong?” Aunt Iliana appeared in the doorway of the parlor.
A handsome woman of perhaps forty or forty-five, she was built nearly as tall and sturdily as a man, although she was by no means masculine in appearance.
Her skin was nearly as dark as the earl’s, and her eyes the color of strong tea.
Maia was more than a bit shocked to see her dressed in loose trousers and a manlike shirt, along with soft slippers. The older woman’s dark hair was pulled straight back into a braid and her cheeks were damp and flushed. She looked as if she’d just been doing something with great exertion.
“I apologize for my appearance,” Iliana said ruefully. “But Hunburgh said it was urgent, that it had to do with D—the earl.”
“He’s disappeared,” Maia said, and explained. She ended by showing her the hairpin.
Iliana took one look and said a very unladylike thing under her breath. “Rubies. Someone knows about his Asthenia.” Then she looked at Maia as if she’d been caught with her hand in the biscuit box.
“What is it about rubies?” Maia asked. “Do they affect all the Dracule that way?”
Iliana seemed to measure her for a moment.
Then, obviously finding her not wanting, said, “It’s called an Asthenia.
Each Dracule has his own specific weakness.
The effects are like paralysis, and when whatever it is is touched directly to them, it causes great, excruciating pain.
Your instinct is correct. Someone used the gems to weaken him enough to take him away.
Dimitri would never have been caught otherwise. ”
Maia had known that without being told. Although she’d never had cause to see him in jeopardy or otherwise in a physical altercation, his presence suggested a man very much in control at all times.
A flash of memory, of that bare, chiseled chest, broad shoulders and the long, sleek curve of his muscular arms had her insides fluttering again.
No, indeed. He would not have been caught unless taken unawares.
She explained to Iliana the steps she’d taken to identify the hairpin’s owner, and the other woman nodded in satisfaction. “Very good. When Angelica and Voss arrive, we can send word to Giordan and Chas.”
Maia wondered about this woman, and certainly not for the first time. She spoke of the vampires and their world with such familiarity. “Who are you?” Maia asked. “You aren’t really Corvindale’s aunt, are you?”
Iliana laughed. “No, of course not. That would make me more than a hundred twenty years old, and a crone—or a Dracule—at that. No, indeed. I’m merely one who understands the threats of his world, and an old friend of Dimitri’s.
I helped to raise Mirabella after he found her.
She needed protection from the earl’s enemies, and I needed a place to live away from—well, that’s another story for a time when we have time.
Suffice to say,” she said, “I’ve learned to protect myself to some extent from the beastly ones.
Even your brother admitted I’m quite capable. ”
Maia looked at her. “Could you teach me something?”
The older woman opened her mouth, likely to decline, but Maia pushed on.
“If I’m to live in this world where my sister is to wed a former vampire, my brother hunts them, and my so-named guardian is one, I think it only fair I know something about protecting myself.
Especially since there are vampires who are coming after us.
My father taught me how to shoot a pistol when I was twelve,” she added when Iliana began to shake her head.
“Your brother would never allow it.”
“He doesn’t have to know,” Maia said firmly. “No one has to know.”
Iliana frowned and then shrugged. “Very well. But don’t tell the earl.”
Maia awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright.
Her heart was pounding and her body was slick with perspiration.
That had not been a pleasant dream. The darkness still lingered, wrapping the frightening images through her mind. Not of a warm, red world with sensual lips and tongue, the easy and welcome slide of fangs, but one of tearing flesh and screaming pain. Violence and violation.
She couldn’t catch her breath, and Maia threw back the covers of her bed, trying to jolt the last vestiges away with sharp movement. It didn’t work instantly, but slowly the ugly feelings dissipated.
Moonlight shimmered over her empty bed and the table next to it. Maia’s attention fell on the two new additions to her bedside table: the ruby hairpin and a slender wooden stake.
True to her word, Iliana had taken Maia to an empty chamber in the servants’ wing of Blackmont Hall. The room had no furnishings to speak of, and was windowless. There, she’d shown Maia how to hold a stake the proper way and where to aim when stabbing at a vampire.
“In the heart,” she said, “and they die instantly.”
A little shudder ran through Maia when she recalled how Chas had launched himself across the room at White’s and thrust his stake into Dewhurst’s torso. If Voss hadn’t been wearing armor, he would have been dead.
Maia and Iliana had practiced awhile. Maia was surprised by the other woman’s speed and agility, and learned the elder woman did quite a bit of training in order to be proficient in battling vampires.
Maia realized her own days spent with merely a bit of walking, some riding, and much sitting, had left her much less fluent in body movement.
And though she was uncomfortably warm and damp after her session with Iliana, Maia also realized she felt energized.
And now, however, her own body was a little sore.
She decided then she would practice every day, with Iliana if possible. But now, Maia was unsettled and felt the need to get out of her bedchamber.
She left the stake on her table and padded down the hall to the stairs. Perhaps a book. Or a cup of milk or even a slice of cheese and an apple might help to distract her mind.