interesting, nonetheless.â
I was spared having to deny it as Milo went to his room, leaving our adjoining door ajar.
âIsobelâs always enjoyed causing a scandal,â he said from inside. âIâd wager sheâs trying to rake things up in hopes of generating another profitable novel.â
âNo, I think itâs more than that. I think thereâs some secret sheâs been keeping.â
âYour instinct at work again, I suppose.â
I chose to ignore this aspersion cast upon my intuition. Milo could deny it all he liked, but my perceptions had been accurate more than once.
I thought back over the events of the evening. What exactly was it that had made me uneasy? Of course, the entire scene at dinner had been unnerving, but that wasnât what was nagging at me. There was something else, something that had seemed unusual. Then I remembered.
âMr. Roberts said something very strange tonight,â I said. âHe told me he might never go home. What do you suppose made him say that?â
Milo came back into my room, clad in his bedclothes and dressing gown. âPerhaps he supposes Isobel will drink his blood in the night and leave him for dead.â
I smiled. âThatâs a bit unfair, isnât it?â
âUnfair to vampires, perhaps.â
âI just had the distinct impression that something wasnât rightâ¦â
âThat may well be true, darling, but I donât see how itâs any of our affair.â
I sighed. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I was even looking for trouble where none existed. In any event, there was nothing more to be done about it tonight.
I got into the bed and instantly regretted it.
âOne need be a vampire to withstand these sheets,â I said. âTheyâre like ice.â
âWell, then let me warm you,â he said. Discarding his dressing gown, he pulled back the blankets and slipped into bed beside me.
He pulled me against him, and I was soon very warm indeed.
Â
5
I AWOKE EARLY and found myself unable to go back to sleep. The room was very cold, and, though I was reluctant to leave the warmth of my bed, I couldnât help feeling that there were things to be done. For one thing, I had not had a chance to discuss last nightâs events with Laurel. For another, I was terribly curious to see what would happen at breakfast.
I considered waking Milo, who sleeps like the dead, but decided against it. There was no reason he should have to rise early just because I did. I bathed and dressed as quickly as possible since the bathroom was frigid and chose one of my warmest ensembles, a smart gray wool suit with a fitted jacket and pleated skirt.
Then I went downstairs, prepared to meet the day.
Everything was laid out on the sideboard in the breakfast room, and I was a bit surprised to find it empty, save for Miss Van Allen.
She was seated at the table, a cup of coffee before her, making notes in a notebook. There was a strange expression on her face, a curious combination of concentrated intensity and something like wistfulness.
She looked up as I hovered in the doorway, and it was too late to retreat.
âOh, good morning, Mrs. Ames.â
I would not have taken Isobel Van Allen for an early riser. She seemed to me the type of woman who would enjoy lounging about in her negligee until noon, but perhaps it was unfair of me to assume such things. She certainly was well turned out this morning. She wore a black, exquisitely cut suit, and her makeup was flawless. Her hair, too, was perfectly done. Eschewing the more current short styles, she wore it in a low chignon at the back of her neck. The sleek elegance of it suited her.
âGood morning, Miss Van Allen.â
I went to the sideboard. There were a great many dishes from which to choose. I settled on eggs, toast, and fruit, and poured myself a cup of coffee from the silver pot.
âI see we have beaten the others to
Learning to Kill: Stories