Chapter 5 #3
“Then I had nothing to be concerned about, I am sure,” she said, handing his coffee cup back to him. As she did, their fingers brushed together. It was like a static shock ran straight up her arm. She jumped back, accidentally dropping the cup, smashing it between them on the hard wooden floor.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Beatrice dropped to her knees and so did Giovanni, both of them reaching for the pieces of crockery.
“No, don’t!” Giovanni grabbed her hand, stopping her from touching the broken pieces. “It is sharp, you might cut yourself.”
Beatrice caught her breath, stilling her whole body as her hand was clenched inside his.
She remembered how it felt when he had grabbed her in the carriage, and pulled her into his arms. Then she slowly looked up.
Giovanni was staring down at their entwined hands and his expression was impossible to read.
She felt as if the ground was shifting underneath them, threatening to disturb the whole landscape of their relationship.
Would things ever be the same now? How could she put it in the past when she felt the way she did?
Beatrice swallowed hard.
“Gio—”
“There you are!”
They both started, their hands ripping away from one another as they whipped their heads around to the door. Anna stood there, smiling.
“Oh! Has there been an accident?” She asked, stepping into the room with Marion, the housekeeper, coming in too, carrying Caleb in her arms.
“Uh, yes,” Giovanni mumbled, standing up and holding the largest pieces of the cup in his hands. Beatrice stood beside him, sweeping her dress down and catching his dark green eyes for a moment before looking away. “I dropped my cup.”
“Let me take it, Amante,” Marion said, addressing Giovanni by his last name as most of the staff did.
She set little Caleb on the ground. He was just at the stage of crawling, and Beatrice instantly stepped forward to sweep her nephew up into her arms, comforted by his soft scent and the warmth of his sweet head against her face.
Her heart was racing from her contact with Giovanni and she could feel his tension even standing at a distance.
She noticed the way he ruffled his newspaper and tried not to catch her eye.
Marion took the pieces of crockery and left the room, bustling out and calling for a serving girl to come with a broom. Anna smiled at them both.
“Something arrived for you today, my dear,” Anna nodded as Marion came back in with a bouquet of white roses and a small card. “I presume they are from a suitor.”
“White roses, so lovely,” Marion said, handing them to Beatrice for her to admire.
“Yes, they are,” Beatrice said, sniffing in their floral scent. “And not as… obvious as red roses, don’t you think?”
She deliberately avoided looking at Giovanni, but out of the corner of her eye, she watched him, checking to see if he had noticed her veiled reference to their conversation in the carriage. His hand stilled on the newspaper.
Was it enough to let him know that she did remember what happened? Would he want to talk with her or continue to pretend?
“But red roses have their appeal, do they not?” Giovanni said, speaking quite heartily, and Beatrice felt a flicker of annoyance.
“Not to me,” she said, trying to sound light-hearted. “I like white roses better.”
“Oh, white or red, they are still beautiful! Open the card!” Anna laughed.
Beatrice thought she saw Giovanni frown, but then he was beside her again in a moment. She wondered if he was going to whisper something to her, but he just held out his arms for Caleb.
“Let me take him,” he said. “So you can read your card.”
“Oh, of course.” She handed her nephew over to him, watching Giovanni’s face split into the engaging grin she found so appealing as he took the child in his arms. The little boy giggled and laughed as Giovanni poked his nose familiarly.
“Beatrice?” Anna looked at her curiously, waiting for her to read her card.
“Oh!” Beatrice opened it, flustered at being caught looking at Giovanni so intently. “It - it is from Lord Milton.”
“Wonderful!” Anna clapped her hands happily. “Didn’t I say he would be taken with you? Oh, what does he say?”
“Um, very little,” Beatrice said, uncomfortable to be reading the note in front of Giovanni but forcing herself to behave normally. “He says that he hopes the flowers shall match another of my gowns, and that he looks forward to calling on me this week.”
“Oh, my,” Anna whispered, reaching out to squeeze Beatrice’s arm. “This is such wonderful news! You have had so many admirers, my dear, but this is a great step. Your brother and I are so proud of you. You shall be married within the year, I am sure of it. Just think of it!”
“Excuse me,” Giovanni mumbled, coughing loudly as he moved towards the door. “I shall take Caleb outside.”
Beatrice didn’t look up as he left, fixing her eyes on the creamy blooms. She wondered if he was leaving because he was uncomfortable with all the talk of suitors after their angry discussion two nights before, or if he was uncomfortable with talking about her potential wedding when the intimacies they had shared together were so close in memory.
Or perhaps he cared not either way.
She focused on the soft scent of the roses and tried to forget about his touch.