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 reallyhoped 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.