Page 64 of From London, With Love
“Sounds like the perfect stew of political mayhem,” Kincaid muttered.
“Blue bloods and verwulfen clans,” Gemma muttered. “My, my. It’s going to be a bloodbath.”
“It will be,” he conceded. “The ambassador is to renew relations with the Scandinavian clans and foster a potential trade alliance with them. He is also there to witness the naming of the new War Hammer. I need for him to return alive and well. And not to break some Scandinavian verwulfen’s nose.”
Gemma winced. “That’s possibly going to be the difficult part. Mr. Carver has a temper.”
“You’re in luck,” Malloryn said. “His wife’s going with him. And their son. Not only is he going to be on edge with all the social niceties, but his protective urges are going to be in full force.” Malloryn smiled. “Imagine a volcano sent to parlay with a geographical faultline. And perhaps add in a bomb.”
Gemma gave him a long, steady look. “I thought you said this could be my honeymoon?”
“What?” he mock gasped. “I’ve practically gift wrapped a present for you. You’re bound to be shot at, at least once. Would you prefer taking in the waters somewhere? A nice, lazy sojourn to a cottage in Scotland?”
Gemma grimaced and clutched the folder tightly. “No. Being shot at is fine. Somewhat bracing for the nerves, but the aftermath is… extremely enjoyable.” She gave Obsidian a saucy wink.
Malloryn pretended he didn’t hear her. “Lark and Obsidian, this is also going to be somewhat of a family reunion. Your brother is reputed to be one of the Blood envoys.”
They both blinked at him, then exchanged looks.
“Nikolai?” Lark said.
“Play nicely with him,” he instructed. “I want a friend on the inside of the Blood court. There are rumors someone assassinated the tsarina’s favorite grandchild as they all vie to be named heir, and Catherine is on her deathbed. Russia’s more volatile than Will Carver right now. I want a prince in my pocket.”
“Have you met Nikolai?” Lark asked bluntly. “‘Nice’ is not a word I’d use to describe him.”
“Family trait, it seems,” Malloryn murmured. “Kincaid, you and Ava are on retirement for a few months. Enjoy it. I’m sure I’ll have need of both your services in the future.” Stealing the folder back from Gemma, he graced them all with a smile. “Now go and pack. Something warm, I’d suggest. I believe the spring in Stockholm is… bracing.”
“What about me?” Byrnes demanded.
“What about you?” he replied coolly as he pushed to his feet. “Someone has to mind the fort. And I’ll need Herbert in the field for this one.”
“Herbert?”
Malloryn examined his nails. “He has a certain level of diplomacy and subtlety you lack.”
“He blew up an entire factory full of munitions!” Byrnes exploded.
“Your Grace,” Ingrid said quietly.
Byrnes had earned it, but toying with Ingrid was beyond him. Malloryn tipped his head to her. “You’re both on personal protection duty. I want the verwulfen ambassador and his family to return without a scratch on them, and who better to trust than the pair of you?”
A slow breath escaped her. “Thank you.”
“Don’t kill anyone,” he said, directing the full attention of his gaze on Byrnes. “Don’t insult anyone. Don’t start any wars. Bring that big, hairy verwulfen bastard home to me in one piece, or I’ll never hear the end of it from Adele. She is quite fond of Mrs. Carver.”
“Why does everyone always look at me?” Byrnes protested.
“Cannot imagine,” Kincaid growled.
Ava coughed into her fist, hiding a laugh.
Malloryn leaned back in his chair. “Well, what are you all waiting for? The delegation leaves in five days. You have no time to waste.”
“You’re not coming with us?” Gemma asked, hovering above her chair.
Malloryn shook his head and laced his palms across his middle. “No. I just found out I’m going to be a father. I want to take Adele for a holiday to Bath, where we can take in the waters, lounge in bed, and she can eat cake and cheese until she’s heartily sick of it. Neither of us have had a moment to think since the tower was destroyed. I want a holiday. AndIwant a honeymoon. Try not to completely destroy Britain’s relations with two major European superpowers. I’ll be very vexed if I have to return to London and commandeer a dirigible to rescue the lot of you.”
Gemma granted him a curtsy and a devilish smile. “We wouldn’t dream of it, Your Grace. We’ll take care of everything. Two warring verwulfen countries bound by a treaty as thin as my corset laces, a scheming contingent of Russian blue bloods, and an ambassador who’s not going to listen to anything we say. What could possibly go wrong?”
He winced. “That’s why I’m sending Herbert. Dismissed.”
