And it was only the knowledge that her reputation would be in utter ruins if she did not slip away before the servants stirred that had at last sent her scurrying to her own home.
Her fingers trembled and she hastily set aside the pad and pencil.
What was happening to her?
Had Gideon bewitched her? Was she under some mysterious spell that took away all logic and left her vulnerable to emotions she had thought buried long ago?
Her thoughts were still in chaos when the butler stepped into the room and offered a bow.
“Pardon me, my lady, but Mr. Ravel has called.”
Simone shakily rose to her feet, briefly considering having him sent away before she dismissed the absurd notion. Gideon had proved time and time again that he would not be halted if he wished to see her.
Besides, if she were to be perfectly honest with herself she could not deny that a part of her wished to be with Gideon. No matter what the mystery that surrounded him, no matter if she felt as if she were going mad.
He had entangled himself in her heart, and she very much feared that she would never be free of her feelings for him.
“Thank you.” She somehow forced a smile to her stiff lips. The staff had already developed a great fondness for the gentleman turning her world upside down. There was no use in upsetting them. “Put him in the front salon and tell him I shall be along in a moment.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Simone briefly glanced down at the deep jade walking gown she had chosen after her bath. It was a lovely gown with an enticing bodice that had stirred more than one admirer to heated glances and indecent proposals.
She wryly wondered if she had chosen the gown knowing that Gideon was bound to put in an appearance.
With a shake of her head at her foolishness, Simone squared her shoulders and forced herself to calmly make her way to the front salon. She might as well try and touch the stars as to comprehend her reactions to Mr. Gideon Ravel.
Entering the large room drenched in morning sunlight, Simone was surprised to find Gideon pacing the carpet as he awaited her arrival.
For a moment she regarded him in silence, drinking in the elegant beauty of his pale features and the chiseled perfection of his male form. With supple grace he moved across the carpet then, no doubt sensing her presence, he turned to regard her with a glittering gaze.
“Good morning, Simone.”
Stepping farther into the room she forced herself to assume a casual manner. She would not gape at him as if she were some moonstruck schoolgirl. Even if she did feel like one.
“This is a surprise,” she said smoothly. “I did not expect you this morning.”
Accustomed to his arrogant self-assurance she was rather startled by the unmistakable nerve that pulsed at the corner of his jaw.
“I must speak with you.”
“Very well. Will you have a seat?”
“Not here,” he said abruptly. “My carriage is outside. Will you join me for a drive?”
Realizing that something urgent was troubling Gideon, Simone did not even hesitate.
“Of course.”
Holding out his arm, Gideon led Simone to the foyer in silence. She swiftly collected a parasol and her gloves before allowing him to steer her out of the house and down the stairs.
Once at the tilbury, Gideon lifted her onto the leather seat and took his place beside her, taking the reins from the coachman.
“I will drive myself,” he informed the waiting servants. “You may return home.”
With a practiced crack of the whip, Gideon had the grays in motion, and Simone waited with rising impatience as they crawled through the heavy London traffic. She did not know what had occurred, but she did not miss the tension that gripped her companion.
Reluctantly waiting until they had managed to make their way toward the edge of town, she at last gave in to the anxiety that was beginning to form in the pit of her stomach.
“Has something occurred?” she demanded as they turned onto the side path that led to the meadow where they had so recently shared their picnic.
He paused before giving a small nod of his head. “I had a visit from a mutual friend this morning.”
Her heart gave an uncomfortable leap. “Mr. Soltern?”
“No. An old gypsy woman.”
“Oh.” Simone considered his revelation. She had already discovered that the gypsy was acquainted with Gideon, but she had never sensed anything to fear in the old woman. In fact, she had always been oddly at peace when she was in her company. “What did she desire?”
“She has commanded that I tell you the truth of myself,” he said in abrupt tones.
Simone stilled, not at all certain she was prepared to hear the truth. Once he spoke the words she realized that there would be no going back to the way her life had been before.
“She commanded you?” she asked, desperate to keep the conversation from coming to its inevitable conclusion.
“When Nefri speaks a wise ... gentleman listens.”
“Nefri? That is her name?”
“Yes.”
“And she has some authority over you?”
Gideon gave a strained chuckle. “Over all of us. She is not only powerful, she is a scholar of the ancient arts.”
“You ... you are a gypsy?” she demanded, even as she knew that she was being a fool.
“No.” Bringing the horses to a halt, Gideon vaulted to the ground and tied off the reins. Then, rounding the tilbury he helped her to alight. “Shall we take a stroll?”
Hesitating for a moment, Simone at last gave a reluctant nod of her head. Clearly Gideon was determined that she would hear his confession whether she wished to or not.
“Very well.”
Pulling her arm through his own he led her across the lovely meadow, his features tight with inner emotion.
“This is very difficult,” he at last admitted in low tones. “I do not wish to frighten you.”
“Then perhaps it would be best to keep your secrets for now,” Simone cowardly urged.
He flashed her a wry smile, as if perfectly aware of her unease. “No, it is too important that you trust me,” he said, slowly coming to a halt and grasping her shoulders so that she was forced to face him. “Simone, you must have guessed by now that I am not a mortal.”
She was shaking her head even before he finished, her stomach churning with fear.
“No, Gideon, I ...”
“I am a vampire.” He overrode her desperate words with a firm tone.
“What?” The world jerked to a halt as she regarded him in shock. He was mad. Or she was. “No. There is no such thing.”
His fingers tightened upon her shoulders as if sensing how close she was to fleeing in anguish.
“They are very real, although we left the world of humans nearly two centuries ago. Now we live in peace behind the Veil. Or at least we did until three renegades fled to London with the intention of destroying our world.”
Simone could barely comprehend his words.
A vampire.
They were the stuff of gothic novels and children’s nightmares. Horrifying monsters that sucked the blood of the unwary and lived in the shadows.
They were not handsome, elegant gentlemen who lived in London and stole the hearts of susceptible women.
“No,” she whispered in denial.
The dark eyes softened with regret as he regarded her barely restrained panic.
“Simone, there is no reason to fear me. I will not harm you.”
She shook her head at his calming words. “I do not believe you. You must be out of your wits.”
“Listen to me,” he urged softly. “The old gypsy is in fact the most powerful of vampires. Long ago she used an ancient artifact to produce the Veil. When the renegades escaped they came in search of the artifact to bring an end to the Veil and to use the power for their own glory. I was sent to halt them.”
Pressing a hand to her stomach she attempted to catch her elusive breath. It helped to assure herself that this was all a terrible dream and that soon she would awaken to discover she was safely tucked in her bed.
“Mr. Soltern?” she demanded in oddly thick tones.
He gave a slow nod of his head. “Yes, he is one of the traitors.”
Which, of course, meant that he was also a vampire. Simone shuddered in horror. The man had been in her home. He had touched her.
“And the artifact?”
“It was a Medallion that Nefri wisely divided and offered to three mortal women. She bound them with a spell that ensures that they cannot be taken by force, only freely given.”
Simone’s hand lifted to the gold amulet that lay against her skin.
“My necklace.”
“Yes.”
A heavy silence descended as Simone’s thoughts whirled through her head too swiftly to follow. It was all so impossible. Vampires and Medallions and strange veils. That did not even include gypsies and traitors.
No sane woman would believe it for a moment.
“You are a vampire,” she said in dull tones, as if saying the words would somehow waken her from the wretched dream.
“I fear so.”
“And yet you walk in the daylight.”
He grimaced at her accusation. “Unlike Tristan I have not taken of human life. The curse of the sun does not affect me.”