Chapter Thirty-Five
The streets of Montmartre were quiet, aside from the cooing of nesting doves and the occasional crackle of gas burning in the streetlamps. Winifred tucked herself closer to Marcus’s side, exhaling a breath that formed a cloud and vanished over their heads. “Are you sure this is the place?”
Marcus squeezed his hand on her arm. “I am.”
The squat building in front of them gave no sign that it was an atelier.
It was sandwiched between two other businesses, a restaurant, and a bakery.
She wouldn’t have even noticed it were it not for Marcus.
She’d nearly tripped on her plaid, cotton skirt when he’d come to an abrupt halt at a black door.
“Maybe they have already retired,” she said.
Not that she was nervous, but that she could feel the trembling of Marcus’s arm beneath her fingers.
They’d managed many incredible things since she’d become a vampire, but venturing out of the castle long enough to visit his nest siblings in Paris had remained out of reach—until today.
His anxiety was growing like a rising tide through their bond.
She reached through their minds and wrenched the suffocating tendrils of his anxiety up by the roots until they withered and died.
They always grew back, but between her assistance and his exercises, they managed.
Marcus’s trembling arm stilled. He nodded. “I am ready.”
They walked to the door and opened it, revealing a vibrant interior occupied by two figures. Cordon stood on a pedestal wearing a black-and-orange-checkered suit while Kitty crouched by his feet. There were pins tucked in her mouth and her brow was furrowed.
“Good evening,” Winifred said.
Kitty’s head whipped toward them. She gasped. Pins fell to the ground. “Winifred! Marcus!” She leaped to her feet and rushed forward.
Winifred met the shorter woman in a tight embrace. “We wanted to surprise you.”
Kitty laughed. “You have succeeded. How did you…?” She leaned back and glanced at Marcus, who was clasping arms with a grinning Cordon.
Winifred tapped her temple with her index finger. “We have been practicing.”
“Excellent,” Kitty said. Then she looked up and down Winifred’s body and hissed. “Please do not tell me you have come to my shop wearing readymade clothing.”
The despair in her voice made Winifred giggle. “It is all I could manage on short notice.”
Kitty shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. You must have a wardrobe befitting a published scholar.” She gestured to a set of leather-bound books sitting on a table next to a cast-iron sewing machine.
“I have your entire collection.” She ushered Winifred down the steps, then stopped her in front of a wall of fabrics. “Does anything call to you?”
Winifred scoffed. “They aren’t magic.” But before Kitty could respond, she pointed to a lush sapphire velvet. “How about that one?”
Kitty grasped the edge of the bolt and pulled it out. “An excellent choice.”
Ten minutes later, Winifred stood on a podium in front of Marcus and Cordon on a chaise while Kitty murmured and walked around her in circles.
It was certainly not the way she’d envisioned the evening going, although she probably should have.
This was Kitty’s place of work. Of course she would not tolerate subpar clothing inside.
In fact, if Winifred were honest with herself, she would have admitted she’d chosen the skirt to tweak Kitty’s nose.
“Up,” Kitty said.
Winifred lifted her arms. “How many items have you completed from your list?”
During one of their previous visits to Scotland, Kitty had told Winifred of the list she’d compiled, of a hundred scandalous activities she wished to complete with her husband, a near-identical copy of the list Cordon had presented her several years prior, before they had married.
Kitty grunted as she ran a measuring tape around Winifred’s bust. “Hardly a dozen. Someone”—she sent a pointed, disgruntled glance at her husband—“prefers to laze about the shop.”
Marcus crossed his legs. “Why am I not surprised?”
Cordon splayed a hand over his chest. “You wound me.”
Kitty made a rude sound, then tucked beneath Winifred’s arm and tightened the measuring tape. “What about you?” She came to stand in front of Winifred and looked her up and down again. “Have you managed to attend a garden party while you’ve been in town? A masquerade?”
Winifred shook her head. “Not yet.” She would have loved to accept one of the many invitations that arrived for her at the hotel daily, but Marcus wasn’t ready. The ruins of Pompeii weren’t going anywhere. Her new existence had granted her startling depths of patience.
“What about your parents?” Cordon asked as if he had read her mind.
Winifred sighed. “I’ve mailed dozens of letters to my mother and cousin but haven’t received a single response.
” After the ambush at the castle, her entire family acted as if she were dead.
Were it not for the reports from spies Marcus sent to watch over the hunters, she wouldn’t have known that Felicity had taken up a position as an assistant curator at a museum in a small museum in London.
Winifred longed to see her cousin in person but was afraid of how Felicity would react when she learned Winifred was a vampire.
At least there hadn’t been any more raids on the castle or fires in the village.
They had not encountered a single other hunter since that terrible night.
But Marcus was still vigilant. She sometimes caught him staring out a window or at a closed door with an unreadable expression, like he was waiting for someone to burst through with weapons raised.
“What have we here?” a voice asked.
Winifred turned her head and grinned. Jonathan, Marcus’s youngest brother, leaned against the wall, wearing a black suit and a self-satisfied smirk. His long, black hair was loose around his shoulders and his cravat was untied. If she was not mistaken, there was lipstick smeared on his neck.
“Scoundrel,” Marcus said with a grin.
Cordon groaned. “What devilry have you been up to this night, brother? Should I expect a call from a constable?”
Jonathan lifted his eyebrows. “Perhaps.” Then he walked over to the sofa where Marcus and Cordon were sitting and sat between them, forcing them apart. He draped his long arms over his brother’s shoulders. “What did I miss?”
“Kitty was telling us about her list,” Winifred said. That was a much better topic than her family. Thinking about them made her depressed.
“Jonathan does not care about my list,” Kitty said. She rolled out the bolt of a velvet on a long, low table. “He is too busy with his curator.”
Winifred looked at Jonathan and was surprised to see him blushing. Carefree, unflappable Jonathan. How interesting.
“Tell us about this curator,” Winifred said, if only to see how he would respond. She knew Jonathan was a thief and had taken his maker’s departure from the nest some more than sixty years ago the hardest, but beyond that, he was an enigma.
“Someone had to watch her,” Jonathan said. “She’s a danger to the nest.”
With a feeling like someone had flicked her forehead, Winifred realized they were talking about her cousin Felicity. The same woman who had barged through the doors to Marcus’s castle and had shoved Winifred out a window.
And Jonathan was infatuated with her.
She should have been furious, if only because the wound in her heart that had formed when Felicity had tried to kill both her and Marcus was still raw, but hope stirred in her breast. If anyone could convince Felicity that vampires were not her enemy, it was Jonathan.
She only hoped Felicity would not become dangerous to him.
At that thought, she laughed.
Marcus leaned forward. “What is it?”
She shook her head. “I was only thinking about Felicity and Jonathan.” She smiled. “My cousin the hunter is involved with a vampire. I don’t know whom I should be more worried about.”
Jonathan’s cheeks turned bright red. “There is nothing going on between Felicity and I, nor will there ever be.” Then he crossed his legs and tilted his chin. “I am not like you four. Attach myself to a single woman?” He barked a laugh. “Absolutely not.”
Marcus’s concern shot through the bond. She responded with gentle reassurance.
Jonathan might have been brash and selfish now, but she could sense the loneliness and pain behind his confident words.
A time was coming, and she suspected it would be soon, where he would have to face everything he was holding back.
She just hoped he would be ready to accept love when it found him.
Enjoy an excerpt from The Vampire’s Guide to Wooing a Curator!