Chapter 3 #3
“Well met indeed, Amante,” the viscount nodded to Giovanni elegantly. “I hear good things about your work.”
“Do you?” Giovanni kept his tone even and barely nodded his head to the young man. The viscount flushed even deeper, well aware that Giovanni had seen him gazing at Beatrice’s bosom, and averted his eyes. Giovanni, proud to have won that round, turned to Beatrice.
“Your brother asks for you, Miss Klane.”
He extended his arm, gesturing for her to move back inside with him. Unfortunately for him, Beatrice knew him nearly as well as he knew himself. She narrowed her eyes at him and didn’t move.
“He does?” She said, in the acerbic tone she reserved for when she was quite put out. “I was under the impression that my brother preferred me to keep Lord Milton company at this time.”
She widened her eyes, trying to tell him silently that she wanted to be left alone with the viscount, but Giovanni chose to wilfully misunderstand her, despite the fact that everything she said was undoubtedly true.
Silas would definitely want her to continue talking to Lord Milton.
Unfortunately, Giovanni didn’t care much about what Silas thought at this moment.
Blood was pounding in his ears; all he could think about was getting Beatrice away from the other man.
“His preferences have altered.” He turned his eyes back to the viscount. “Based on behavior.”
“On behavior?” Beatrice exclaimed. “What could you possibly mean by that?”
“It is of no import,” Lord Milton said, avoiding Giovanni’s gaze, clearly desperate that he not be revealed as having looked at Beatrice lustily. “I am sure we can resume this conversation another time.”
“Of course, it is of import!” Beatrice said, glaring at Giovanni. “What can you possibly mean by interrupting me? It is entirely uncivilized?—”
“I am tasked with safeguarding the young lady’s welfare,” Giovanni spoke over Beatrice, addressing his words to the viscount. “I do not think Lucifer would be pleased to hear she has been… cornered on the terrace.”
Giovanni watched as the word “Lucifer” had its desired effect. The pink tinge drained from the viscount’s face and he turned sharply to Beatrice, smiling tightly.
“I shall bid you good night, Miss Klane,” he said, taking her hand and bowing low over it. Then, to Giovanni’s utter annoyance, he kissed it and added, “For now.”
“We shall see,” Giovanni said darkly. “Lucifer will be in touch.”
“Oh—well, goodnight, my lord,” Beatrice stammered, curtseying in confusion.
Giovanni saw the way the viscount looked at him as he left—the younger man was scared of him, of Giovanni’s dark eyes and coarse manner, and his association with Lucifer.
But he also wanted Giovanni to know that he would be back.
Giovanni glared daggers at him, safe in the knowledge that he had a distinctive fearsome countenance when necessary.
“What were you thinking?” Beatrice hissed, slapping him with her fan. “He is my suitor! You can’t scare him away!”
“He was not behaving appropriately,” Giovanni folded his arms and tried to stare her down. A hard thing to do, since Beatrice Klane had been raised by a man for whom staring others down was nothing more than a fun pastime.
“He was behaving entirely appropriately,” Beatrice snapped, her eyes dancing around the assembled group who Giovanni knew were whispering behind their fans. “What will people think? They will assume Silas ordered you to chase him away.”
“They’ll do nothing of the sort,” Giovanni placated quietly. “They’ll assume Silas Klane is keeping his greatest treasure close to his chest, as is appropriate. No one suitor should be given such liberties.”
“I - I don’t—” Beatrice spluttered, unusually lost for words for a moment. She seemed surprisingly flustered, and the skin of her neck was very pink. Was something wrong?
“What liberties? Let us deal with that first, then perhaps we can deal with the concept that I am my brother’s property?—”
“You know I did not mean that,” Giovanni said, trying to calm her down. “And is it not the act of a libertine to drag you into the corner of a terrace? To stand so closely? To look at you so…” Giovanni struggled for the word, “wantonly?”
“Of course, he was looking at me that way,” Beatrice hissed. “That’s the point!”
Giovanni’s heart clenched a little at her words.
One thing he despised about Beatrice coming out in society was that it had made her much worldlier—more experienced in the art of courtship.
How he missed the young, fresh girl who would blush just to hear her name spoken in Italian!
Still, this was the first time he had ever seen her openly flirt with another man.
It was out of character and irritated him no end.
“That’s the point?” He hissed back. “I think I should hardly know you with that attitude.”
“Well, perhaps you do not know me as well as you think!” Beatrice shot back, shaking her head a little as if she was dizzy.
It was an unusual action for her, and an even more unusual choice of comment.
He and Beatrice never spoke of themselves, of their friendship, of their long years living together like a family.
That she would choose to comment now was strange.
Then, he considered her outward flirting, equally uncharacteristic, and her dizziness.
He noticed an empty champagne glass on the small table beside her and groaned inwardly.
“How much have you had to drink?” He asked sharply.
“What?” Beatrice challenged him lowly, her voice dangerous. Like her brother, when she was truly incensed, she was more likely to become cold and deadly than fiery and chaotic.
“How much?” He demanded, matching her tone, his eyebrows raised. She had never had a talent for staring him down, and her eyes darted tellingly to the empty glass.
“That is none of your concern!” She blustered. “I cannot believe you would ask me that, Giovanni!”
“Time to go,” Giovanni said abruptly.
“What?”
Giovanni knew that he was losing her affection, that perhaps he had done the wrong thing entirely by interrupting, and maybe there would be hell to pay with Silas later. But right now, he didn’t care. He clung to the excuse of alcohol as if it was his only lifeline and grasped her elbow.
“You are drunk,” he maneuvered her towards the stairs. “I’m taking you home immediately.”