Vampyre | Book I of Bloodlines

LORD WILLIAM SPENCER

No matter how handsome the bait, you won't see me going anywhere near the man, not intentionally—the idea of legally binding myself to a man for financial security never appealed to me, and I don't feel compelled to have children because I doubt I could ever find a man in this reality who would genuinely want to know and could accept the true me—the me that I dare show no one.

If I were to marry, I would have to leave my home, friends, and father to follow my husband, join his world, and become absorbed into his life. But what about love, Viola? Don't you want to fall in love?

I sigh and go in search of Polly. Instead of my friend, I find Mr. Harding visibly struggling with something small in his hands and approach the corner he hides himself in.

"Mr. Harding? Is there something I can assist you with?"

He looks at me and sighs with relief. "Viola, dear girl, could you open this for me?"

Mr. Harding holds up a little snuff bottle. "The blasted thing is sealed shut, and I have sausages for fingers."

I take the bottle from his hand and open it.

"Would you mind if I tried some?" I ask half-jokingly.

Mr. Harding eyes me with a cheeky grin and a twinkle in his one good eye. "If your father were to find out, I'd have hellfire to deal with."

"I didn't know you were so scared of my father, Mr. Harding," I elbow him, shooting him my best cheeky smirk while goofily wriggling my brows.

Mr. Harding laughs his loud and jolly big-belly laugh, attracting the attention of nearly everyone around us. "Ah, go on then, just don't be brazen about it."

I take a little snuff out using the tiny spoon attached to the bottle cap and try my best to hide it all behind my hand.

"A little less," Mr. Harding says quietly, and I tap some power back inside.

"Do I just inhale?"

Mr. Harding nods, and I turn to face the wall to hide my tiny spoon. Holding it to my nose, I quickly inhale the snuff.

"Wow, that's...absolutely disgusting," I mutter.

Mr. Harding lets out a loud, hearty chuckle that warms my soul and puts a smile on my face.

As I sniff a little sniff and hand the tiny little bottle back to Mr. Harding, I catch a pair of rather piercing and amused eyes lock onto me—Lord William Spencer himself watches me in the reflection of the mirror behind Mr. Harding. Bollocks, how did I not see that? Half the room could have seen me, and I'd be none the wiser.

At that precise moment, I sneeze so loudly, and so un-lady that everyone else who isn't already watching me turns to glance my way before quickly resuming their gossip and judgmental gawking.

"Well, I'm never doing that again. Have you seen Polly, by any chance?"

He shakes his head and sniffs some snuff. "No, I haven't."

I excuse myself and resume my search for Polly, carefully scanning the crowd. She should have found me by now. Surely, the talk of the corset-free Viola Clifton has reached her ear, which is the best-connected ear in town.

Polly won't be easy to find—she's the smallest person I know and detests these types of events even more than I do, but her mother insists on her making an appearance whenever events like these present themselves. She's either somewhere in a corner with a stiff drink in her hand or hiding in the garden.

As I make my way to the patio, a rather large hand gently grips my arm, and when I see whom it belongs to, I'm more than a little surprised. Lord William Spencer, in all his glory, stands before me. Blue, his eyes are dark blue, and I've suddenly stopped breathing.