“And so you wish me to help rid you of Miss Maybelle, who has now become undead, and who, through someone’s meddling, has dragged her fifth cousin’s presumably good name into the fray. Pray tell, George… how did that come to pass?”

She stopped at the edge of the ballroom, and glanced at the foyer beyond. Guests were still arriving, despite the fact that there were more than three dozen already here. Firmly she pulled her arm from his grip and stepped away, looking up into his pale blue eyes.

“Her fifth cousin is a swine and a fool, and is most likely at the bottom of the Thames with the fish,” replied George airily.

“I suppose that to mean Miss Maybelle partook of a generous portion of his blood before disposing of him. Or did she have you do it?”

He had the grace to look away. “He was a swine,” George repeated, petulance in his voice.

“But a man, nevertheless. I happen to know a few of those swine type of men myself.” She looked at him meaningfully. “But I’ve never gone so far as to feed them to the fishes-or the undead.” She pursed her lips, rather enjoying the moment of watching George squirm. Of course what he’d been party to wasn’t amusing at all, and if ever a man deserved a comeuppance, it was George Starcasset.

In fact, the only reason she hadn’t yet walked away from him and left him to deal with his vampire guest on his own was the very real threat that he might involve Lady Nilly.

“Did you have something to do with her being turned undead?” she asked again.

He smiled nervously, his cheeks rounding like crab apples. The softness made him look more like a boy than ever. “Mm… She was curious, and so Gwennie helped… and next thing, she had red eyes and fangs. And,” he added, swallowing, “an attachment to me.”

Victoria’s brows rose. “And what did dear Sara Regalado have to say of that attachment? The two of you seemed to be rather intimately acquainted when you were escorting her about Town.”