“I’m certain you didn’t,” he had the grace to say. And when she looked at him, she saw a bleak sincerity in his eyes that had replaced the bravado she was used to seeing there. “But I needed to see you. Will you dance with me?”

Victoria would have rather taken a spin around the ballroom with Beauregard, the great vampire who’d tried to turn her undead, than George. But Lady Nilly and Duchess Winnie looked as though they were about to explode with pleasure at the handsome, albeit boyish, young man who was not only titled but also wealthy, and who was clearly attempting to charm Victoria.

She could see no gracious way out of the mess, so she took his arm. And at the very least, she could lecture him about spreading rumors of the undead among unsuspecting ladies of the ton. The last thing she needed was Duchess Winnie out trying to stake a vampire again, and Lady Nilly inviting one into her bedchamber. She was under the impression that vampires were romantic.

“What are you doing here?” Victoria demanded as George spun her into his arms.

“My God, you look lovely tonight,” he replied, unable to keep the bald admiration from his voice. He stepped them into the waltz, still looking at her as though every other thought had evaporated from his head.

Victoria knew from past experience that he was easily distracted, and that he wasn’t the most efficient of villains. The two times he’d tried to capture her, he’d been abysmally inept with aiming a gun, binding with ropes, and other nefarious activities. She had absolutely no fear of him. Not even an inkling. The biggest emotion he raised in her was flat annoyance, which was what she felt now.

But before she could open her mouth to speak again, he looked up from her half-exposed bosom and into her eyes. The admiration was gone, replaced by fear.

“I’m in trouble, Victoria. I need your help.”