Come the Night

Ross stared at the darkened windows. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “The clan split up into two factions after Raoul died. It got pretty bad for a while. They’ve only just reunited under a new leader.”

For the first time Allie’s high spirits seemed to dim. “We should have been here,” she muttered. “We might have helped.”

“Wouldn’t have made any difference,” Ross said. “The clan is no happier about your marriage than the pack is. Not likely that they would have listened to either one of you.”

Allie noticed Gillian’s oblique glance. “The clan is the big vampire organization in New York.”

“From which Allegra fortunately escaped,” Griffin said.

“With a little help,” she said, reaching over to lay her hand on Griffin’s sleeve. “Anyway…the subject won’t interest Mrs. Delvaux. I’m the first vampire she’s met. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Gillian said, prompted by the other woman’s frankness. “I’m certain they must exist in England, but loups-garous…have no dealings with them.”

“Let alone get married to them,” Allie said wryly. “The prejudice probably goes back thousands of years.”

Gillian stiffened. “I didn’t intend to cause offense.”

“None taken.” Allie squeezed Griffin’s hand. “Someday, maybe everyone will realize it’s love that matters, not that other stuff.”

Her words slashed at Gillian’s already fragile composure. She was painfully aware of Ross, knowing what he must be thinking. She could hardly bear the thoughts careening through her own head.

If Allie had been in her place, she would have stayed with Ross. She would have flung all other considerations and consequences aside.

But I am not Mrs. Durant. I could never be.

Gillian rose. “We have imposed too much upon your hospitality, Mrs. Durant,” she said. “We should return to Manhattan.”

Ross cleared his throat. “I’m sure that Griffin and Allie would be happy to put you up tonight,” he said.

Gillian knew what he was trying to say. It was still possible that O’Grady would find her and Toby. But the prospect of staying here seemed almost as bad. “I would not wish—” she began.

“Ross is right,” Allie said. “It’s getting dark, and God knows this heap has plenty of empty rooms.” She pursed her lips. “You’re a little taller than I am, but I’ll bet I could fit you out with anything you’d need.”

“Mrs. Durant, I—”

“Can’t we stay, Mother?” Toby begged. He yawned expansively behind his hand. “I am rather tired.”

In spite of Toby’s blatant manipulation, Gillian knew that a refusal now would be rude. She had begun to like Allie Chase in spite of her initial doubts, and the prospect of being close to Ross on the trip back to Manhattan was more than a little daunting.

“Very well,” she said. “If you are certain our remaining will not be an imposition.”

“Not at all,” Allie said.

“May I use your telephone? I should ring my brother and tell him where we are.”

“Of course. Come with me.”

“Perhaps I might put Toby to bed first.”

“I’ll take him up,” Ross offered, getting to his feet. “You do whatever you need to.”

Gillian had no desire to behave in a way that would suggest to the Durants that she didn’t entirely trust her good friend Ross Kavanagh. “Thank you.” She turned to Toby. “I shall say good-night presently.”

Toby nodded, his eyes unfocused. Gillian knew that look. It had nothing to do with boredom or weariness; he was concocting some sort of scheme or other. Reluctantly she followed Allie to a somewhat more formally decorated room that was obviously left unused the majority of the time. An ornate telephone table stood by the door.

“Here it is,” Allie said brightly. “I’ll give you a little privacy.”

But she made no move to leave the room. Instead, she wandered about, clucking her tongue as she brushed her fingertip across a tabletop and her skin came away coated with dust.

“Sorry about the mess,” she said. “I never was much of a housekeeper.”

Gillian searched her mind for something to say. “Did you enjoy your stay in Europe, Mrs. Durant?”

“If you don’t start calling me Allie, I’ll think you don’t like me.”

Gillian looked for somewhere to sit. “We have scarcely met,” she said.

“True, but if you’re Ross’s friend…” Allie trailed off and picked up a porcelain figurine from the table. “So you worked as a nurse during the War?”

There seemed no polite way of escaping Allie’s questions. “Yes.”

“And that was when you met Ross.”

“Yes.”

“Your husband must be a pretty modern guy.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The old-fashioned kind—you know, the ones who still have a foot in the last century—they probably don’t like their wives to go gallivanting around a foreign country with an unattached male friend.”

Informality was one thing, but this was another matter entirely. “I am a widow,” Gillian said coldly.

As if realizing she’d gone too far, Allie set down the figurine and met Gillian’s eyes with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “I’m sorry,” she said, the simple words covering Gillian’s loss and her own rudeness. “It really is none of my business.” She strode to the door, her short skirt swirling about her knees. “Please let me know if there’s anything you need.”

She left, closing the door gently behind her. Gillian took a moment to catch her breath. Why had Allie found it necessary to probe into her marital status? Why had she assumed that Gillian’s supposed husband would forbid her to see an old wartime friend?

Because that is exactly what would happen, Gillian thought. Of course, if she were married, Toby might never have escaped, and neither of them would have come to the United States.

Unwilling to pursue that line of thought, Gillian picked up the telephone receiver. She dialed the operator and asked for the Roosevelt Hotel. Hugh answered on the third ring.

“Gilly!” he exclaimed. “Where are you? I expected you back hours ago.”

“You needn’t have worried, Hugh. We are still with Mr. Kavanagh.”

“Well, you’d better get back here soon. Warbrick has been haunting the hotel since this morning.”

“I did attempt to ring him at his hotel.”