“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.”
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