Chapter 1

“You look beautiful, Beatrice!”

“Thank you, Lydia,” Beatrice smiled politely at the Marquess of Loudwater’s eldest daughter, a society woman for whom Beatrice had no love at all. “So do you.”

“Thank you,”

As always, the other woman was pleased with the compliment, and pressed her hands down against her silvery silk gown. Beatrice noted that Lydia’s gown was the height of fashion, but that did not stop the other woman from looking at Beatrice’s gold satin and white lace gown with tremendous envy.

“What an exquisite fabric!” Lydia said, fluttering her huge ostrich fan with glittering eyes. “Did you choose it yourself?”

“No,” Beatrice almost rolled her eyes in frustration, groaning internally. She found this kind of conversation absolutely dire, and yet she had lost count of the amount of them she had endured with ladies like this at various society events.

“Mrs. Klane did,” Beatrice added, looking pointedly at her sister-in-law, Anna, who was barely paying attention to the conversation, her eyes wandering around the room with excitement. Unlike Beatrice, who was yet to meet a ball she actually enjoyed, Anna had been completely starved of balls for the last year and half since she had had given birth to her son, Caleb. This was Anna’s first outing into society since the birth and she was eager to dance with her husband, Silas, who stood nearby, chatting with business associates. Beatrice was happy for her sister’s happiness, but just wished she didn’t have to endure a ball for it to come about.

“Anna?” Beatrice prompted.

“Oh, yes,” Anna glanced at Lydia and then reached out a gloved hand to stroke the sleeve of Beatrice’s dress. “I found it in London. Doesn’t it flatter Beatrice’s skin so beautifully?”

“Completely!” Lydia gushed. “Such a perfect find, Mrs. Klane! You must give me the name of your dressmaker.”

Beatrice tried not to snort derisively as Lydia’s sycophantic remarks to Anna. At Beatrice’s first ball, Lydia had revealed her true colours as a terrible gossip and a manipulator by trying her hand at putting Beatrice down in front of Anna, and Anna had firmly put the fear of God into the young heiress. Now Lydia was sugary sweet towards them all. Beatrice couldn’t stand the falseness of it all, and how could she ever warm to a girl who had taken such delight in her discomfort at their first meeting?

Beatrice was distracted by her thoughts at that moment as a fair-headed young man with a large forehead approached Lydia.

“Lady Lydia, might I claim your hand for the first dance?”

“Oh, how flattering, Baron Clare, but I am unavailable for this set,” Lydia simpered, blushing with pride to be able to turn the young man down. She had her sights set higher, and everyone knew it. At the moment, Lydia’s gaze continually fluttered over to the Earl of Essex.

“But perhaps…my friend? Miss Klane?”

Beatrice saw the way the young baron’s eyebrows raised at her name. Once upon a time this would have been Lydia’s way of needling her, to highlight Beatrice’s comparatively low status beside her own, but since the Klane family had risen so high in society it was a different matter. Now, Beatrice knew that the young man would be considering her fortune, her brother’s desirable business connections, and her sister-in-law’s impressive social influence when he looked her up and down.

“I would be most happy to,” Baron Clare bowed before her. “If you are available, Miss Klane?”

“Sadly she is not,” Anna stepped in, smiling gently at the Baron. Beatrice knew from experience that Anna considered the first dance of the night an indicator of intent. She would never allow Beatrice to stand up with a callow young baron that she and Silas were not sure of. With Silas’s reputation and history, they were very careful about who they entertained as possible suitors for Anna. Also, Anna would not permit Beatrice to take a partner who Lydia had rejected, simply out of spite.

“But thank you, Baron Clare,” Anna turned to Lydia, “and thank you, Lady Lydia, for being so considerate, but we would not want to take away from your opportunities. Do not be held back from a turn with the Baron on our account.”

“Of course,” Lydia smiled, clearly trying not to look put out that Anna had turned a situation where Beatrice was forced to take her cast offs into a situation where Lydia was cornered into doing the same. “I should be delighted, Baron Clare.”

He smiled, clearly relieved not to be coming away empty handed, and took Lydia’s hand. Lydia accepted it, but managed to glare some daggers over her shoulder at Anna as they walked away. Anna simply smiled sweetly and waved. Beatrice knew that her sister might look all sweetness and innocence, but she never forgot those who had wronged her family.

Beatrice noticed the way the assembled ladies and gentlemen watched the pair move towards the dance floor with interest. Every ball was the same. Beatrice sometimes felt as if she was the entertainment at these events, as though her only reason for being there was so the married ladies could provide commentary on who might be setting their sights at her this evening.

“He is a nice boy,” Anna sighed, fluttering her fan in front of her mouth to hide her words. “But though he is handsome and sweet, Silas tells me he has a gambling problem.”

Beatrice nodded, trusting Anna’s word. If anyone knew the financial status of every man in the city, it was her brother.

“You have an alternate in mind?” Beatrice asked, knowing Anna never attended a ball without a plan of how to use the occasion to advance her sister’s position in society.

“Indeed,” Anna smiled. “A viscount, no less.”

Beatrice wished she could feel more excited, but the notion of dancing with another pampered gentleman of the Ton only filled her with dread. Anna had begun a conversation with Lydia’s mother about eligible gentlemen, and just the thought of it made Beatrice’s blood run cold. She feigned interest, nodding to imply she was listening, but actually let her mind wander.

To distract herself, Beatrice looked around the room. Unconsciously, her eyes immediately sought out her brother. He was talking quietly with a small group of gentlemen with an ease that she knew he would never have been able to achieve before he was married. Anna had changed him in all the best ways. Still, their courtship had not been without its difficulties. Even now, nearly two years after it had happened, Beatrice felt a tightness in her stomach when she recalled the dreadful trauma of Anna’s kidnap at the hands of one of Silas’ old business partners.

Even though both Anna and Silas had recovered and moved on, Beatrice had struggled. In crowds like this, she found herself repeatedly seeking out the faces of those she loved, checking they were still here and well. Anna, Silas, and Silas’s right-hand man, Giovanni. It was how she reassured herself nothing bad would happen.

Across the crowded sea of gentleman in fine coats and ladies in soft silks and floating organza, through the whirling couples dancing in the centre of the wide polished floor, Beatrice saw her brother standing off to the side, as he often was at social events, near the doorway. Silas caught her gaze and jerked his head for her to join him.

“Excuse me, ladies,” Beatrice said, dropping into a curtsey.  She ignored Anna’s raised eyebrows at being left alone with Lydia, and walked to join Silas on the edge of his group.

“Are you well?” Silas asked quietly, linking her arm with his.

“I am,” Beatrice felt herself relaxing in her brother’s close presence. The warmth of his body next to hers gave her energy and strength.

“Fending off the suitors?” Silas nodded at the young Baron Clare as he stood talking quietly with Lydia by the windows. “Must I challenge that young rogue to a duel?”

“No!” Beatrice laughed softly, enjoying her brother’s ever predictable over-protectiveness. When everything in her current world was designed to remind her that she was a lady, soon to be a wife, she enjoyed this aspect of their relationship that still allowed her to feel like a young girl. “He was perfectly nice, but Anna sent him on his way. She has plans to introduce me to the—”

“—Viscount Milton, I remember,” Silas interrupted, nodding. “He’d be a good match for you.”

“I have not met him yet,” Beatrice quietly reminded him. It was a matter of small tension between the two siblings. Silas had only seen a picture of Anna before accepting her as a bride, and they’d only met once prior to their wedding. Silas sometimes forgot how rarefied their match was—that a couple brought together under the strangest of circumstances had found the deepest love and appreciation for one another.

“You will tonight,” Silas said diffidently, as if it were nothing to be worried about.

“I shall not marry a man I barely know, Silas,” Beatrice reminded him softly, trying not to get irritated.

“No one suggests you should,” he said in a placating tone, but Beatrice knew he didn’t really understand. He thought the way forward was to find a man she could imagine being comfortable with, a man she could consider knowing intimately. He never considered that the man might already be in her life.

“Where is Gio?” Beatrice asked.

“Over there,” Silas smiled ruefully as he looked at his right-hand man and best friend, gesturing to the other corner of the room. Beatrice’s stomach contracted slightly as she looked at Giovanni Amante, the man that she had secretly lusted after since her adolescence.

“It seems that the ladies here tonight are quite taken with his Italian charms,” Silas shook his head, laughing quietly. “It’s like Anna always says: Giovanni is a charmer!”

“Indeed,” Beatrice swallowed hard, trying not sound sour as she watched Giovanni laugh with a group of ladies simpering around him. As Silas’s bodyguard and right-hand man, he often had to blend in well with high society even though both he and Silas had grown up on the streets of London and Venice, respectively.

Beatrice had been hidden from most of their exploits throughout her childhood as they moved around the continent, running from their past. Silas was nine years her senior, and by the time Giovanni came into their lives Silas was twenty years old and had already accumulated a fearsome reputation. Giovanni was a seventeen-year-old bare-knuckle boxer who Silas had met when they were staying Lyon. Beatrice was only eleven at the time, but she remembered Silas bringing Giovanni home. She had stared at him, this dark, swarthy boy with his broad shoulders, sweet, heart-shaped face, chestnut brown hair and leafy green eyes. Those eyes had been full of hurt and anger and ambition.

“Ciao,”  he had said, smiling at her with such softness and sweetness, before winking roguishly. “I’m Giovanni. What’s your name, bella?”

She had been speechless, her dark eyes round as saucers as she gaped like a fish up at this young Italian who made butterflies take root inside her for the first time. He had been the most beautiful boy she had ever seen and he had only become more handsome as he had grown into a man. At twenty-seven, his soft jaw line had grown chiselled and strong, his soft hair had darkened and his eyes had lost some of their openness, becoming more seductive for the secrets they held. He had also kept that same Italian magnetism; throughout her adolescence Beatrice had been left in a giggling mess by those beguiling winks and smiles that had only become more intense and smooth over time. Tonight, that side of Giovanni was out in full force.

Clearly, Beatrice wasn’t the only one who found him beautiful. She watched, irritated, as the ladies around him laughed giddily, testing out Italian phrases under his instruction. It was a favourite tactic of his to captivate the ladies, one he had grown up practising on Beatrice. She’d blushed and stammered whilst his sensual lips sounded out the Italian words for “good morning.” She knew this routine well. Her brother was right, Giovanni had always been charming, but it was only when he had truly become a man that his flirtatiousness had begun to irritate her. Just as Beatrice was now firmly a debutante—a flower of society—Giovanni had cemented himself in the role of ladies man. She couldn’t help it—his teasing ways made her envious of the women who caught the twinkle in his eye, the slow rise of his exotic smile. Beatrice drank a little wine and turned away, noticing that Anna had slipped away from Lydia’s mother.

“Goodness, that woman has plans for her daughter!” Anna huffed, flapping her crimson fan. It was a perfect match for her crimson dress with golden beading. Silas had bought it for her as a special gift for her first ball. Silas looked at his wife with a radiant smile, the kind of smile Beatrice had rarely seen in their childhood together.

“Did you not enjoy Lady Loudwater’s company?” Silas laughed, slipping his arm around his wife’s waist with an ease that made Beatrice’s heart ache. How she yearned for that same ease with her future partner.

Anna shook her head, golden curls shining. “What are we speaking of?”

“We’re enjoying Giovanni’s performance,” Silas smiled, nodding towards his friend.

“Oh?” Anna slipped away from her husband’s side to link arms with Beatrice. She was instantly comforted by her sister-in-law’s strong, kind presence by her side, even if looking at Giovanni flirt was uncomfortable for her. She could see him now, brazenly allowing a blonde lady with silky hair to lay her hand on his arm with an arresting smile that made Beatrice feel like she had been punched in the gut.

“Are you alright, dear?” Anna asked, squeezing her arm. “You look a little flushed.”

“I am well,” Beatrice worried that her thoughts of Giovanni were beginning to show in her own face. Self-consciously she fluttered her white feather fan that was trimmed with gold leaf.

“Here he comes,” Silas grinned into his cup. “He looks a little flushed too, I must say.”

Beatrice jerked her head up in time to see Giovanni walking towards them, striding easily across the ballroom as if he were a duke, and not some Italian orphan picked up on the streets. He smiled as he approached them, puffing out his cheeks slightly and shaking his head.

“There’s a lot of call for the Italian parlour tricks tonight!” Giovanni laughed, joining them easily. Beatrice felt the subtle shift in their little unit of four as they stood together—now she felt safe, complete. All the people she cared most for were with her and safe. That was all that mattered to her.

“It’s always a winner, pulling out the Italian,” Silas said sarcastically, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Especially with ladies.”

“Indeed,” Giovanni laughed, toasting Silas with his own glass.

“You must not be struggling for dance partners tonight,” Anna said, smiling playfully at Giovanni.

“Sadly, no,” Giovanni shook his head, that handsome smile breaking over his face. “But I have managed to save a dance for Beatrice.”

Beatrice flushed and felt a flare of desire at the idea of dancing with Giovanni. She tried to look as if it was a matter of complete indifference to her.

“Of course, at least until my designated partner appears. Is it alright, Anna?”

Beatrice didn’t want to seem too eager, nor did she want to step on Anna’s plans.

“Yes, of course. We shall join you.” Anna turned to her husband, smiling. “Shall we all dance together, my dear?”

“I would enjoy that.” Silas smiled fondly at his wife. “It has been a while.”

Beatrice half wished that it was not a quartet dance as they took their places in a square, smiling at one another. She wondered how it would feel to dance a more intimate partner dance with Giovanni. He grinned at her playfully as they bowed and curtsied to one another, and Beatrice felt a thrilling mix of annoyance and excitement.

“So who is your lucky partner for this evening, bella?”

Beatrice’s mind snagged a little on the familiar nickname from her childhood and felt herself blush. Giovanni could always be relied on to make her feel special, though tonight she resented it a little.

“Viscount Milton,” Beatrice said, trying to keep her voice light. “You’ll not be short for partners either, I imagine.”

“I imagine not,” Giovanni laughed, the carefree sound making Beatrice smile. “Though none of them will be as delightful of you, Beatrice.”

Beatrice felt Giovanni squeeze her hand softly before letting it go, turning around to face Anna as Beatrice faced Silas. Beatrice wondered if she had imagined it.

“Are you well?” Silas asked. “You look flushed again.”

“I’m fine,” Beatrice snapped, trying not to draw attention to how flustered and strange Giovanni’s words and touch made her. Luckily, she didn’t need to speak to him for the rest of the dance, only coming back to stand opposite him as the dance ended. Still, it was as if his touch was burned into her hand. She noticed the way Giovanni was already winking at a girl standing nearby. Did he ever stop flirting? Before Beatrice could open her mouth to tell him to stop gawping like a youth, Anna had grabbed her arm.

“The viscount!” Anna hissed, her eyes darting through the clapping dancers. Beatrice turned to watch him approach. So did Giovanni.

“Ah, the viscount,” Giovanni spoke softly. His smile was broad but there was hesitation behind his eyes. He was staring at the incoming viscount with considerable suspicion—she knew that Giovanni was always cautious when new people were admitted into their close circle. For a moment, she thought she saw a slightly possessive glance flit across his face and her stomach lurched, but then it was gone. Just like that brief squeeze of the hand she thought she’d imagined, it was over, and he was backing away, eyes already fixed on that blonde woman. Maybe he did not care whom she danced with, or whom she married, especially with so many elegant ladies to simper over him. The thought made Beatrice feel hollow inside.

“Viscount Milton, allow me to introduce my sister, Miss Beatrice Klane,” Anna was saying, pulling Beatrice’s eyes away from the dark back of Giovanni’s head.

“I am charmed to make your acquaintance,” Lord Milton bowed low before Beatrice, with all the elegance of a man with incredibly high breeding.

“As am I,” Beatrice replied, curtseying respectfully. She recalled a time when she had first come out into society and the idea of curtseying before a viscount would have filled her with dread and uncertainty. Now it was second nature. She had lost count of the many curtsies, introductions, and first dances she had undertaken since coming out. They all blurred into one. The faces of eligible men, young and old, blending together, none of them shining so brightly as Giovanni’s. Yet Lord Milton was especially handsome.

He was the physical opposite of Giovanni—tall and willowy, with a soft, gentlemanly face, pale Saxon skin and reddish-golden hair. His eyes were pale blue but they twinkled with generous humour, and his smile was soft and seductive. Beatrice could see why Anna had selected him as a potential suitor.

“Might I have this dance, Miss Klane?” The Viscount asked.

Out of the corner of her eye, Beatrice could see Giovanni laughing with some gentlemen. A rather stunning red-headed woman had joined the group and was looking at him in fascination. Beatrice swallowed her envy and smiled at Lord Milton.

“I should like that,” she said, slipping her hand into his elbow and stepping towards the dance floor.

Chapter 2

“Who is that gentleman?” Giovanni asked Silas quietly, carefully watching Beatrice and Anna from afar. Beatrice was glowing. Beatrice was blessed with creamy, pale skin, but dark hair and eyes that were set off deliciously against the frosty white and warm gold of her gown. Giovanni knew it was a gown designed to make her look both alluring and tempting—Anna had chosen it so that Beatrice would look as appealing as possible to potential suitors, and it was clearly working. Wherever Giovanni looked around the room, gentlemen’s eyes were darting over towards Silas Klane’s sister as she smiled and laughed with her equally beautiful sister-in-law and the gentleman standing with her.

“Viscount Milton,” Silas answered, sipping his wine and watching his wife coordinate an introduction.

“What sort of man is he?” Giovanni asked, assessing the viscount carefully. To Giovanni, he looked like every other well-bred society gentleman—if perhaps particularly good looking—but Giovanni could see the way Beatrice smiled at him generously. It lit a flame of jealousy inside him. He wished he could look away, but she was too delightful to deny himself.

“A good man, by all reports,” Silas said. “Anna has done some careful research into his family, and she knows his mother relatively well.”

“And Mrs. Klane thinks he would be a good match for Beatrice?” Giovanni asked, trying not to sound awkward. He had known Beatrice for ten years, had been like another brother to her, but he had never really spoken to Silas about her prospects. No matter how close he and Silas were, no matter that Giovanni loved Silas as his own blood, the intricacies and politics of Beatrice’s marriage was something Giovanni had never been included in.

“He is wealthy, he has a proud lineage and title, he is young with a good reputation, no debts or vices to speak of,” Silas listed, each point making Giovanni feel resentful towards this dashing young suitor. “He would make a good husband for my sister.”

“If she likes him,” Giovanni added quietly, instantly regretting it. Silas had always been focused on how important it was for Beatrice’s future for her to marry a man of wealth, but sometimes he could be dismissive of Beatrice’s desire to marry a man she liked.

“Yes, of course,” Silas nodded. “But he is very well-liked. There is no reason why she shouldn’t.”

Giovanni loved his friend, would die in his service and fight his battles for him, but he couldn’t help but sometimes feel frustrated by his obsession with social standing. Giovanni understood, of course, that Silas had struggled brutally to achieve his status as the dreaded Lucifer of London. Silas believed that by marrying into a noble household, his sister would be finally and totally protected from any of the scrutiny that was attached to him. But it made Silas single-minded—he sometimes couldn’t see how high the standard was that he set for Beatrice.

“Beatrice is naturally guarded, Lucifer,” Giovanni said, cautiously trying to broach the topic. “She struggles to…to reveal her heart even to those in her family.”

“I know that,” Silas’s words were very soft, so he would not be overheard. “Especially after what happened to Anna.”

“Indeed,” Giovanni answered quietly, the two of them remembering together the terror and pain of Anna’s kidnapping two years prior. Giovanni knew that Silas still lived with the fear that something like that could happen again, but to Beatrice, or—God forbid—to his young son. Giovanni also felt that fear, but rather than  want to push Beatrice towards an attachment to someone wealthy who might protect her, Giovanni’s instinct was to hold Beatrice close, to protect her himself. The idea of her leaving Silas’s home and estate made him nervous. He just wished that Silas would feel the same. He tried to speak his thoughts again.

“With that in mind, should she not… be attached to someone she knows? Someone she trusts implicitly?”

“Gio, I would never bring someone into the family I did not trust,” Silas said quickly, reaching out to grasp Giovanni’s shoulder briefly. “I would never let anyone get close to us who I didn’t think would keep our secrets safe.”

On the one hand, Giovanni was glad that Silas didn’t suspect that his concern had more to do with wanting to keep Beatrice near to him, rather than protecting their old secrets. On the other, he was concerned that Silas had considered this so carefully already. How far had Silas and Anna discussed this match? Was this young viscount already preparing a proposal?

“And you think Lord Milton might be that man?” Giovanni asked, his mouth dry. “You’ve decided that he is appropriate?”

“I think he could be,” Silas said cautiously. Giovanni took a sliver of hope from his words. So Silas was not entirely sure of this man. Nothing was set in stone.

“You are not sure?” Giovanni asked, hoping to confirm his thoughts.

“I will be,” Silas said confidently, dashing Giovanni’s small hopes. “In time. Beatrice needs time to grow to know him, to be comfortable with him. I should never want my sister to marry a man she was not comfortable with. That much is a requirement.”

But you do not require her to love him, Giovanni thought to himself. He could not say it aloud. Even though Giovanni and Silas had always been able to be honest with one another—Giovanni had never held back from serving Silas some honest truths when it was necessary—this was one thing that he would never be able to share with Silas. His feelings towards Beatrice needed to be buried deep down inside. Silas had saved his life; Giovanni owed him everything. He would never jeopardize the family he had made here in England with the Klane’s. Besides, having Beatrice in his life, even if she only thought of him as a second brother, was better than nothing.

“Here comes my wife,” Silas said softly, “it seems Beatrice must like him at least a little.”

Giovanni turned to watch Anna detaching from Beatrice and her suitor as the music for dancing started up. Giovanni’s hand clenched around his brandy glass as he looked at Beatrice’s hand holding onto Lord Milton’s arm. It seemed the entire room was watching the young eligible couple moving forward to take their place at the head of the dancers. Giovanni noticed the twitching fans of the older women, the envious eyes of the young lords and ladies.

“She’s accepted him for two dances,” Anna said breathlessly, quickly slipping her arm into Silas’s, flushing a sweet pink that matched the crimson of her gown. “Two dances! That must be a good sign!”

“Indeed it must,” Silas responded, patting his wife’s hand at his elbow. Giovanni’s heart clenched at this impossibly intimate and sweet gesture between two people who loved one another dearly. It was that kind of familiarity with a partner than he longed for; a lover with whom he could share the passion of his body and the minutiae of his life. Watching Silas find it with Anna had been both encouraging and revealing; now he knew true love was possible. Now he couldn’t settle for less.

“Must it not, Gio?” Silas asked, smiling at his friend.

“I think it must,” Giovanni said, though the words stuck in his throat.

“Oh, she is the belle of the ball!” Anna sighed, her eyes following her sister appreciatively. “I am so glad I persuaded her to wear that dress. It is perfect on her.”

“Indeed, you have done very well with her, my love,” Silas said. Anna had been in charge of steering Beatrice’s entrance into society since she and Silas had wed. It was a good thing, too, for Silas and Giovanni would not have had a clue between them. Anna, with her excellent background and connections, had certainly aided the Klane family’s advancement in the Ton.

“Oh, it is all Beatrice’s doing,” Anna said, flapping her fan but smiling happily. “Even though she dislikes society, she has persisted with it, and has been rewarded indeed—despite a bumpy start. Why, she has more suitors than I did when I first came out.”

“Oh, I can only imagine,” Silas teased, rolling his eyes at Giovanni. It was a long-standing joke that while Anna had been a jewel of society, she had married beneath her in accepting Silas. What might have caused resentment and bitterness had blossomed into deep love and the advancement of both their families for the better. “I’m sure your dance card was positively overflowing, my love.”

“Stop it, Silas!” Anna swatted her husband playfully with her fan, her eyes drawn back to Beatrice again. “Oh, she dances so elegantly. And look how eagerly they prepare for the second,” she whispered.

Anna was not wrong, Giovanni noticed. Beatrice was laughing gently with her partner as they applauded the musicians at the finish of the dance. She looked to be enjoying herself. The notion stung Giovanni, and he sipped his wine, trying to distract himself by smiling flirtatiously at a red-headed woman who had been quite forward with him earlier. Her blushes and fluttering eyelids were little consolation when Beatrice was in his line of sight, glowing like a summer flower.

“I can simply not get used to all these gentlemen watching my baby sister with such fascination,” Silas sighed heavily. “It’s always terribly odd, isn’t it Gio?”

Giovanni nodded without thinking. It was odd for Gio, but not in the way that Silas meant. When he saw Beatrice, it was hard for him not to see her as she was at home, as she had always been before she came out into society. When he closed his eyes he could still see her with her hair loose and flowing in the wind, a laughing smile on her face as she ran across the grounds at Fallenbrook, chasing after Silas’ dogs. For Giovanni, Beatrice had always been all playfulness and lightness, an oasis of uncomplicated, innocent joy that he had always been thoroughly charmed by. He had always had a soft spot in his heart for Silas’s young sister, had always enjoyed the sweet flirtation they had shared together, her wholesome blushes. It was only since she had come out into society that those feelings of tenderness had deepened into something else. Yet now, unlike Silas, it was impossible for him to look at her without seeing the elegant young woman that everyone else in the room saw.

Beatrice was the most beautiful lady in the room. The characteristic playfulness and acerbic disdain that Giovanni knew Beatrice carried for the façades of society were carefully tucked away behind a tidy veneer of ladylike softness and propriety. Her wild, flowing hair was tamed into a stylish arrangement—piled on her head, with curls falling elegantly across her brow and behind her ears to reveal the long tapering of her white, alabaster neck. She was glowing. One might be fooled, Giovanni thought, into thinking it was merely a trick of the gold thread sewn into the white satin of her gown, or the sparkling diamonds at her throat or in her earrings, but it wasn’t. She was stunning. She always had been, but now everyone could see it.

“Her dancing has greatly improved,” Anna commented in a whisper. The music was slower this time, more reflective, and a quieter hush had briefly fallen over the room as everyone watched, mesmerized by the elegant, circling couples.

Beatrice and the viscount were at the top of the line of dancers, directly in front of Giovanni. He tried his best not to look at Beatrice, not to admire the soft shine of pale skin and the beautiful outline of her body, not to catch her eye in any way, but he failed. Beatrice’s eyes were like the catch of a fishing hook, and as he attempted brush his gaze casually past her, his own eyes snagged on them. For a moment, he was sure there was a spark of recognition, that his Beatrice—the girl beneath the glitter and finery that he knew so well and cared for so deeply—was staring back at him and seeing his true self underneath. It was as if she knew that those hidden compliments, the secret squeeze of her hand in the dance, was all concealing the deep attraction he felt for her. She could feel it; he knew it in his bones.

Then it was gone. In the blink of an eye she had turned away, the dance had finished and the dancers were once again applauding the musicians. It was like he had imagined it.

She didn’t see me, Giovanni thought to himself, automatically clapping along with the others. He turned and took a long sip of wine, trying to calm himself down. It didn’t happen.

“Well,” Silas muttered beside him. “That’s a turn up for the books.”

“Oh my!” Anna gasped. “That’s a very good sign!”

Giovanni turned back, following their gazes back to the couple on the dance floor. His stomach lurched as he watched them leaving, arm in arm, walking towards the relative privacy of the terrace, undoubtedly for a more intimate conversation.

Not on my watch, Giovanni thought, setting his wine glass back down.

“I shall go to work, Lucifer,” he said quietly, using his position as the family bodyguard as a welcome cover for following the couple.

“Thank you, Gio,” Silas said, smiling trustingly. He had no idea that inside Giovanni’s heart was a flame of anger and envy that was beginning to burn with even more fury. “Give them plenty of room.”

“Of course,” Giovanni said. Then he turned and made his way towards the terrace with the intention of doing no such thing.

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