Come the Night

“If you will excuse me for a few moments…” she said, and ushered Toby into the room she’d chosen for him.

“Toby,” she said, “listen carefully. You are not to mention anything to the Durants about your relationship to Mr. Kavanagh, or about what happened at Coney Island. Nor are you to quiz Mrs. Durant about her…particular constitution.”

Toby understood her readily enough, but his jaw set in incipient rebellion. “You don’t want anyone to know that Ross is my father.”

“The matter is private and of no concern to people we have just met, even if they are Mr. Kavanagh’s friends.”

“Then what do you want me to say?”

“You know how to hold a civil conversation.” She placed her hands on his shoulders. “I trust you to use good judgment. You may answer general questions about England and what you have observed in America. Say nothing about the method by which you arrived. I am simply an acquaintance of Mr. Durant’s, and we are here on holiday.”

“What if Father tells them the truth?”

“I believe—” dear God, let it be so “—that he will also prefer to keep our private affairs confidential.”

“Your mother is right,” Ross said, walking into the room. “We won’t say anything to embarrass her, will we?”

Gillian listened for sarcasm in his voice and heard none. When he offered her his arm, she took it, well aware that he could make things very unpleasant if he chose to do so. His tacit promise to hide their secret only strengthened the emotions with which she’d struggled ever since he’d taken such trouble to protect her and Toby from the intrusive interest of the crowd.

It had taken more effort than she would have supposed to meet Ross’s mocking feints with appropriately composed answers, both in the hotel and at the amusement park. She had wavered constantly between despising him and—to her shame—wanting desperately to be near him. Only his sarcastic manner and biting questions had kept her leaning toward the former.

But his behavior had changed completely from the moment she had tried to help the boy. His support had been immediate. He had realized—all too well, as she had just discovered—how much she wanted to avoid the public notice her actions had attracted. He had been very much the gentleman then, as if he felt he owed her his protection.

Of course he didn’t, just as he didn’t owe her the compliments he’d paid her a few minutes ago.

She continued down the stairs at his side, concentrating on moving with the dignity and grace that were expected of her, letting such simple thoughts create a barrier between her keen physical awareness and the necessities of her position. She must overcome her attraction, for Toby’s sake. Dependence upon Ross’s assistance while she remained in New York would hardly persuade Toby to leave the father he had just met, and her memories…

Ah, her memories. They were the greatest obstacle of all. Vivid recollections of her affair with Ross, feeding the unwelcome reactions that overwhelmed her when she was in his presence, whenever she touched him.

Thank God Ross hadn’t sensed her emotions. He certainly didn’t share them. He’d shown no sign that his feelings for her went beyond the same natural gallantry that had been so much a part of his nature when she had met him. Still, the bitterness and wounded pride she had seen in him during their conversation at the hotel seemed to have given way to a far more sympathetic attitude.

Unless his softening was no more than a new tactic to throw her off her guard. The possibility seemed more likely as she considered it, and it was all she could do not to remove her arm from the crook of his elbow.

If he really did intend to use this new method of attack, she must under no circumstances let him think he had succeeded.

Determined not to reveal the grim nature of her thoughts, Gillian joined the Durants in a pleasant room plainly but comfortably furnished in a rustic American mode very much at odds with the Georgian style of the house itself. Allie pulled back the heavy drapes to reveal French doors that opened onto a well-kept garden, now cloaked in darkness.

“Please, sit,” she said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Do you want anything, Grif?”

“Not at the moment, thanks,” her husband said. He waited until Gillian and Toby had taken their seats on the sofa and went to the sideboard standing against one wall. “Would you care for a drink, Mrs. Delvaux? Ross?”

Ross shook his head. “Thank you, but no,” Gillian said.

“I don’t drink myself,” Durant said. He took one of the armchairs. “I was unaware that Ross had friends in England, Mrs. Delvaux,” he said, his posture relaxed but alert. “I hope your visit to America has been pleasant thus far.”

Gillian prepared herself to tell the necessary lies. “I find your country to be very interesting, Mr. Durant,” she said.

“We went to Coney Island today,” Toby piped in.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Immensely. We went into the Dragon’s Gorge and then on the Aerial Swing.” He bit his lip, eyed Gillian and fell silent.

“Mrs. Delvaux volunteered as a nurse at the hospital in London where I recovered after the War,” Ross said. “We became friends. I wrote to her a few times after I returned to America. We lost touch, but she looked me up when she came to the States on holiday with her brother.”

He didn’t look at Gillian, but she understood his ploy. He was protecting her “honor” by revealing as much of the truth as possible.

“Yes,” she said lightly. “My brother, Hugh, insisted that Toby and I come along when he decided to visit the United States. I remembered that Mr. Kavanagh had joined the New York police force after his return.” She smiled at Ross. “He has been an excellent guide.”

“I told her a bit about you and Allie,” Ross said. “I thought I’d show her Oak Hollow…the other side of American life.”

“That’s a lot to do in one day,” Allie said from the doorway, balancing a plate adorned by an enormous sandwich. “And you said you just arrived, Mrs. Delvaux?”

“Yesterday,” Ross said. “I’m afraid Toby’s been running his poor mother ragged.”

“Not at all,” Gillian said quickly. “There is so much to see and do, I’m quite certain that we shall leave America with a great many interesting sights unvisited.”

“Can’t have that,” Allie said, falling into the chair nearest her husband. “I guess you haven’t had time to see Harlem or visit a speakeasy. That’s not really Ross’s type of place, though…he’s been a cop too long.”

“I don’t think Mrs. Delvaux would be interested in visiting a speakeasy,” Ross said.

“Oh, come on. The best jazz is in the speaks. You can’t come to America and not hear the jazz.” She took a bite of her sandwich and spoke again as soon as she’d swallowed. “I know the best places. I’ll be glad to show you around.”

Gillian was beginning to feel very much out of her depth. “Your offer is much appreciated, Mrs. Durant,” she said. “But as much as we have enjoyed Mr. Kavanagh’s company, Hugh—my brother—wishes to escort us during our visit.”

“Call me Allie. Mrs. Durant sounds so…stuffy.”

Griffin Durant gave his wife a teasing look. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t agree…Mrs. Durant.”

It was obvious to Gillian that the couple were engaging in a kind of banter with which both were comfortable, an indication of their affection for each other. A vampire and a werewolf, she thought, still amazed. She tried to imagine what her father would say to such a union and found even the suggestion impossible to comprehend.

Allie was watching her. “I guess things are a lot more formal in England. Grif spent a lot of time there.”

Immediately Gillian recognized the new danger. “Indeed?”

“I don’t imagine we’d have many acquaintances in common, Mrs. Delvaux,” Durant said. “I didn’t actually meet any loups-garous when I lived there.”

Gillian concealed her relief. The chances that Griffin Durant knew anything of her personal history appeared to be remote. Unless, of course, he was lying out of courtesy.

“You asked if I were a member of the New York pack,” Mr. Durant said to Toby. “I am not, for various reasons. Not all werewolves in the United States are attached to a pack.”

“Neither are we,” Toby said, apparently judging that he was on safe ground. “But sometimes lots of werewolves from all over Europe come together in a big meeting called the Convocation, where everyone—” He caught himself in midsentence. “Do you have Convocations?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” Mr. Durant said. “But I confess that I don’t monitor the doings of werewolves in other parts of the country.”

Gillian turned hastily to his wife. “Have you been married long, Mrs. Durant?”

“Allie, remember?” the vampire said. “Almost a year. Most of that time we’ve been overseas with Ross’s sister, Gemma.” She glanced at Ross. “Seems quite a bit has happened while we were gone.”