The Courtship of Julian St. Albans (8 page)

First into the intimately arranged little niche
was George Entwistle, who had also been down near Emmeline at dinner. There was
a pause as they all watched the pantomime of Julian with his first suitor, and
then conversation resumed, though in truth everyone had at least one eye on the
prize, such as he was.

“I saw you getting chummy with young
Julian at dinner,” said Chudleigh, catching Alex at the bar waiting for
his refill.

Alex gave him a wolfish grin that was only
mostly faked. “Wouldn’t you have?”

Chudleigh laughed. “At any possible
opportunity, mate, he’s a lovely little slip of a thing, just the sort I like.
Though I hadn’t figured you for the masterly sort, to go a-Courting.”

“As you say, he’s a lovely young man, and
his invitation was too intriguing to pass up,” said Alex with a shrug,
trying for nonchalantly confident and hoping he didn’t look like too much of an
arse.

The bartender handed Alex his drink, and Alex
had to resist the urge to tip; the man was a servant in the St. Albans home,
and would be given a bonus by the household if they deemed it fitting. Alex
saluted the bartender, and then Chudleigh, and made his winding way toward
Emmeline, who seemed to be trapped by Willoughby.

“Ms. Fitzhugh, your drink is nearly
empty,” said Alex, stepping into the conversation.

Willoughby looked annoyed, but took his cue
like a proper gentleman. “Let me refill that for you,” he said, not
bothering to ask what it was before stalking off. If the bartender couldn’t
remember what his employer was drinking tonight, he wasn’t doing his job.

“And so to my rescue once again,” she
said with a wry chuckle. “At this rate, Julian will think I’m trying to
steal you.”

Alex laughed. “I’m afraid your charms,
while charming in an abstract sense, aren’t enough to distract me from my main
quarry.” He wiggled his eyebrows toward Julian, who seemed to be nearly
done talking to Entwistle, and glad to see the poor man go.

Emmeline laughed as she’d been meant to, then
followed his gaze with a sigh. “So much of this first round is about
inviting and charming the people that society thinks he ought.”

“But soon enough he’ll be allowed to keep
only those with whom he’s made a real connection,” said Alex, then he
asked quietly. “Are you worried he’ll choose obligation over affection
because he’s still in mourning?”

“It had occurred to me,” she said,
then chuckled. “I can tell he’s enjoyed favouring his black sheep,
though.”

Alex inclined his head in acknowledgment of the
apt nickname. “At least I’m not one to butt heads,” he said, watching
as Willoughby made his way back over to them.

She chuckled wryly. “That’s not what I’ve
heard,” she teased, making it sound flirtatious, though Alex suspected
that was just to annoy Willoughby. “Thank you,” she said, accepting
the drink from him with a polite smile.

“Getting the inside track on the next St.
Albans Courtship, Benedict?” asked Willoughby.

“Nonsense,” said Alex. “I’ve
already got the inside track on this one.” This time he didn’t bother
looking nonchalant, just confident, and he rather thought Emmeline would
forgive him for looking like a bit of an arse.

“I’d heard you were all for the blokes,
anyway,” said Chilcott, stepping into the conversation with a knowing
smirk.

Alex just shrugged. “It’s true, not even
Ms. Fitzhugh’s wit and charm could sway me.”

“I take it you gentlemen are both more
open in your preferences?” asked Emmeline, expression politely interested,
though her eyes were sparkling with mischief. “Julian is very keen on
monogamy, you know.”

“As he should be,” said Chilcott
stuffily. “I would never tolerate a spouse who strayed, especially not a
consort.”

“I believe she was referring to the
master’s fidelity,” said Willoughby. “Which of course is also
traditional and expected.”

“Do they really still call them that,
masters to the consort?” asked Alex. “I’d thought husband would be
the more modern term.” He took a healthy swig of his water, watching the
men look thoughtful. The fun of sparkling water was people often assumed it had
other things in it, but he wanted to clear his head after the wine-rich dinner,
not muddle it with further alcohol.

Chilcott looked faintly appalled and said,
“A consort’s Courtship is not a particularly modern undertaking.”

“I believe Julian intends to invoke the
traditional vows,” said Emmeline with a sigh. “Or, at least he did
with Cecil. Who knows, now.”

“I’m sure whoever he chooses will be
worthy of the honour,” said Willoughby, with a tone that suggested that he
of course meant himself.

Entwistle finally gave up his place, and a
servant leaned in, then went to fetch the next candidate, this time a
nervous-looking man named Grover Barnes whom Alex privately thought was more
suited to being a consort than having one.

The whole room seemed to share a breath, and
then talk started up once again. “This part’s a bit like seeing who’ll be
picked for sports teams in school, except that we all want to be left for
last,” said Alex, amused.

George Entwistle collected a drink from the
bartender and downed a great deal of it before making his way over to their
little group. “I wanted to thank you for the delightful conversation at
dinner, Ms. Fitzhugh.”

“It’s quite rare that I meet another
person as interested in hand-painted porcelain as I am,” she said with a
genuine smile.

That was the cue for Chilcott and Willoughby to
drift away, and after a few minutes of listening to them discuss the various
ways to preserve such antiques, Alex allowed himself to slip away as well.

The next hour passed much the same way, with
half a dozen suitors having conversations of varying lengths with poor Julian,
who looked more trapped with each one. Julian took a break after the first
seven, disappearing through a door somewhere and reminding Alex that he’d had a
lot to eat and drink in the past few hours. Once Julian was back in place with
the eighth suitor, none other than Phineas O’Connor, Alex got a servant to
direct him to the facilities.

He couldn’t linger long and risk missing his own
cue, but once he’d taken care of things and made sure he was all straightened
up, Alex slipped a tiny tuning fork out of his pocket and sat on the plush
loveseat this bathroom boasted. He pulled out the watch fob as well, laying it
in the curl of his palm and feeling his senses begin to sharpen, opened up by
the charm’s deep magic. He struck the tuning fork against his palm and then
laid the end against the meat of his thumb, which never failed to ground him
and open up his magical senses.

Alex let himself drift aimlessly through the
house’s background noise, recognising several of the larger wards as he picked
them out of the cacophony as ones he’d already heard when he was here before.
The room he was in had a number of little charms on it, for cleanliness and to
gently discourage guests from lingering — that one sounded to his inner ear like
tin cups jangling against each other. There was a phial of potion in the
medicine cupboard, a cheap but effective sobering solution that seemed to be nearing
its expiration date. That one had a faint, bright melody, like a brass band to
wake the senses from their stupor.

There was a faint memory of the cleaning staff
amongst the other music, no one Alex had met but definitely people, all the
same. At least one of the other suitors had been in here as well, someone with
a lot of magic on his person, and those traces, too, added to the din. As Alex
catalogued each thread of music or dissonance, he could dismiss them from his
attention and go deeper, finding the subtler, more pervasive spells lurking
beneath.

The whole house had been given a gentle
blessing for luck and prosperity some time ago, and the glow of it was nearly
faded. Alex made a note to arrange for it to be renewed as a wedding present,
should Julian still be speaking to him after he solved his mystery and dropped
out of the Courtship.

Beneath that there was the spell he’d been
looking for, a thin, buzzing sound that reminded him of bees, ordered but not
in any way his human mind could normally process. What bothered him most was
how familiar it seemed, once he got past the feel of it that raised hairs on
the back of his neck. It was like a face he couldn’t quite remember, or having
a word on the tip of his tongue that he just couldn’t quite call forth. He
hummed along for a few moments, but that only made the feeling worse, so he let
it go, stilling the tuning fork and whistling a quick little mind-clearing
cantrip.

He stood and glanced around the room, made sure
everything on his person was in order from watch to waistcoat, then let the
jangling tin-can spell urge him back out to the party. Another suitor had taken
O’Connor’s place, Leslie Winston-Smythe, who’d been seated on Willoughby’s
other side. “Poor Julian’s got to be just about exhausted after all of
this,” said Alex idly.

The bartender looked surprised to be spoken to
as something other than a vending machine. “Master Julian will appreciate
the three days’ grace before the first date, I’m sure.”

Alex smiled to himself and nodded. “Is he not
much of a party boy, then?”

The bartender chuckled fondly. “Nah, our
Julian always was a homebody, picking apples and eating them in the
library.”

“I always liked the window seat up on the
third floor, where no one went but me and the maids,” said Alex, amused,
“though I filched my snacks from the kitchen.”

The bartender chuckled. “I bet you charmed
‘em, you’ve got that way about you,” he said, and Alex glanced back to
find the man was looking him over. Subtly, but the admiration was there, and
Alex blushed a little.

“Sometimes, though the head chef never
liked me much,” admitted Alex. He might have said more, but it was time
for another suitor. Every eye watched the remaining four men as the servant
made his way to Auggie Duckworth, and Winston-Smythe made his way to the bar
for another drink, which seemed to be an unspoken tradition.

Alex winked at the bartender and took his
leave, but he had plenty of food for thought — it was clear that Julian was
much loved among the long-time staff, and not much more for high society than
Alex himself. That cut down on the number of people who might have known Julian
well enough to believe that their chances of winning him were good enough to
kill for.

CHAPTER
8

In Which the Evening Comes to a Close

Duckworth spent a good long time with Julian,
and was looking much happier than his predecessors when he left, though
Chudleigh’s good mood had also proved unassailable despite his early position.
Alex tensed as the servant came in his direction, though third was quite a
respectable place for someone with virtually no status in society to be
placated.

Alex let out the breath he’d been holding when
it was Willoughby that the man tapped, earning Alex a glare from several of the
men, Willoughby included.

“Looks like it’s just
you and me left,” said Pembroke, sidling up to him.

Alex took a swallow of his water and considered
the idea of gin. “A black sheep and a golden child,” he said, amused.
“Quite the pair.”

Pembroke inclined his head, acknowledging the
description. He was the second son, but very much a favoured one, from what
Flora had said. Her information, while long-winded, was usually reliable, at
least so long as she wasn’t directly involved.

“Who do you think will
be last?” asked Pembroke, sounding quite smug.

Alex couldn’t help but laugh. “It won’t be
me, I’m shocked I made it this far. Willoughby can’t be pleased to be third to
my second.”

“Your participation has been a surprise
all along, so really, why should this be any different?” said Pembroke,
his tone insinuating.

Alex took another sip of his drink and watched
as Willoughby’s annoyance faded in the face of Julian’s charm, then he
shrugged. “Perhaps Julian just likes to keep you all on your toes.”

He didn’t feel he’d get a better exit line from
this conversation, so Alex downed the rest of his water and went over to the
bartender for another refill. He wasn’t allowed to stay out of it this time,
however; Duckworth walked up as soon as he stepped away from the bar.
“You’ve made quite an impression on our young man,” he said. “I
wasn’t aware you moved in these circles much.”

“I don’t,” said Alex, hoping he
didn’t look as trapped as he felt. “I met Julian in the course of
Mandeville’s murder investigation.”

Duckworth looked delightedly scandalised that
Alex would say such a thing so bluntly. “So you’re the dark hero,
then.”

Alex looked down at his black-on-black clothing
and the pale skin of his hands and shrugged. “Not so dark as all
that,” he said.

“But quite mysterious,” said one of
the early picks, Standish Flynn, coming up to join their conversation. “No
one knows much about what you’ve been up to since leaving school.”

“I expect they haven’t felt me
relevant,” said Alex, starting to get annoyed, though he knew that sizing
up the competition was only to be expected. He just hadn’t counted on being
considered much competition so quickly.

Standish laughed, a polite, snooty sort of
laugh that grated on Alex’s nerves. “Well, you’re relevant now. It’ll be
all they can talk about that you got so far in the standings.”

“Must we talk about this Courtship as
though it were a horse race and we were all prime studs looking for a
jockey?” asked Alex, his voice pained.

They both laughed at that, and Alex had no idea
whether it was a good or bad thing.

There was more conversation along that vein,
though it was mostly a blur for Alex, who couldn’t seem to tear his attention
away from where Julian and Willoughby sat, bodies tilted toward one another and
Willoughby’s hand laid gently atop Julian’s on the small table.

It was a relief this time when the servant came
for Alex, leading him to Julian and the strange muffled silence of the privacy
spell.

“So, what have you been drinking all
night?” asked Julian, his smile a bit tired though his eyes held genuine
interest.

“I’m quite boring,” said Alex,
offering him the glass. “It’s just water with lime and mint.”

Julian laughed delightedly. “And they’re
all out there thinking you’ve about drunk them under the table, I bet.”

Alex chuckled with him.
“Perhaps,” he allowed. “What about you?”

Julian grinned. “Irish coffee,” he
said, taking a sip of the potent brew. “But they keep bringing me water to
alternate so I don’t go promising what I don’t really want to deliver.”

“Perhaps I should have brought you the
sobering potion hiding in your guest bathroom,” said Alex, teasing.

“You went
snooping!” said Julian, but he seemed to like the idea.

Alex shrugged. “The bathroom was quiet, so
I did a little listening. It’s about to lose its potency, though,” he
said. He cocked his head and added, “It’s really quiet in here, this is a
good spell, I can’t hear anything but the magic we’ve got on us.” That
also meant that whatever that thread of subtle evil was that he’d picked out
earlier, it wasn’t on Julian’s person, but originated somewhere in the house
proper.

“Are you really only here for the
investigation?” asked Julian, eyes shrewd.

Alex found himself blushing just the tiniest
bit and he took one of Julian’s hands, acutely aware of the echo of
Willoughby’s earlier gesture. “If I just wanted to investigate, I could
have asked you to get me past your guardians when we were writing,” he
said, which was mostly the truth. It wouldn’t have let him observe the way he
had tonight, but he might have learned a thing or two that would be hidden now
that he was a Suitor.

Julian looked very pleased indeed by that
answer and Alex relaxed just a bit. “Good,” he said. “Now, tell
me about your life, while I have you alone.”

Alex chuckled. “What do you wish to
know?” he asked, wondering how his mundane life might seem to someone as
sheltered as Julian.

“What do you do when you’re not
detecting?” asked Julian, hand still in Alex’s and his head tilted in a
flirty, almost feminine manner.

Alex could suddenly see why they all saw him
and thought consort rather than husband. He swallowed and answered carefully,
“Well, I make magic, I study magic, I read terrible detective novels so my
handler, Agent Lapointe, can get the joy out of telling me how they get it all
wrong.”

“And is this Agent my rival for your
affections as well as your time?” asked Julian, and Alex couldn’t miss the
sharp edge.

Fortunately, he could laugh. “Murielle
isn’t my type,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m all for the boys, as they
say.”

“Good,” said
Julian, with a satisfied look. “I am, too.”

“And you’ve got your choice of the cream
of society, plus me, of course,” said Alex with a chuckle.

A shadow passed over Julian’s eyes. “At
least I’ve got some choice left to me,” he said, sounding more bitter than
Alex would have expected.

“You did choose to declare yourself a
consort,” pointed out Alex, feeling as though he’d missed something vital.

“I declared myself Cecil’s consort,”
said Julian. “And then, only after he’d begun to take up the reins of
business and responsibility. I chose him; not the life of
a
consort, but the life of
his
consort. And now I’m doing a Courtship, because that’s the last choice left to
me.”

Alex drew Julian’s hand up to his and kissed
the back. “You’ll find a man here who’s worthy of you,” he said, not
thinking for just a moment about how he was still among the candidates.
“It will be difficult and dark sometimes, but there will be joy again,
even without your first love.”

Julian looked up at Alex with the full weight
of his grief in those stormy blue eyes. “Even though it feels like I’ll never
really be happy again?”

Alex turned over his hand and laid the softest
of kisses in the palm before bringing it down to cradle in both of his own.
“Even though, there will be happiness again, just as your Cecil would want
you to have.”

Julian chuckled at that, though his eyes were
suspiciously bright. “He would have, you know. Cecil always wanted me to
be happy, above everything else. It’s part of why I agreed to become his
consort, so he could always take care of me.”

“And you’ll find a man who wants that
among this crowd, not everyone is here just for lands and titles and
money,” said Alex.

“You’re not, anyway,” said Julian
wryly. “I’m not so sure about the rest of them.”

Alex chuckled. “Give it some time, Julian,
they’re all nervous now, and trying to put on the best face. Wait until they’ve
got you alone and in their element, and you’ll see more personality.”

“I should hope so,” said Julian, and
Alex had to laugh at the disgust in his tone.

“Now, now, they can’t be as bad as all
that,” said Alex. “Besides, if you can’t decide who to keep, you can
always hold a Masquerade.”

Julian looked surprised, then very pleased at
the idea. “You’re right, I’d forgotten about that option. At least that
way I’d get some kissing in.”

“Let’s hope your sister forgives me for
the strain on the household budget,” teased Alex. “Tonight’s dinner
was masterful, by the way, I had missed really fine food. I mostly eat takeaway
curry these days.”

“I won’t tell her the Masquerade was your
idea if you don’t,” said Julian. “Now, I have a few days before I
send out the invites to tea, and one of the things it’s polite to ask is what
sort of tea you’d like.”

Alex cocked his head, trying to remember the
options from his childhood, and then he grinned. “I’d like a picnic in
your orchards,” he said, “if it pleases you, of course.”

Julian’s smile was soft but also thoughtful
this time, as though he’d just realised that Alex, too, was paying attention to
all the tiny hints and preferences that Julian let drop. “An orchard
picnic it shall be, though Emmy might demand to join us so you don’t compromise
my integrity too soon.”

“Oh, I don’t know, she seemed to think you
ought to be taking us all out for a ride,” said Alex teasingly.

Julian laughed and hid his blushing face.
“Oh, don’t remind me!” he protested.

“Now, I already have something in mind for
your first gift, but I know I’m supposed to ask what you could possibly want
that isn’t already provided,” said Alex, changing the subject awkwardly.

Julian giggled, sitting up and taking a healthy
swig of his doctored coffee. “I’d very much like to see what you have in
mind, it’s bound to be more interesting than a charmed paperweight.”

“Is that what that was?” asked Alex,
though of course he’d already known from his magical appraisal of the gifts that
it was charmed to keep papers safely under itself until the owner’s hand freed
them for perusal.

They chatted a little longer about nothing of
importance, though Alex gathered up each little tidbit of information for
future reference. He had his second gift already, but part of the task of a
suitor was to provide a series of gifts, each more thoughtful and personal, to
show that the suitor not only listened to what Julian had to say, but cared
enough to cater to those tastes.

After another bout of giggling, Julian sighed.
“One to go,” he said, and he didn’t sound like he was looking nearly
so forward to it as Alex thought he should be.

“You won’t have to go by prestige much
longer,” said Alex, kissing Julian’s fingertips and finding them soft and
warm against his lips, with just a whiff of some cologne applied hours earlier.
“You can choose according to your heart, Julian.” He paused and
grinned wryly. “Even if that’s not me.”

“Even if that’s not you, you’ve made
tonight more bearable,” said Julian, “and I won’t forget that.”
He leaned in and kissed Alex on the cheek, a sign of great favour indeed that
put Alex to the blush.

Alex stood and gave Julian’s hand one last
squeeze, then took a swig of his forgotten drink and shot him a wink. “I
wouldn’t have borne it at all but for you,” said Alex, and then he stepped
out into the room, steeling himself for the inevitable deluge.

This time, when he visited the bartender, he
gave in and got a gin and tonic. He had a feeling he was going to need it, with
the way the rest of the suitors were hovering.

“Lucky Pembroke,” said Chudleigh with
his affable grin, the first to approach Alex, “but lucky you as well. A
kiss for luck, in fact.”

“Sometimes it’s better to be comforting
than clever,” said Alex, though really he had no idea what he’d been,
other than a slightly more polite version of himself. He took a drink and
paused to enjoy the high quality of the gin.

That is, if he was going to be allowed, which
seemed unlikely. Willoughby sidled up to him and said in a rather snide tone,
“I see you’ve got an in with our little fox.”

“Do you fancy yourself a hound,
then?” asked Alex, though it was one of the terms sometimes used for the
man being courted in such a situation. Alex had always found it uncomfortable,
given what usually happened to foxes on a hunt.

“Oh, Willoughby’s an infamous hound,”
said Chudleigh with a grin that showed some intelligence under the ridiculously
cheerful exterior. “You’d have to curb that for our Julian, wouldn’t you?
He wants a proper consort bond, no straying.”