“We talked about it. He agreed to be civil. I still don’t like her,” Ophelia said through her teeth.
Etienne and Addie walked up. Etienne goggled. “Bon Dieu, is thatGisela?”
“How daring of her to wear the shade of blood,” Addie said. She was wearing gold silk.
“Provocative,” Ophelia said.
“Shall we join them?” Kendrick asked, offering his hand to Ophelia.
“Actually, my knee is beginning to hurt,” Ophelia demurred. “I’d rather rest it than continue bounding about.”
“Shall we sit?” Genevieve offered. “I have not had a chance to sit down yet this night!”
“Abandoned at every turn. In that case, will you favor me with a dance, Addie?” Kendrick asked. Addie accepted with every sign of pleasure.
“Better?” Genevieve asked, as she and Ophelia took a seat around the perimeter of the room.
“Yes, much.”
“Oh—do you need a drink? Something to eat?”
Ophelia shook her head. “Salem brought me a snack and a cup of punch from the kitchens just a little while ago, but thank you. I did get some odd looks as I ate a plate of sandwiches.” She smiled.
“You haven’t been bothered, I hope?”
“Salem has a very ferocious glare that he wields well. Truly, I’ve been having a lovely time. This is my first true ball. I used to think I couldn’t ever go to balls because of my leg, but Salem practiced with me enough that I can manage slow dances just fine.” She beamed. “And I danced with several gentlemen.” She glanced out at the floor. “Gisela looks like she’s sucking on a lemon, doesn’t she?”
“She might be suffering just as much as Salem,” Genevieve said. “But it was good of him to offer.”
“Mending fences is important. Finding people willing to mend them with you is also important.” A shadow passed over her face.
“There is still much lingering reluctance and those hesitant to change, but I am glad that the Ossuary is warming to transformation. We need it so badly. Vampires have such trouble with the future. I don’t know if you realized that,” Genevieve added dryly. “There is so much looking back at the past, at what was lost, and so little towards what could be.”
“You’re teaching them how to hope after they’ve forgotten how,” Ophelia said. “I think that, more than anything, is what people crave.”
Later, as Kendrick returned to her side and they were approached by people with congratulations or questions or those who just wanted to speak to them for a moment, the sentiment stuck with Genevieve as she looked these people in the face—young, old, men, women, frozen in time, exiled from the normal flow of humanity.
They all took to the floor for the last waltz, a slow revolution around the floor. Genevieve laid her head on Kendrick’s shoulder.
That’s all they want. A little hope, to bear the march of time, she thought, holding on to Kendrick.
Maybe we can show them where to find it.
ChapterForty-Two
“Best get to bed, Mr. MacPherson,” Genevieve said with a half-smile. “Jeremy comes on duty in a moment. I can smell the breakfast cooking.”
Robbie bowed from his place by the front door. “It was a marvelous ball, ma’am. Faith, I think every vampire in London came through the doors at one time or another.”
Not everyone, thankfully.“Any trouble?”
“A few humans, young bucks if you ken the type, tried to slip in here and there, but I gave them the boot,” Robbie said with a smile. “No other problems. Everyone departed in their carriages in good order ahead of the sun.”
“Thank you,” Genevieve said. Day would soon be upon them, and because of it, they had ended the ball much sooner than many human affairs that brought around carriages at dawn to cart away the partygoers. The teeming house was now quiet and still, save for the muffled voices from the billiards room. Kendrick and Salem were still awake and talking.
Ophelia had begged off early in the morning, saying she was still unused to nocturnal activities and had never been used to parties extending so far into the night. She was asleep, almost certainly. The human staff members were just waking up. And Genevieve was feeling warm and fuzzy, slowing as the sun rose closer to the horizon, still in her ballgown.
Ascending the stair to the now-deserted ballroom, she surveyed the scene with an air of surprised propriety. The chalk designs on the ballroom floor had been blurred and trampled beyond recognition, but that was how it should be. The floor had been packed with dancers, and though there had been no “refreshments,” she had received compliments on the décor, the gaming rooms set up with all manner of activities, and the music selection.
