Dressed thusly, with her curling hair piled high to show off her long, elegant neck (which was, at the moment, devoid of vampire bites) and white shoulders, she would cut the kind of figure that would cause Sebastian Vioget’s amber eyes to smolder and his fingers itch to touch. His attention would linger on her, heavily, leaving her no doubt of what he wanted to do… what, in fact, he had already done on numerous occasions.

And as pleasant as those memories might be, unfortunately, Sebastian Vioget wasn’t her problem.

It would have been so much easier if he were.

There was an enthusiastic knock on the door, and then a burst of energy bustled in. Her maid Verbena had springy orange hair that matched her personality: loud, uncontrollable, and colorful. “M’lady, I’m sorry ’t took so long t’find these,” she said, flapping a pair of soft pink gloves. “They ’ad a stain an’ I forgot I took’em to wash, an’ left’em to dry. Grass stain, from th’ party at Lord Fenworth’s after yer return from Italy. Didn’t want t’come out, an’ I thought to m’self, What will my lady wear…?”

Victoria let her maid prattle on. The grass stain was indeed from the Fenworths’ fкte-when she had had to slay a vampire in the garden. Gloves got in the way when handling a stake, and she’d removed them, losing them in the battle and grinding one under her foot into the grass. But apparently her maid had been able to remove the stain, for the pale pink appeared unmarked. They would look lovely, evening out the sensuality of her garnet-hued gown.

And Max might even notice.

But then again, he noticed everything.

Yet beautiful gowns, intricate coiffures, witty conversation, and intelligent questions made no difference to a man who’d confessed-under duress-that he loved her. But would never, under any circumstances, stay with her. Be with her.

Because he was afraid for her.

Since her mother wasn’t around, Victoria didn’t bother to stifle her snort.