Page 24 of Fangs, Frost, and Folios
Isadora’s eyebrows went up. “I didn’t know you had tattoos. Can vampires get tattoos?”
“Only before they turn.” She spun toward Ben. “We are not allowing this moment to pass with no celebration! What is wrong with your culture?”
A moment later, she flew off down the hall.
Probably looking for Sadia so she can tattoo her.
“Tenzin.”
“She’s gone.” Isadora folded her hands on the table. “You can make me my tea.”
“Good.” Ben rose. “Tea I can handle.”
“Periods you can’t?”
“Fertility rites,” he muttered under his breath as he started the kettle on the stove. “Well, good to know that both of them hate me now.”
Seven
The following night, Beatrice sat with Nick in the drawing room, trying to pry information out of him, though she was beginning to think the man was clueless about his family’s assets and archives. The housekeeper, Mrs. Dawson, was serving them wine and cheese while Nick stared into the fire.
“You seem concerned.” Beatrice didn’t like to see that many lines on such a young face. “I hope we’re not being an imposition. I’m sure it’s strange to have so many people in your house, rummaging around in the middle of the night, especially right after your aunt has passed.”
“No, no.” He stopped himself. “Well, it is odd, but I’m sure you have your reasons. Is your husband—?”
“In London at the moment.” She pulled a card from her pocket. “Consulting with E. M. Macintosh on an early Marlowe folio we found.” It was the cover story Giovanni had concocted before he left. “Gio wanted to get his opinion before we attempted to put any kind of value on it. It’s an early volume and probably quite valuable.”
“Oh.” His eyebrows went up. “You know, I don’t think there’s any kind of security or anything on the library. Do you think I should install something? I always assumed most of what’s in there were old textbooks and maps and things to do with the estate.”
“Once we’re finished with our initial survey, we’ll know more.” Security would definitely be a good thing, but she didn’t want to put Nick’s alarms up when he was so trusting.
At least not until they were done.
She smiled. “René said that your fiancée returned from her trip.”
Nick let out a breath and smiled. “She has. Elise had a wonderful time in town, but I’m happy to have her home. Well, in what will be our home eventually, won’t it? She’s packing up some things in the cottage tonight. Thought she’d start bringing some of them over in the morning. She has a couple of friends with a van, and she asked them over from town to help.”
“A big transition for both of you.” Beatrice eyed the housekeeper’s back as she left the room. “How does Elise feel about marrying into the aristocracy?” Beatrice caught herself. “I’m sorry—she may already be upper class. I have no idea—”
“Oh no, it’s a conversation.” Nick laughed. “She was born in France as a matter of fact. Thinks all the titled stuff is rather… Well, it’s a different culture, isn’t it? She’s not sure about being a lady of the manor, but she says she loves me enough to manage it.”
“Did she and your aunt get along?”
“Like fast friends,” Nick said. “I think Penny is the only reason Elise is willing to move. That and my plan for the music school.”
“The music school?”
“Yes, I was telling your husband I’d like to make music education in the country my project, but more locally, I’d like to turn the cottage where Elise and I have been living into a school. It’s close enough to town that children would be able to ride their bikes or walk out there, and it’s isolated enough that drums and trumpets wouldn’t bother anyone.”
“That’s a great idea,” Beatrice said. “Do you think—?”
“Nick?” A young woman poked her head in the door. “Oh. So sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”
Nick rose as soon as he saw her. “Elise darling, this is Beatrice De Novo, one of the specialists cataloging the library for the solicitors. We were just talking about the school.” He turned to Beatrice with a huge smile. “This is my fiancée, Elise Lambert.”
“How lovely.” The woman was probably in her early thirties, around Nick’s age, and her accent was slight but delicately French. She had rich brown hair and pale skin with a slight flush from the cold outside. “I came to see if you’ve eaten anything. Did Mrs. Dawson make you eat?”
“I’ve forgotten again.” He smiled and looked at Beatrice. “She knows how forgetful I am.”
