Prologue Wherein Our Heroine Considers Her Options Victoria Gardella Grantworth de Lacy, Dowager Marchioness of Rockley, had a problem-and for once, it didn’t have to do with vampires. Well, that wasn’t precisely true-it did, in an oblique way. There really wasn’t any part of her life that had nothing to do with the undead. Ever since her great-aunt Eustacia had informed Victoria, two years ago, that she was the next in their long family line of Venators-vampire hunters-Victoria’s life had become filled with the red-eyed undead and their gleaming fangs, sharp wooden stakes secreted on her person, and the challenge of appearing normal to the rest of London Society. Victoria was anything but normal, for she wore a holy strength amulet, the vis bulla . The tiny silver cross every Venator wore pierced through their skin imbued them with the extraordinary powers of their calling: speed, strength, and fast-healing capabilities. But despite her unique skills, Victoria’s current problem was of a more common variety for a young woman. It had to do with a man. She looked at the rich bloodred gown her maid had pressed in anticipation of tonight’s ball given by the Duchess Farnham. It lay spread on the hip-high bed in all of its lush glory. With its low dйcolletage, clean lines, and understated frills, this was the kind of frock