Fortunately, Phillip had become familiar with Lady Melly’s enthusiasm due to past exchanges, and he caught Victoria’s arm before she—and her mass of skirts—stumbled over his boots. “Shall we?” he asked, cupping her fingers intimately around his warm, muscular arm.

As he drew her toward the dance floor, where a country dance had just ended, Victoria passed a golden-haired man dressed as a medieval lute player. Though he wore a mask the color of well-brewed tea, topaz eyes glittered through the holes…and caught Victoria’s gaze.

A little shiver tingled over the back of her shoulders and she felt a quick, funny twist in her middle. She knew him. The knowing heat in those eyes…the little lift at one side of that full mouth.

Sebastian Vioget.

What on earth was Sebastian Vioget doing here?

This time, Victoria did stumble over her blastedly heavy skirt as Phillip drew her into a smooth embrace, very correct, with the proper amount of space between them…and launched them into the three-count step.

Even as she was fully aware of the imprint of Phillip’s hand at the back of her waist, and the comforting feel of his fingers around hers, Victoria couldn’t keep her attention from following the masked lute player. He was dressed in an emerald shirt with a gold tunic over it, making it easy to follow the shine of his garb as he moved smoothly through the clusters of people.

The last time she’d seen Sebastian Vioget had been at The Silver Chalice, a pub that he owned and operated in the unpleasant, dangerous neighborhood of St. Giles. His clientele consisted mainly of vampires, although a few brave—or unwitting—humans also patronized the place.

Somehow, Sebastian had recognized the fact that Victoria was a Venator, and he’d made his fascination clear. And there had been that moment in his private office….