Burn for You

Chapter Eleven

It starts with one thread being woven in and out on the fabric. Slowly with each push of the needle and tug of the thread, it becomes an image. Embroidery, a necessary skill for any young ladies and to Victoria, the best way to keep her hands busy as she waited for Alexander's arrival.

Both sisters were in the drawing room. A pianoforte basking in the morning sunlight. Sofas of plush green upholstery. A table of mahogany and it was set with biscuit ladened porcelain plates. Amelia sat on a sofa opposite Victoria. A scandal sheet dangling from her fingers. Worry pinched her cheeks.

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?"

Victoria looked up, her needle hovering above the almost finished petal. "I believe so."

Footsteps and Niall appeared. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Alexander Seares is here, ma'am."

Victoria's gaze flickered to the mantlepiece's clock. The big hand struck ten. Right on time.

"Send him, in," she replied. Niall gave her a brief nod and went to fetch him.

"I hope you are right," Amelia said, rising to her feet and left.

Niall returned with Alexander in tow. Victoria placed her embroidery down beside her. Her ankle crossed over the other. She rested her hands on her lap. The butler gestured for the prince to sit and Alexander took Amelia's vacated seat.

"Tea?" Victoria asked.

"A kind offer but no," the prince replied.

Niall departed and Victoria gave herself a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking.

"I won't mince my words, Alexander. You ruined Danika, plain and simple. How ever willingly of a participant she was, it doesn't change things. In society's eyes, her reputation is destroyed. Now, the question is what next?"

There was no subtle change in his expression or body language but Victoria knew she had his full attention. If she was honest with herself, it was slightly unnerving to stare into the eyes of a dragon.

"Society dictates that when a young lady is compromised, the honourable thing to do is to marry her. To make things right in the eyes of society. You however are not a part of our circle, therefore do not have to abide by our rules. You can walk away and none will be said ill of you for doing so. Women however are not afforded the same opportunity."
A short pause as Victoria took a deep breath before speaking again.

"It has not escaped my attention that a Van Helsing is in town. Oh, they don't hide their arrival nor I wager, would the Lucien Order."

The Lucien Order was a four hundred year old organisation, almost as old as Alexander. Created to kill uncontrollable werewolves in the beginning, they now hunted all things supernatural for a price.

"If they find out about Danika, they may consider her insignificant in such matters. However, I doubt they will extend the same offer to the child she is potentially carrying. After all, the heir of the Carpathian Dragon is quite a valuable prize."

Alexander froze. My mate could be with child. The image of a little infant with Danika's eyes filling his mind. So did too, the image of shadowy hands tearing that child away. Rage surged in his veins. He would rip the Lucien Order limb from limb until his golden scales were bathed in blood if they dared to go after what was his.

"Viscountess Salzburg, tell me where she is," Alexander said, his voice clipped.

"Lakeside, it is a small town to the west of Cornwall."

He leapt to his feet and inclined his head. "Thank you."
A smile touched Victoria's lips.

Garlands of buttercup yellow and coral led the way throughly neatly trimmed hedges. Stone columns of ivory held up lush bouquets of ferns and roses in porcelain and baby blue vases. Benches scattered around for anyone wishing to take a respite. Inside the marquee, a table was offering light bites. Slices of cold meats on plates and garnished with bushels of tomatoes. Tiny wedges of cheese on crackers. If that wasn't to the guest's choosing, they could swap the cheese for small pots of marmalade or raspberry jam. Fondant cake slices for those with a sweeter tooth.

This luncheon was to celebrate the return of Lord Galton's son, Edward from his tenure in Europe and was hosted by his wife, Clarissa. Having no choice in the matter, Danika was in attendance. Except for the gathered pleats on the skirt, her gown of lapis blue was simple. Her hands masked by white gloves. Normally she would fade into the background by no fault of her own but today, there was no escaping the stares. The hushed whispers or snide remarks flung her way.

"You do not have do this, my darling," Isabella said, her light touch on Danika's arm.

"Ms Du Carte," a male voice said, catching Isabella's attention and she inhaled sharply.

The voice belonged to Lord Galton himself. A modestly handsome gentleman in his early fifties. His sideburns uncut and wisps of umber refusing to stay in his mess of a combover. His wife, Amanda had passed away several years ago. Portia kept stride with him, her smile telling. He stopped in front of Danika.

"My, you are a well bloomed flower, Miss Danika," Lord Galton commented before turning to Portia. "She certainly fits the bill."

Isabella looked at her sister-in-law aghast at the idea of such a match.

"Pretty. Young. Shame about the stuttering but no matter, Clarissa can perform the hosting duties."
His words stung.

"Yes, I think I can overlook her rather unfortunate prior entanglement. Provided of course, she is not with child. I have a heir already and have no interest in raising another man's."

"We hope for the same thing, my lord," Portia said. "Once we know, we shall notify you."

Lord Galton nodded. "Good day ladies."

Goodbyes were murmured and the moment he was out of sight, Portia turned on Danika.

"For your sake, you'd better not be." Her icy tone piercing her niece's heart.