Page 11 of Wynter's Bite

“Burnrath is more watchful than usual. With your blazing hair, you’d stand out like a fox among hens.” Gavin shook his head. “Besides, with the increased rogue activity, you’re needed here.”

“Yes, my lord.” His logic was irrefutable. And yet, Justus was succumbing to an increasing sense of stagnation. There was something missing from his long life, but he had no notion as to what it could be. Before Gavin could catch wind of his doldrums, he bowed. “I’m off to the Medway for a bite and any morsels of news that might be of interest.”

Gavin clasped his shoulder. “You’re a good vampire, Justus. The best I have.”

“Thank you.” Justus’s stomach knotted. Lately he didn’t feel so very good.

And once he arrived at the Medway Inn, a cozy pub where gentleman of the upper classes drank, gambled, and avoided their wives, he felt even less honorable as he made his way towards Lord Wickshire, Bethany’s father.

“Lord de Wynter!” Wickshire said as he spotted him. “Come, have a dram of brandy with me.”

Justus inclined his head and joined him. He’d played a few card games with Lord Wickshire and spoken with him at multiple soirees, but until this summer, he’d had no idea that the man had a daughter. Of course, that wasn’t unusual. Female offspring did not exist until they were out in society, and once they were married off, they returned to their previous invisible existence.

As if reading his mind, Mead launched into a tangent bemoaning what a trial it was to have a daughter.

“The expense of all her gowns and other fripperies are enough to beggar me, I tell you.” Wickshire quaffed the remainder of his drink and gestured to a barmaid for another. “Not to mention the cost of her dowry. Would that I’d had a son instead.”

Justus concealed his frown with a sip of the glass of brandy the barmaid placed in front of him. “I understand that Miss Mead is witty and comely. Surely you won’t have too much trouble securing a respectable match.”

“Yes, she is as pretty as a daisy. But I confess, my spirits are low.” Mead’s brows drew together in consternation. “Silly chit always has her nose in a book. Mark my words, she’ll be cross eyed if she keeps it up. And she is sadly prone to fanciful notions. I sometimes worry about her mental state.”

Justus’s hands clenched into hard fists beneath the table. How could a man speak of his own child in such a way? “I rather appreciate a literate woman.”

Wickshire chuckled. “Yes, but I’m well aware of what sort of appreciation you have with women. See that you don’t extend it to my daughter.”

“Rest assured, despoiling maidens is not to my taste.” Justus rose from the table, suddenly not so proud of the reputation he’d carefully cultivated. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an important matter to discuss with Sir Henry over there.” He loathed Henry, for the chap was a pompous ass. However, that did not mean that the man didn’t have his uses.

To cheer himself up, he lured Sir Henry Swinton outside. As his fangs sank into Sir Henry’s neck, Justus gleaned a memory of him speaking with Bethany’s parents about a supper at Fosborough Manor tomorrow evening. A twinge of pity for the poor girl pierced his heart. The Fosborough’s entertainments were notoriously somber. Bethany would be bored out of her skull.

Releasing Sir Henry, he led the man back inside before circling the great room of the inn, listening to snatches of conversation. Unable to help himself, he paid extra close attention to every engagement the Meads would be attending.

Sure enough, there were several that he’d also received an invitation for. Well, he was invited to the Fosborough supper, but he had no intention of going to such a dismal affair.

***

THE FOLLOWING EVENING, Justus found himself handing his coat and hat to the Fosborough’s butler, still wondering why he’d bothered to come. But the Medway Inn had been deserted, Gavin was occupied meeting with vampires who had private concerns, and no other parties or card games were occurring this night.

When he joined the guests in the drawing room, his gaze lit on Miss Mead. She looked especially fetching tonight, with a lavender gown and silk ribbons threaded through her upswept hair. She gave him an inappropriately broad smile that he couldn’t help returning. Her mother looked down her nose at him and ushered her off to speak with another gentleman.

Justus turned and greeted Lord Bromley, dutifully listening to his talk of a wager on a horse.

“You should attend the race, de Wynter.” Bromley clapped him on the shoulder. “You could win a tidy sum and, at the least, imbibe a spot of sunlight.”

A spot of sunlight would sear him like a side of beef. Justus flinched and quickly forced his grimace into a smile. “As diverting as that sounds, I’m sorry to say that I’ll be hunting boar in Maidstone that day.” The lie rolled smoothly off his tongue.

Once more, his attention shifted to Miss Mead, the sight of her crown of curls and the sway of her hips making his mouth water. Had she started reading The Faerie Queene yet? Closing his eyes, he pictured her lying in bed, propped up on her elbows reading. That golden hair of hers gleaming in the candlelight and hanging free to frame her face. A faraway look in those bright blue eyes, those lips curving in a soft smile at the flowing prose. Or maybe she leaned on her pillow, one little hand curled under her chin. The lace of her nightgown...

Before he could dwell too much on what Miss Mead wore to bed, the hostess announced that it was time to sup. Justus found himself all at once relieved and disappointed that he was seated at the opposite end of the table from the beautiful, bookish woman who’d captured his attention.

Desolation won the inner battle as he was subjected to tepid conversation and bland food. Although vampires were unable to eat more than a few nibbles of solid food, he appreciated delicious courses and was depressed that there were none to be had.

Responding to his seatmate’s chatter with equally banal remarks, Justus watched Miss Mead from the corner of his eye. She appeared to be just as bored as he was. He wagered that just like him, she’d rather be discussing books, or perhaps Medieval history. Once more he remembered their conversation the first night they met. How did she develop an interest in Chaucer? Furthermore, how did she learn to read Old English?

“Will you be at the Willoughbys’ garden party on Friday?” Lady Vance interrupted his musings. “There is to be a glorious fireworks display at nightfall.”

The Willoughbys. Justus remembered that was one of the parties that the Meads were attending. Fireworks were a wonder that held everyone in thrall. Distracted. Easy for one to slip away from the others.

He gave Lady Vance a genuine smile. “Yes, I shall be in attendance, though I’m sorry to say that I will be late.” An idea formed in his mind. “I do indeed find myself quite looking forward to the occasion.”

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