Victoria looked at her. “Where on earth did you hear such a thing?” The Venators took great pains to keep the rest of the world ignorant of the undead in order to protect them. And when someone did see or hear something they shouldn’t, Aunt Eustacia’s special gold medallion was used to hypnotically remove the offending memories.

“Why, from Nilly’s new friend,” said the duchess. “He told us in the utmost confidence.”

“Lady Nilly’s friend?”

“Ah, but I’ve forgotten! You already know him, Victoria, and in fact, here they are. Nilly!” The duchess waved, the underside of her arm jiggling enthusiastically as the bracelets at her wrists jingled.

Victoria turned to see the slender, flat-bosomed, pale-as-a-wraith Lady Nilly approach with her new friend.

He had blond hair, round cheeks, and a cleft in his chin. Dressed as befit his station, he looked elegant in a boyish way, although, as Victoria had cause to know, he was a few years older than her own twenty-one.

“Good evening, Victoria dear,” trilled Nilly. She seemed to be clutching his arm as though she were afraid he’d fly the coop.

But she was in no danger of that, for the man bowed deeply to Victoria and took her hand, raising it to his lips. “How enchanting to see you again, Lady Rockley.”

“I don’t know how I could have forgotten that you two have met,” said the duchess with exaggerated surprise. Victoria noticed the waggle of her eyebrows as she looked conspiratorially at Nilly.

“Indeed we have,” Victoria replied, then turned to the gentleman. “George Starcasset. I certainly didn’t expect to see you again.” Her voice was glacial.

No, she certainly hadn’t. The last time she’d seen George, he’d been ushering two hostages, in the form of Max and a bloody, one-handed Kritanu, out of the room where Victoria had slain a group of vampires. George was a member of the Tutela, the secret society of mortals that protected and served the undead.