An Acquired Taste (The Valentine Society)

Chapter Twelve

A ll eyes are on me from the moment I enter the dining room. I expect it’s partially because I’m late—I had to wander around the hallways, trying to find my way here—but I’d like to think it’s also because of how I’m dressed.

The attention is intoxicating and embarrassing all at once. I hold my head high, keeping in my mind the image I saw of myself in the mirror. Cat’s eye liner, red lips, an elegant burgundy gown that dips low between my breasts and shows off every curve. I’m not as magical with makeup and hair as Lissa, but I’m doing my best to coax out a shade of that bold and beautiful woman she transformed me into the night of the Valentine’s Day Ball. I did all of this because I wanted them to look. Wanted him to look, specifically.

But when I raise my eyes to scan the room, I see Ellen, a couple of familiar faces, a couple of unfamiliar ones, Barnabas smiling and wagging his tail from the rug, and… that’s it. No Sebastian.

Disappointment is a knife to my chest. I’m surprised by how much it hurts. Just when my feelings toward Sebastian had started to soften, resentment curdles in my stomach once again. Maybe he is just an asshole who invited me here to ignore me. But why the hell offer patronage, then? It couldn’t have just been for my gross blood. I doubt he’s even drinking the vial Ellen extracted from me this morning. Then is all of this out of pity? The thought is awful. Humiliating.

But for now, I plaster on a smile and find a seat. There are plenty of open ones; the long mahogany table is built to seat around a dozen, and there are only five staff members present besides me. But before I can sit, a young man lurches to his feet. He’s curly-haired and covered in freckles and can’t be any older than twenty.

“Oh, please, ma’am, allow me,” he says, flustered, and pulls out a chair at the end of the table.

I smile at him—he blushes furiously in response—and take the offered chair. I’m a few seats away from the nearest dinner companion, but I have to assume that this is meant to be a seat of honor, rather than some kind of exile. Though it’s hard to ignore that everyone else is dressed casually. I am indeed overdressed. It’s also impossible not to notice how quiet the room has become since I entered, as though all of the conversation stopped. The grandfather clock in one corner ticks audibly in the silence. Were they talking about me?

I swallow back self-consciousness and seek out Ellen among the strangers. “Will Lord Sebastian be joining us for dinner?” I ask, unable to give up my hope completely.

Ellen shakes her head, looking apologetic. “I’m afraid Lord Sebastian prefers to take his meals alone, in his study,” she says. “I’m sorry, I should’ve mentioned it. But we’re so happy to have you here! And you look stunning .”

Of course he wouldn’t make an exception for me on my first day here, even knowing I’d be surrounded by strangers and he has yet to even greet me since my arrival. I suppress a sigh and try to smile instead. “Well, I’m glad for an opportunity to get to know everyone.”

Ellen takes my cue and begins a round of introductions around the table. The boy who pulled out my chair for me is Trent, the groundskeeper’s grandson and assistant. The groundskeeper himself is a gnarled old man named Tobias who greets me with a scowl, but since that seems to be his default expression, I try not to take it personally. I recognize Vincent, the driver who brought me here, and give him a small smile; he sweeps off his hat and nods back. The last is the chef, a stout, friendly woman named Bridget who gives off an energy younger than her streaks of gray hair suggest.

“And I already know this lovely lad,” I coo, reaching under the table to scratch Barnabas under the chin. He whines, tail smacking against a chair.

Conversation starts in fits and spurts, peppered with glances in my direction, but soon returns full force. While I eat quietly and with no small amount of enjoyment—dinner is a crispy duck with plum sauce, butter-rich mashed potatoes, and roasted carrots—I observe the others at the table. I knew that a decent-sized staff would be required to maintain a big, old house like this, but I didn’t realize that everyone would stick around for dinner, too. There’s a cozy, familial vibe in the room. Yet it also makes me painfully aware that I’m a newcomer and the odd one out.

They try to include me. Ellen brings me into the conversation whenever she can, asking polite questions about my background. I answer honestly, even though I know it’s far from exciting material, and part of me wishes I could make up a more alluring history for my glamorous new persona as a valentine. They all seem a bit shocked when I tell them I was working as a waitress at a greasy LA diner just a week ago.

“But you seem so glamorous,” Trent says, and then flushes like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. I beam at him, and he continues, “We were surprised to hear that Lord Sebastian had hired a valentine, but… it’s easy to see why you caught his eye.”

My smile goes a little strained around the edges. If Sebastian were enamored with me, he would be here. But I don’t want Trent to know he struck a nerve.

“Is it really so surprising? Most vampires have at least one valentine, don’t they?” I ask.

“Not Lord Sebastian,” Trent says, shaking his head.

“What?” I ask. “Like… never?” I look around the table, but nobody answers. It seems so strange , especially given my room. The red canopy on the bed, the vanity table, the rose-framed mirror… it all seems outfitted for a valentine.

“The master’s personal life is none of our concern,” Tobias says with a grumble. “And especially not to be gossiped about with a stranger .”

“She’s not a stranger,” Ellen scolds. “Show some respect.”

Tobias grunts and spears a piece of duck on his plate with more force than necessary.

I am curious to know more, but I can tell that trying to pry right now would only put me on the cranky groundskeeper’s bad side.

Instead, I say, “You seem loyal to Sebastian. How long have you worked here?”

Despite Tobias’s suspicious glance, he can’t resist the urge to answer. “All my life,” he says, lifting his chin. “My father worked the grounds before me, and I’ve been helping look after them since I was a boy.”

“And now you’ve brought on your grandson,” I say, with another smile at Trent. “That’s amazing. You must love it here.”

“Can’t complain,” Tobias grumbles.

“I inherited this position from my father, as well,” Ellen says. “And Victor’s family has worked here for generations. Bridget is the only new one.”

“New?” Bridget scoffs. “I’ve been working here for fifty years!”

“I think I speak for all of us when I say we’re happy working here,” Ellen says. “And we hope you’ll come to love it as well.”

The conversation drifts from there, and I am content to stay quiet and observe the curious mixture of people who are willing to give up daylight to work for Sebastian. And as I see how comfortable they are with each other, how like a family they seem to be, it comforts me to know that Sebastian can’t be such a terrible person if he’s created a home like this.

I only hope that I will find a place here, among them.

* * *

Back in my room, I remove my makeup and dress and crawl into bed. When I grab my phone, I’m surprised to see a notification. And I nearly drop the device onto my face when I realize that notification is from Alexander de Solomon following me back. Not only that, but he’s in my DMs.

There you are. I was afraid I’d never get a chance to see you again.

I bite my lip. Type something, untype it. Type again.

You remember me?

His response comes startlingly quick.

As if I could forget such a lovely face.

If there was any doubt he still intends to flirt with me, it’s gone. I squirm in my bed, not sure how to feel about it. If he wanted me, he should’ve made an offer to be my patron. And now that I’m Sebastian’s valentine, it means I owe him my loyalty. Even if he didn’t show up to greet me or get my blood for himself or join me at dinner. Right?

“Right,” I whisper to myself, and shove my phone back under my pillow before I can change my mind. This life may not be what I imagined when I became a valentine, but it’s what I’ve got. I signed a contract, and I owe it to Sebastian to try to make this work.

Still, thoughts of vampire nightclubs and lavish parties plague my mind, and the silence of the estate weighs on me as I drift off to sleep.