"I almost love talking as much as Damon loves listening to himself," I said, an undercurrent of annoyance evident beneath my jocular tone. I needed to get Violet back to the hotel. After al , she had to work tomorrow night. But I knew it would be a chal enge to get her to wil ingly leave this party. And we stil hadn't found Cora.
"Wel , I must go, but wil I see you and Charlotte tomorrow near Grove House?" Samuel asked after a moment, glancing meaningful y at Damon.
"Of course." Damon nodded.
"One o'clock? It has to be before my show," Charlotte said.
"Yes," Samuel said. "And, Stefan? Would you and your friend like to come? It could be amusing," he said dryly. I blinked at him. I felt everything he said was just on the edge of an insult, but it was impossible to pinpoint what was so offensive about the words themselves.
"Want to come to a party, brother?" Damon asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Oh, please?" Violet asked, clapping her hands together.
"We'l see," I said stiffly.
"Violet, would you like to come?" Typical Damon. "Stefan wil if he can pencil it in between his moralizing, Shakespeare reading, and detective work."
"Detective work?" Charlotte asked in confusion.
"Never mind, pet," Damon said. "Inside joke."
"It's a boring story," I said. "Far more interesting is Damon's love of drama. You should get him to talk about the acts he's pul ed off."
"You're an actor?" Violet asked.
"We'l talk more at the party!" Damon said, clearly annoyed. Wel , good. If talking in code and getting under his skin was the way to get him to pay attention to me, then I'd do it.
"Yes!" Violet said eagerly.
"We should probably be going," I said gently, taking Violet's arm and escorting her through the throngs of people and out the door.
I breathed a sigh of relief as the cool air hit my face. It was the perfect antidote to the hot, crowded, tense atmosphere of the party. I didn't think about Damon. I focused on the buzz of the gas lamps above and the flutter of the leaves and the staccato steps of pedestrians - al of the everyday noises I heard, amplified because of my senses, but rarely appreciated.
Once we got back to the room, I placed Violet on the bed, gently tucking the coverlet around her body. Her eyes were ful y shut by the time her head hit the silk pil owcase.
I took longer to fal asleep. Outside, the streets of London were stil buzzing, and every time I closed my eyes, I thought I could hear Damon's laugh, wafting up from the streets and into my mind.
Chapter Nine
I 've always been a brother. It's a thought that comes to me, unbidden, late at night or when I'm walking silently through the forest, stalking my prey. No matter who knows that about me, or whether or not I share that information, it's a part of me that I can never forget.
When I came along, of course, I had my parents, but they were older, authoritarian, a presence in the morning and in the evening. But Damon was always by my side. He was who I explored the world with, who I rebelled against, who I occasionally yearned to be.
On the other hand, Damon was not always a brother. As the eldest, there were years where it was just him, alone in the world.
He'd never had the constant sense that he was being compared to someone else. He'd never known what it was like to always be reaching for the sun while standing in the shadow of another.
I don't think he ever felt that way about me. He was always the older brother, always showing me how things were done, always coaxing me to ride a horse I was frightened of, or kiss a girl whom I was worried wouldn't like me back. I watched him, wide-eyed, as he conquered the world.
And even now, I couldn't break free from him. I couldn't stop being a younger brother, who was simultaneously fearful and in awe of the unique force that was Damon Salvatore.
"How do I look?" I woke to Violet prancing into the room, wearing a light blue dress with a crinoline underneath that rustled with every step.
"You look lovely," I said as I sat up and stretched my arms over my head. I couldn't believe I had al owed myself to sleep past dawn; usual y I was wide awake wel before the sun rose. But despite al my troubled thoughts, the comfortable couch had lul ed me into a deep, dreamless sleep.
I wondered what was happening at the Abbott Manor, who was taking care of the chickens and livestock.
I imagined Oliver glancing out the window, waiting for me to come home to take him hunting. It was a world away.
"What time do you think we should leave?" Violet asked.
"For what?" I asked, deliberately playing dumb. I hoped that Damon's mention of the afternoon party had been washed from Violet's memory by the rivers of champagne she'd consumed last night.
"Why, for the party your friend invited us to attend. We are going, aren't we? It sounds like fun. Plus, Charlotte mentioned her producer wil be there, who couldn't be there last night. Maybe he's the man who met with Cora," she said, smoothing invisible folds of her dress with her smal hands. Violet was definitely priming herself to be a woman like Charlotte, with a slew of eager men ready to do her bidding and compliment her at any moment. And even though Violet's preening should have been exasperating, she was so wide-eyed and enthusiastic, like a child playing dress-up, that it was nothing more than adorable. "Are you sure I look al right? I wouldn't want them to think I was a slattern from the slums. After al , I told them that I was an actress from America. From Cal- eye-forn-ia," she said, overemphasizing the second syl able.
"California," I corrected. "And your accent sounds grand." It was funny. The longer Violet and I spent together, the more we seemed to adopt each other's accents. She did sound half-convincing as an American, although I was sure that I sounded positively ridiculous using a vague Irish brogue.