“I think you’re underestimating Beatrice, Carwyn. She’s a fast learner and I have a feeling that she’ll have a knack for the political side of our life.”
“Well, one of us should. I hate that stuff, and you piss people off too quickly. Don’t get me started on Tenzin.”
“Tenzin said something about Beatrice being my balance,” he murmured.
Carwyn frowned. “You’re not thinking-”
“I’m not thinking anything at this point. It’s not an issue yet. She’s handled herself extremely well so far. Ernesto was incredibly impressed with her. You could almost see him salivating at her potential.” He looked over his shoulder at the young woman who still slept peacefully. “We’ll see how she does in London. Meeting Terry and Gemma ought to be interesting.”
“Does she know about you and Gemma?”
He paused, thinking about Carwyn’s daughter, who was also a former lover. “I’ve told her we were involved, and that we are still friendly.”
He heard Carwyn snort. Then he heard him chuckle quietly before the Welshman laughed out loud.
“What?” Giovanni’s voice dripped in irritation.
“You make it sound like the two of you were study partners at university!”
“Beatrice knows that I love her.” He glanced at the sleeping woman in the backseat. “There was no need to go into detail.”
“Well, don’t let her imagine the worst. And she doesn’t need to hear about your sporadic relationship with my daughter from someone else, either, so make sure it’s from you.”
“Gemma and I were never serious.”
“I know that, but you two danced around each other for almost two hundred years, so don’t just dismiss it.”
“I can’t believe she’s marrying Terry. I would never have put them together.”
“Well, sometimes we find our match in the most unexpected places, don’t we?”
Giovanni turned to stare at Beatrice. Her head was slumped to the side of the car, and she was curled up with his coat covering her in the back seat. He had the urge to crawl next to her so she was lying against his side as she slept.
“I’ve never felt for any woman what I feel for her, Carwyn,” he said quietly. “It’s somewhat terrifying at times.”
He heard his friend start to speak a few times, but he kept pausing. Finally, he heard him mutter under his breath.
“You’re a lucky bastard, Giovanni Vecchio.”
Giovanni was reminded why he hated London as soon as they arrived, but he tried to enjoy it through Beatrice’s eyes. Carwyn had woken her as soon as they crossed into the city and started pointing out the sights. She smiled and bounced, enjoying the historic town as he tried to smother his own displeasure.
He hated the city. The streets were too crowded. The traffic too rushed. Too many people pressed against him if he tried to walk around, and there was too much noise. The air quality may have improved, but he remembered when coal smoke hung over the dreary town and soured the air. More than anything, Giovanni hated the cold damp that reminded him of the school in Crotone where Andros had held him against his will for so many years.
“Don’t be such an old man,” she teased him. “How long are we staying, anyway?”
“As long as we need to,
She fell silent; finally, he heard her heave a great sigh.
“Beatrice?” He turned to look at her grim face.
“I’m going to have to quit my job.”
Giovanni turned around so she didn’t see his satisfied smirk. “Oh no. Whatever will you do?”
She pinched his ear. “Shut up and don’t gloat. I’m quite capable of surviving without a job, thanks to my superior embezzling skills. I haven’t agreed to work for you yet.”
Carwyn snorted, but Giovanni just grinned.
“Yet.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Another glass of wine…B?” Gemma arched an eyebrow at her in the formal sitting room of the house in Mayfair. They had arrived at the home of Terrance Ramsay only an hour before and been immediately welcomed by more household staff than Beatrice had ever seen outside a period film.
“No, thank you.”
“Perhaps some tea?”
“No,” she smiled stiffly at the extremely elegant vampire sitting across from her. “Thank you.”
Gemma Melcombe may have been Carwyn’s oldest daughter and second child, but her manners, accent, and wardrobe revealed none of what Beatrice suspected were probably humble origins. It wasn’t just the staff that seemed to belong in a period film. Gemma’s delicate features, gold-spun hair, and tinkling laugh made it hard not to imagine her in lace and petticoats, riding in a carriage to a ball.
Which she had most likely done on more than one occasion. Possibly in Giovanni’s company.
Beatrice hadn’t asked more about their involvement, and she pushed away the cold lick of jealousy, knowing it was unreasonable. Giovanni, for all his keen intellect, could be startlingly obtuse about human nature at times. Because whatever he thought about their friendship, Gemma Melcombe was completely in love with him.
“Perhaps I should show you to your room,” Gemma said with a polite smile. “I’ve prepared one of our guest suites for you. The windows are east-facing, so you’ll be able to enjoy the morning-”
“Beatrice will share my room, Gemma,” Giovanni murmured.
He had been sitting next to her on the small sofa, lost in his thoughts and absently playing with the ends of her hair. Upon their arrival, Carwyn and Gemma had taken a few moments together, presumably to talk about Ioan, before Terry and Carwyn had retreated to the study to speak to Terry’s lieutenant about the current political situation, leaving Giovanni, Gemma, and Beatrice in the elegant sitting room to become acquainted.
Giovanni’s skin, Beatrice observed with perverse satisfaction, was still flushed from feeding from her the night before, and she noticed he seemed quicker than he had been in weeks. His amnis was stronger, as well; she wondered how much his diet of donated blood had been affecting his health.
“You want her to share your room in the basement?” Gemma laughed, cutting her eyes toward Beatrice. “Surely she will want something brighter, Gio.”
“We always share a room. We both rest better that way.” Beatrice tried not to sound smug, but she remembered Giovanni telling her years ago that no one had seen him sleep in hundreds of years, so she knew Gemma was probably included in that. She placed a proprietary hand on his thigh and smiled.
