The Courtship of Julian St. Albans

by Crook, Amy

  Alex reminded himself that he didn’t need to be first, he just needed to not be last, and let it stand.

  He was mostly quiet, standing at Julian’s side as the men chattered around him, listening with his other senses when he could. That sneaky thread was here somewhere, he could hear the tinny melody, but it was hiding under so much from his own enchanted watch fob to the still-intact house wards that it was just as hard to pinpoint as it had been the last time.

  “I’m sorry?” said Alex, when he realised they were all looking for him.

  Julian giggled, sounding terribly young for a moment. “Flynn asked you if you were still working for a living,” he said.

  “Ah,” said Alex, clearing his throat. “Yes, though my family has chosen to back me in this matter.” He knew there would be gossip about how a mere magical consultant could afford such things as Alex’s gift, which was rare both in enchantment and the size and quality of the pearls, and he felt it best to head it off.

  “I’d heard you had a falling out with old Victor, how is he?” asked one of the other suitors.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” said Alex, cocking his head.

  That prompted a cascade of introductions, though most of the men already knew each other from school or any of the hundreds of absurd social functions they’d attended in their lifetimes. Alex had always hidden in the coat check room whenever possible, at least until it got late enough that the coat check room grew busy with more adult visitors.

  It turned out that George Entwistle had shared a room with Victor at school one year, which led to polite gossip about everyone’s family until the next suitor showed up.

  Eventually, all thirteen suitors were there — some early, some fashionably late, but all of them determined to make a good impression. All the other men but Willoughby had chosen the rich, luxurious colours that were fashionable this year, jewel tones chosen to make eyes sparkle, skin look richer, and bring out the highlights in their hair. Cravats were impeccably tied and pinned, cuffs always French with a glimmer of fine cufflinks, and quality watches checked at every opportunity. Most of the hands held rings, though none had their own signet — no head of household would be in this Courtship, because they’d be expected to take up the reins of the St. Albans household instead, so there were a number of second, third and even fifth sons in the mix.

  Alex found it all very tiring, just as he’d known he would, so he distracted himself trying to match the discarded gifts to their givers, and when that was too easy, to discern everything he could from the soft songs each man carried with him, made up of his own personal aura and the enchantments he wore, the places he lived and had recently been, and the lingering residue of any magic they’d used recently.

  “And how are you enjoying the party?” asked one of the men, John Pembroke. He’d been there when Alex arrived, and seemed supremely confident, something Alex couldn’t lay claim to.

  Alex shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. “I am here for Julian,” he said, as if that would explain everything.

  Pembroke chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it, though a dozen of you will end up back out in the cold after I’ve won him.”

  “Confident, aren’t you?” asked Alex, amused. Pembroke was one of the most heavily bespelled men there, from the anti-wrinkle charms on his clothing to the cacophony of personal care potions that kept his hair thick and soft, his skin clear and unlined; even his fingernails had the sheen of magic.

  Pembroke shrugged. “It doesn’t pay to be uncertain in this game,” he said, slapping Alex on the shoulder. “Then again, you’re the only mage among us.”

  “The only working mage,” corrected Alex. Auggie Duckworth had been in Alex’s year at school, and they’d both had magical tutoring, as Alex was sure was true of several of the others.

  “You’re more up on the gossip than your reputation would suggest,” said Pembroke, looking intrigued.

  “I trust my senses,” said Alex, stepping away from him to slip into the circle of admirers around Julian once more.

  “And then he opened his hands, and there was a small glowing bubble that popped in a shower of sparks,” one suitor was saying, his voice and face full of a joy that seemed entirely genuine. Lucas Chudleigh was one of those original hail-fellow-well-met sorts, full of the mead of life and happy to share, and a part of Alex thought he might make a good match for the moody Julian.

  Of course, Alex had no real idea what Julian was like when he wasn’t beset with tragedy on all sides.

  “Were the boys impressed?” asked Julian, sharing in Chudleigh’s delight the same way he’d shared in everyone’s stories, putting all of himself into the interaction with only a small part held back for grief.

  Chudleigh chuckled. “I was, of course, but no, the rest of them had been seeing magic all their lives and were too busy showing each other how very jaded they were to enjoy the wonder of it.”

  Alex whistled a soft little tune, and the air filled with butterflies, made of soft green and gold light, which came to settle on Chudleigh, though one did wander its way to Julian’s knee and turn a soft, sad blue.

  Chudleigh grinned. “You see? There’s always something to wonder at, if you let yourself,” he said, as if Alex’s little show was making his point for him. Having missed the start of the conversation, Alex thought perhaps it was.

  He brought the music up in a little trill and the butterflies flew up and away, even the blue one, not showering sparks or turning to flowers but just flying up and up and up, further than the room could possibly hold until they were lost from sight.

  It wasn’t until they were gone that the others began to look for the culprit, though a sly look from Julian showed that he, at least, had noticed Alex’s whistling.

  “An excellent show,” said Pembroke behind him, clapping in a way that was just barely not mocking, edging on the side of good sportsmanship. “Illusion’s harder than it looks.”

  “It depends on where your talents lie,” said Alex, who had always found that it took a highly creative and focused mind to create illusions, not to mention a sense of whimsy that seemed out of keeping with Pembroke’s personality.

  Julian clapped as well, his hands moving considerably faster, which started all the men clapping as they clued in that Alex was the mage in question.

  Alex made a courtly bow to Julian and then to Chudleigh, saying, “I didn’t mean to steal your spotlight, merely illustrate your point.”

  “I don’t mind one bit, it was a lovely show, wasn’t it, John?” Chudleigh was looking at Pembroke with a puppyish familiarity.

  “Quite,” said Pembroke, though there was a smile in his eyes as he looked at Chudleigh that spoke to Alex of friendship.

  The conversation might have drifted off again, but Godfrey arrived to announce dinner, and off they went to the grand dining room for the next set of tests.

  ~ ~ ~

  Place cards had already been laid; Julian of course took the head of the table, and his sister Emmeline Fitzhugh was just seating herself at the foot when Godfrey brought the men in. She was just as small and slight as her brother, but her complexion was sun-kissed and her hair a much lighter strawberry blonde. Her dress was black with the whole household in mourning for its lost member, and the fashionable frock was decorated with jet beads that sparkled under the chandeliers.

  “Welcome to our home, gentlemen,” she said, gesturing for them to find their places.

  Many of them seemed to have a sense of where they belonged already, so Alex hung back, surprised when the last empty spot was at Julian’s left hand — he’d put Pembroke on the right, in the most favoured position, but closer to Julian was always better.

  “The setting is beautiful,” said Alex as he sat, looking out over the array of crystal, china and silver all glittering in the light from several antique chandeliers. “Is it heirloom?”

  “Most of it,” said Julian. “Emmy chose what to use tonight, I think she said something ab
out buying new goblets because we didn’t have enough of the family crystal.”

  “It all goes as if designed together,” said Alex, just loud enough that the compliment would carry.

  Ms. Fitzhugh nodded in acknowledgement, and Alex felt something in him relax just a little, knowing that he hadn’t yet managed to commit any huge social gaffes.

  Of course, there was a whole meal ahead of them full of opportunities.

  There was a chime of compliments going down the table, as though Alex had set off some sort of chain reaction. As if that was some sort of signal, a whole army of white-gloved servants appeared and began to dismantle the display of china and crystal in front of each person, until there was an empty spot which was soon enough filled with a plate of hors d’oeuvres.

  There were three different items displayed carefully on the long rectangular plate, each with a paintbrush-smear of sauce next to it. At the left, there was a large china spoon with something inside, some sort of single-bite treat in a sauce that matched its curving brushstroke; in the middle was a curl of raw tuna dotted with green wasabi-infused caviar, surrounded with a Zen circle of some sort of thick, brown sauce; last was a puff of pastry resting atop a straight, wide stroke of something richly red-brown.

  It all looked delicious, and Alex hoped he could manage to eat without embarrassing himself.

  Water and wine were also poured, and everyone waited patiently, napkins properly in laps, until Julian himself lifted up his spoon and gracefully downed its contents. “Mmm,” he said happily, licking a stray drop of sauce from pink lips.

  Alex had to swallow for a moment, before he lifted his own spoon and tried to emulate Julian’s grace. The treat proved to be a mussel in a warm, beefy broth with fresh herbs atop it, smooth and delightful on the palate. “Delicious,” he said, licking his own lips to get the last taste of the rich broth.

  Julian looked quite pleased. “It’s one of my favourites,” he said with a grin. “We got them at a restaurant one night, Cecil and I, and I pestered the chefs for weeks until they figured out the recipe.”

  “It was well worth the effort,” said Willoughby, who was sitting at Pembroke’s right.

  Rather than participate in the ensuing barrage of compliments, Alex used his outermost fork to smear the tuna in its circle of sauce. The fish was perfectly chilled and the thick tamari soy sauce rich and sweet, with the spicy tobiko popping as he chewed. This bite was both delicious in and of itself, and a palate cleanser after the richness of the first miniature dish.

  “Mmmm,” said Julian, enjoying his own mouthful unabashedly. There was a natural sensuality to him that led Alex’s imagination to places inappropriate for a man supposedly investigating a murder. Here in this glittering room, surrounded by the very society he’d long eschewed, Alex was starting to feel as though it was all a dream, or a very bad idea indeed.

  “Your chef has an excellent sense of pacing,” said someone down the table; Whitby Chilcott, Alex thought.

  “He has been with the family for many years,” said Ms. Fitzhugh, to whom he was closer, though he had been addressing Julian.

  That was their cue to break into smaller conversational groups, which Alex avoided for a bit longer by spearing his puff of pastry and downing it in one bite, as it was meant to be eaten. It proved to be filled with a delicious, tangy cheese, and lightly infused with the sauce it was sitting on, a tomato-thickened relative of the sauce that had cradled the mussel. There was a hint of sweetness that proved to be a chunk of lobster hiding in the cheese, the perfect surprise to match the seafood in the first two appetisers.

  Alex dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and took a steadying sip of the light, crisp wine that had been served with this course, smiling at no one while he tried to think of a topic of conversation that would be safe.

  “The lobster puffs were Cecil’s favourite,” said Julian, quietly enough that only Alex and Pembroke could really hear him.

  “I can only say that he had excellent taste,” said Pembroke, the seemingly callous words carrying a world of sympathy and meaning.

  Alex took another sip of wine and added, “The world is a bit less for having lost him.”

  Julian looked up, surprised, and then said wryly, “But if he were here, you would not be.”

  Alex smiled sadly and nodded to acknowledge his point. “I would gladly give up my place to know you were happy.”

  He was of course sincere, since a living Mandeville would mean Alex was still happily investigating much simpler murders at Lapointe’s side instead of on his own in a sea of manners and hidden meaning. That sincerity must have shown on his face, because Julian looked genuinely touched.

  Pembroke just looked annoyed.

  Alex called it a win and rewarded himself with one more sip of wine. He wouldn’t drink too much more than that with each course; he had a very long night ahead of him, and would need his wits about him.

  CHAPTER 6

  In Which a Great Deal of Food is Eaten, and a Few Things Learned

  It didn’t take long for their empty plates to be whisked away, and their wine glasses as well. If there were fifteen fresh glasses needed for each of seven courses, it was no wonder that Ms. Fitzhugh needed to buy more crystal, thought Alex.

  Soon enough there was a dry, light red wine in front of him, along with a steaming bowl of thick, creamy wild mushroom soup. The soup was earthy and delightful, just the sort of thing Alex felt he could eat ten times as much as he’d been served, had he not had many courses yet to come.

  “Are the mushrooms from your estate?” asked Alex curiously; he’d gone mushroom-hunting a time or two as a child, before he was old enough to be forbidden from accompanying handsome young gardeners into the dark woods alone for hours.

  “Mm-hmm,” said Julian, busy with his own spoonful of rich soup. He swallowed and dabbed at his mouth, then grinned shyly. “Emmy and I picked them ourselves, well, some of them. I wanted to contribute something.”

  “I haven’t gone looking for mushrooms in years,” said Alex, mind conjuring images of sun-dappled forest clearings that were no doubt sanitised by the intervening years.

  Julian chuckled. “Well, I don’t know that I’d have bothered on my own, but Emmy likes us to do things for ourselves sometimes, so we don’t grow completely spoilt.”

  “Your sister’s a wise woman,” said Alex. “I’ve been supporting myself independently for many years now, though my family has helped me to maintain the proper image during the Courtship.”

  “Oh, then you’d be clever enough to help with the businesses,” said Julian. “Not a lot of men of our station have ever held down a regular job, myself included.”

  “Well, to be fair, my job isn’t exactly regular,” said Alex with a chuckle. “After all, dastardly villains rarely do us the courtesy of taking weekends off.”

  “I expect they don’t ask for investment advice, either,” said the man next to Alex drolly, the swarthy fellow Alex had noted earlier whose name was Phineas O’Connor.

  “Nor give it,” said Alex, trying not to let the attention ruffle him.

  “Whereas I’ve been managing part of the family portfolio for several years, at my father’s insistence,” said Pembroke.

  Alex decided that was a good time to eat soup, which was just as rich and delicious after a few minutes of cooling.

  “Has it done well?” asked Willoughby shrewdly. “Your portfolio, I mean.”

  “Well enough that I’m here,” said Pembroke.

  Alex knew that didn’t mean much, since it would take even a fairly poor investor a long time to fritter away the St. Albans fortune, but he couldn’t think of a way to say so that didn’t sound petty, so he took a sip of wine instead.

  The conversation continued in that vein, the men around them subtly putting one another down while trying to build themselves up, though none of them bothered to target Alex while Alex stayed silent. The soup was a small serving, though, and eventually he hand no more excuses, so he dabbed at h
is mouth and sipped his water and tried to pick up the threads around him.

  “…and curiously, so was the cat!” said Julian, and all the men around him chuckled appreciatively at whatever story he’d been telling.

  Alex managed a small laugh of his own, and hoped it didn’t sound too fake.

  Julian turned to him and asked, eyes bright with mischief, “Have you ever had a cat, Alexander?”

  Alex felt his cheeks go pink. “I have never owned a cat,” he said, which was true as far as it went. He’d had a pair of lazy lizards that he’d loved to watch sunning themselves, and he’d spent three years raising a python from a tiny snakelet into a huge, friendly snake that had to be fed pink-eyed lab rats rather than mere mice.

  Despite the rumours, he’d never actually fed it a kitten. He was sure the cat had merely run off, given his sister’s treatment of it, and was probably still living on the grounds, snacking on mice and totally wasting its ridiculous pedigree.

  Well, he was fairly sure, anyway.

  “My father’s wife had one of those naked Egyptian cats, the kind with no fur,” said O’Connor, making a face. “Always thought that thing was creepy.”

  Julian laughed. “The ones with no fur are a bit creepy, aren’t they?”

  “Didn’t you used to have a thing for snakes or something, Benedict?” asked Pembroke.

  “Don’t all little boys like snakes and lizards and creepy crawlies?” retorted Alex, and he could feel the old defensiveness trying to rise up inside him. “I did have two lizards and a snake as a boy, and currently I have no pets due to my erratic hours.”

  “Can a pet like that be, I don’t know, comforting?” asked Julian curiously.

  Alex smiled softly, thinking of the way Montgomery had liked to curl around him as he studied, and said, “Yes, they can.”

  He was spared further explanation when the courses were changed again, this time to a salad of wild greens, probably also off the property, with heirloom tomatoes, tiny wild strawberries, and candied nuts, sprinkled with a blue-veined cheese and some sort of red dressing that, upon tasting, proved to be blood orange vinaigrette.