“Oh, I’m sure you’ll enjoy dancing with your betrothed even more than with me,” Vail assured Lady Victoria, though he knew he was lying through his teeth. It was true that Lord Spencer was more than likely a good dancer, since he could have lived for just as long as Vail had—it was impossible to tell with other members of their kind—but his prejudice toward all Wynters influenced his opinion of the other vampire. It was petty, but he wanted to believe he was better at dancing than his rival. As if to prove the point to himself, he went on to lead the Lady through some more complex steps, keeping her close for the added challenge of moving without tripping over each other’s feet. Throughout the years, he’d come to learn that he quite enjoyed dancing. It was an elegant art with plenty of room for creativity, and it was always changing as humans came up with more styles and motions to add to it. Plus, there was no denying it was a bit of a treat to get so close to a Lady without needing an excuse to do so. He had enough self-control not to bite, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy her scent or the lingering aroma of her spilled blood. Both were stimulating to the predator inside of him and got his heart pumping in an exhilarating way. For a moment, Vail nearly forgot he was dancing with a Crest. As he let himself sink into the intoxicating smells and the rhythm of the waltz, his previous inhibitions about staying close to the Lady Victoria fled from his mind. However, the moment didn’t last long before the dance ended, and he was brought back down to reality. Having fulfilled his offer, the Lord bowed gracefully to the Crest heiress and turned to leave, relieved to finally be able to put some distance between them. He was still determined to enjoy the rest of the party, regardless of how rocky the start had been—though, if he was honest, dancing with Victoria hadn’t been nearly as terrible as he’d thought it would be. Unfortunately, it seemed the Lady had a different agenda as she walked with him away from the other dancers. At her question, Vail nearly groaned. Apparently it had been a mistake to bring up their fathers’ relation to each other after all. He located another drink on the table, port this time, and took a sip as he thought of a way to speak of their past without telling the truth or getting himself tangled in a lie that would be too complex to climb his way back out of. “They met through your father’s work,” he finally stated, deeming the answer safe enough to use. “Although I believe they only crossed paths once or twice during chance encounters, so I’d hardly call them close.”