Page 10 of Fangs, Frost, and Folios
Giovanni hadn’t visited Penny after she moved to Herefordshire with her husband. He tried to imagine his bright human friend as the lady of this formal manor and had a hard time picturing it.
“Her house in Kent was nothing like this.” He waited next to Beatrice as his wife rang the massive bell at the front door.
“What was her house in Kent like?”
“More of a well-loved pile. Old castle. Woods and meadows everywhere. A million dogs wandering around and run-down stables where she brewed homemade cider.” He looked around, imagining the cost of upkeep and staff that a manor like Audley had to require. “Then again, it was probably falling apart at the seams. I always suspected that Penny married Mortimer for his money.”
“You make her sound conniving.”
“She wasn’t. She was practical.” Giovanni smiled. “She told me once that she could love anyone if she’d had enough gin.”
Beatrice smiled. “She sounds like a character.”
“And an imminently kind soul.” He looked up at the stone crest over the door. “I’m sure she did love him. Penny could find something lovable about anyone. Even a vampire assassin.”
Beatrice’s face went blank. “Please tell me you were never hired to kill anyone she liked.”
“Oh, I’d retired by the time I knew Penny.” He cocked his head. “One or two of her ancestors however…”
“Gio.”
“The Jacobean period was complicated. That’s all I’ll say.”
The door opened to a stern-faced woman wearing a black uniform. “May I help you?”
“Giovanni Vecchio and Beatrice De Novo of Henrik Brothers, London. We’re here to see Nicholas Mortimer. We were sent by the offices of Prescott and Bales Solicitors in London.”
She opened the door wide. “We weren’t expecting anyone this evening, but I’ll let His Lordship know.”
Nicholas Ralph Mortimer was an unassuming young man of thirty-one with a mop of wavy blond hair, cheerful blue eyes, and the wiles of a suburban golden retriever.
“Such a stroke of luck that Aunt Penny had friends in antiquarian-book circles,” Nicholas said. “But not a surprise of course. I think Aunt Penny knew everyone. There was an absolute menagerie at her funeral; she would have loved it.”
“I was privileged to meet Lady Penelope on multiple occasions and even attended a party or two at her family estate in Kent. Her loss cannot be overstated.” Giovanni was shocked the young man hadn’t asked to see a single credential, but it made life easier when humans were trusting. “It so happens that Beatrice and I have worked in curation and authentication for your aunt’s solicitors on multiple occasions. You can depend on us for discretion and accuracy.”
The young man waved a hand. “I’ve no doubt. I’m sure if they hired you that you are the best in your line of work.” He smiled innocently. “I don’t really know that much about Aunt Penny and Uncle Mort’s book collection myself—just the children’s section I’m afraid—though I do make frequent use of the modern-book corner Penny kept for guests.” The young man smiled. “Love a good spy novel when I’m not working.”
He was like a lamb. An innocent country lamb sitting on a giant pile of gold. Dear God, it was so tempting to rob him blind.
“You’re a primary school teacher, I believe?”
“I am, and I also direct the orchestra at the secondary school in the village. Music is my passion, though I suspect I’ll have to cut back on teaching a bit now.” He looked around the house. “I always knew in the back of my mind that I’d be in charge of all this someday, but it’s still sinking in.”
Beatrice leaned forward, her button-down shirt gaping slightly at the neck. From the side, Giovanni could see the swell of her breast and the delicate fang marks he’d left on her when she was still mortal.
Focus.
“I hope our hours won’t disturb you,” his wife said. “Authentication is often a process that happens during business hours, but in a family home such as this—”
“It’s fine. Really.” He looked around the green salon where a fire burned in the grate and the house staff had decorated with tinsel and pine boughs for the holiday. “My fiancée and I—Elise, I’m sure you’ll meet her when she’s back from town—live on the grounds in the old dowager cottage at the moment.” His eyes fell. “I suppose we’ll be moving into the manor house eventually, but it all seems a bit overwhelming at the moment.”
“Of course,” Giovanni said. “We don’t want to inconvenience you, especially around the holidays.”
“Do you know if a catalog of the collection has ever been made?” Beatrice asked. “If we could work off an existing catalog, it might go faster.”
“I don’t think so. Penny always talked about hiring someone to do it, but then she also said that some of the collection should go back to Kent eventually, to her family home.” The young man smiled with a hapless expression. “I’m really not sure what is what at this point. They were married for so many years.”
“We’ll do what we can with the records we can find,” Beatrice said. “Did she ever talk about how the library was organized? If there was some kind of system in place for—”
