The Courtship of Julian St. Albans

by Crook, Amy

  “Was I ever that bad?” she asked, glancing between them.

  “Yes,” said Alex with a chuckle. “Remember when you got written up for it?”

  “For telling that minster he had a slappable arse for a vicar,” she said, face going back in her hands. “I thought I’d never get off desk duty.”

  Geoff laughed. “You, Alexander, are trouble. Drink your restorative.”

  Alex drank it and made a face. “Gah, what is this, double strength?”

  “Triple, your hands are shaking,” said Geoff, leaving them again.

  Alex shuddered, but drank it all anyway. “Oh, thank the gods,” said Alex, when Geoff returned rolling a little cart with tea for four.

  “Don’t get too excited, it’s herbal,” Geoff said, pouring cups for everyone. Alex and Smedley finished off their medicinal drinks in record time; even herbal tea had to be better than the restorative. “None of you need any more caffeine, and I’m off to bed after this,” said Geoffrey, handing out the cups. He gave Alex a considering look and added with a dramatic sigh, “Sadly alone.”

  “Just as alone as the rest of us,” said Alex, mock-swooning to get them all laughing again.

  Lapointe smirked at them the whole time they drank their tea, which Alex took to mean she was on the mend.

  CHAPTER 13

  In Which We Are, Rather Suddenly, on a Date

  Alex’s flat had been blissfully empty when he got home, and he barely managed to get changed out of his filthy clothes before he fell into bed and let sleep claim him.

  He awoke to the sound of the door buzzer, which proved to be Julian’s courier with an official letter scheduling their second date. The courier looked like he might have tried to wait on a reply, but Alex managed to drop enough hints about being out late at a crime scene that he didn’t bother. Of course, the blood smeared all over the coat hanging by the door might also have had something to do with it.

  A quick check of his mobile showed him it was mid-afternoon and he had four different phone messages and a ridiculous number of missed calls, mostly from various people within the department. He sighed, resigning himself to wakefulness, but set letter and phone aside and went to make tea and scrounge up some breakfast before he dealt with either.

  Two cups of tea, an energy bar and a shower later, Alex started with his phone. There was a message from Geoff, assuring him that Lapointe was fine but that he wanted a second opinion from Alex on her shoulder, which apparently was still bleeding sluggishly. Another one told him to disregard the first, as he’d found a bit of stray shrapnel hiding in the wound and everything was fine now. A third was from Lapointe, telling him to stop worrying and get plenty of rest, which made Alex laugh.

  The last one was from Armistead of all people, ordering Alex to come in and assist with the mountain of evidence he had so unkindly added to the pile from Mandeville’s murder that they were still going through.

  Alex deleted them all with vicious glee and called Lapointe back to tease her about wanting to stay wounded so she could flirt with Geoff longer.

  “I’m not the one whose creamy mounds he’s been praising,” she said, sounding amused but still a bit drugged.

  “That’s because he hasn’t seen yours yet, I’m sure,” said Alex. “Not that I have any idea if they’re creamy,” he added with a little shudder.

  She laughed. “You’ll never find out, either.”

  “And don’t think I’m not grateful for that,” said Alex, sipping his third cup of tea and idly toying with Julian’s letter.

  “Geoff says it’ll be a few days before he lets me go home,” she said sulkily. “I don’t think even a doctor as cute as him would be worth extra nights in this awful bed.”

  “Puncture wounds are prone to infection, and hard to treat yourself when they’re on your back,” countered Alex. “If you get infected, you’ll end up at a real hospital.”

  “I’m bored,” she protested, starting to sound sleepy.

  “I’ll bring you a book,” said Alex. “You’d be more bored on an antibiotic drip.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, all right, but you’d better visit me.”

  “Promise,” said Alex. They said their goodbyes and hung up, and then Alex checked in with Geoff just to be sure he wasn’t needed.

  Finally, he called Smedley and told him that if Armistead ever called him again, he’d change his number and make sure no one at the department had it but Lapointe.

  Smedley was still laughing when he hung up.

  “I suppose I can’t avoid you any longer,” said Alex, turning over the card and breaking the seal, feeling a slight tingle of familiar magic from the St. Albans family crest stamped into the wax. He had no idea why he was apprehensive about this, but a mage who ignored such instincts was usually short-lived.

  The letter started with a formal apology for the late notice, and named tonight at 7 o’clock for their second date.

  Alex looked at the clock and swore.

  “It’s a good thing I’ve already got your gift,” he said to the letter, hoping his long night didn’t show. He’d barely have time to get dressed and go, let alone finding somewhere that would worth taking a man like Julian that would accept a reservation on such short notice. Not to mention the fact that his coat was still covered in blood from the crime scene, having been dragged along the floor when he was helping Murielle.

  He sighed and dialled his mobile, already heading to the bedroom to figure out which of the outfits he’d bought was suitable for tonight.

  “This is a surprise,” said Henry wryly.

  “I need a favour,” said Alex, stripping while he talked. “My date with Julian St. Albans is tonight, in about three hours.”

  “Where are you taking him?” asked Henry.

  “I don’t know,” said Alex, “I just found out about it five minutes ago. That’s the favour.”

  Henry laughed. “Of all the people that come to me for access to the best places, I never thought you’d be one of them.”

  Alex sighed, shifting the phone awkwardly. “Will you do it?”

  “Of course I will, give me ten minutes and don’t pick your outfit yet,” said Henry. “I’ll tell you what’s appropriate once I’ve made your plans for you.”

  Alex sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Thank you, Henry.”

  Henry chuckled again. “I should let you twist, but Victor would never forgive me.”

  “You’ll enjoy having me owe you,” said Alex.

  “That I will,” said Henry, and hung up.

  Alex sighed and flopped back on the bed, half-undressed and in despair of ever figuring out his life.

  He felt it was typical of the day when the doorbell sounded again. “Just a minute!” he yelled, slipping his shirt back on and buttoning it hastily, not bothering to tuck it in. He left his belt on the bed and made sure his flies were zipped, then opened the door to find the St. Albans courier had returned.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I really must have your reply,” said the poor man, trying so hard not to stare at Alex’s disheveled state.

  “Oh, yes, of course, do I need to write it out?” said Alex, looking down long enough to fix the crooked buttons on his shirt.

  “If you are accepting Master Julian’s invitation, I can take a verbal message,” he said, expression relieved when Alex glanced back up, properly covered finally.

  Alex chuckled. “I am very pleased and honoured to accept Julian’s invitation, and will be by in my car to pick him up at seven.”

  “Very good, sir,” said the courier, giving a bow and scampering off just as Alex’s phone rang again.

  “Are you dying?” said Alex into the phone, closing the door.

  “Er, no?” said Smedley.

  “Then I don’t care, it can wait until tomorrow,” said Alex. “I’ve got my second Courtship date tonight and I can’t afford to bollocks it up.”

  Smedley chuckled. “I was just calling to let you know Armistead’s been chastised by my boss for c
alling you after the extra effort you put forth to clear the crime scene for our men.”

  “Oh, that is the best news I’ve had all day,” said Alex, letting himself enjoy the mental image for a moment. Then his call waiting beeped, and he sighed. “Gotta go.”

  “Tomorrow,” said Smedley, hanging up.

  Alex didn’t even bother to sigh as he clicked over to Victor. “So, you’ll be needing the car, then?”

  “Oh, bloody hell, yes, is it even available?” said Alex, resisting the urge to beat his head against the nearest hard surface.

  “Of course it is,” said Victor. “He’ll be there at half past six, unless you need more shopping?”

  “No, well, I should be fine unless Henry says I need to be wearing something the girls didn’t make me buy,” said Alex, giving up on the idea of a self-induced concussion and settling for another cup of tea.

  “Right, half six and you’ll call back if you need it sooner,” said Victor.

  It was Alex’s day to be hung up on, he thought, staring at the phone until the screen went dark.

  The kettle whistled, and he made his tea right in the mug with an extra bag for good measure. He had the feeling he’d need it.

  He’d barely managed a sip when the phone rang again, Henry with an update that he was on his way and would dress Alex himself.

  “I am grown man and can dress myself,” said Alex, but he was speaking to no one.

  Some days, he hated his life.

  Knowing the sort of places Henry favoured, Alex got out the glowing cufflinks and cravat pin set, finding that the gentle glow wasn’t too flash in the daylight. He changed into a pair of good silk pants and belted his robe tight, then deactivated the wards that kept his family out of his bedroom, since he wasn’t about to trot his whole wardrobe out into the main room.

  Fortunately, Henry approved of black far more than his sisters, and soon enough Alex was dressed in an icy blue shirt that went well with the glowing accessories, black trousers, black jacket and no cravat at all. The open collar of his shirt made his neck seem graceful and gave his throat an enticing length, the blue and black setting off his colouring quite well.

  “You do clean up all right,” said Henry, putting the cravat pin through one jacket lapel in a manner that seemed rather rakish to Alex. “Victor’s driver has your destinations, of course, but you’ll be eating at Nihon, which is the trendiest place right now. Then there’s drinks at the Gin Joint, which is totally not trendy because the people who love it don’t want it spoiled, including me.”

  Alex wondered if he ought to feel honoured or completely afraid that he was basically getting one of Henry’s famous whirlwind get-her-in-the-sack dates without having to actually go on it with Henry. “No dancing, I hope?” he asked.

  Henry laughed. “I remember, though you do like that boring ballroom stuff?” he said, looking relieved when Alex nodded. “The Gin Joint has no dancing, but once it gets late enough you’ll take him to the Starlight Tower; they stop serving dinner and open up the floor at eleven for ballroom dancing. It’s very romantic,” said Henry with a leer.

  “I’m not trying to get laid, Henry,” said Alex. “Is there anyone besides the usual I have to tip?”

  Henry nodded. “The maitre d’ at Nihon, the doorman at the Gin Joint, and the bandmaster at Starlight, give them each one of these,” said Henry, pulling a small stack of his own calling cards out of his pocket, each of which had at least one hundred-pound note clipped to it. “They’re all expecting you, and this will let them know you’re my brother.”

  Alex relaxed with a sigh. “Thanks, Henry, I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

  “Just promise me you won’t wear that coat,” said Henry, gesturing to the bloodstained greatcoat, “and I’ll still take it out of you later.”

  Alex chuckled. “I promise, I’ve got a good coat in here somewhere,” he said, fumbling in the hall closet until he produced his proper cashmere coat, the fabric still in perfect condition despite his haphazard storage, thanks to spells just as good as the ones on his shoes. “Father’s doing.”

  “Christmas before you told us all to sod off, wasn’t it?” asked Henry, taking it out of his hands.

  “Just so,” said Alex, transferring the necessary possessions from his other coat while Henry was conveniently holding it. “Should I wear a watch, or is that too old-fashioned for this look?”

  “The girls made you get a silver one, that should be all right, Fauna was telling me you’re all attached to your new bauble,” said Henry, lounging in Alex’s favourite chair. “The club boys like to show off their fancy magic watches, so you won’t seem out of place.”

  “Good,” said Alex, fetching it and looking at the face. “Bugger, well, good thing you approve of my outfit, I’m nearly out of time,” he said, snagging Julian’s wrapped gift. “Victor’s man will be here ay moment. He pocketed his mobile, double checked that the bribes were in their own pocket, his wallet was full and included Victor’s credit card, and the kettle was off.

  “That’s my cue to go,” said Henry, swinging his feet to the floor. “Don’t forget, you owe me.”

  Alex laughed humourlessly. “You’d never let me, dear brother.”

  “Too true,” said Henry cheerfully, letting himself out.

  Alex thought about redoing the bedroom wards, but his pocket buzzed, and this time it was the driver telling him it was time to go.

  Alex spent the drive alternately fidgeting and doing calming exercises, interspersed with the occasional text message exchange with Smedley about the various items they’d catalogued at the crime scene.

  By the time they pulled into the long driveway at the St. Albans estate, Alex had almost managed to calm his nerves. He put his phone on silent and pocketed it as he got out of the car, feeling a bit like his skin fit wrong in all these new clothes, without even his regular greatcoat to comfort him. Even Godfrey’s familiar sneer was no comfort, and it took Alex a moment to realise why — this would be his first meeting with Julian St. Albans where he knew Julian wasn’t being magically coerced into liking him.

  Another deep breath and Alex threw on his most annoyingly charming grin. “Evening, Godfrey. I’ve been called up to bat, apparently,” he said.

  “A poor substitute,” said Godfrey, but he ushered Alex inside anyway. This time he was led to a small sitting room just down the hall and told to wait.

  A quick check of the clock told him he was actually slightly early, so he took off his coat, remembering too late that he rarely wore it not just because of the style but because there was something off about the fit that he kept meaning to get fixed. It was too warm in the room, anyway, a cheerful fire in the grate and what proved to be spiced cider steaming on the sideboard, as though it was deep winter instead of merely a nippy autumn evening.

  Perhaps Julian got cold easily, thought Alex, taking off his jacket as well and letting the heat of the fire soak into his own skinny frame.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in so little clothing,” teased a familiar voice behind him, and Alex whirled to see Julian St. Albans in the doorway looking positively edible. He, too, had gone for a more modern cut of clothing, slim trousers and a close-fitting sweater in a pettable-looking golden brown that brought out the highlights in his hair.

  Alex hoped his blush wasn’t too obvious and tried to be casual as he grabbed his jacket. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to think I was hiding from you,” he teased, doing a little twirl before slipping the jacket back on.

  Julian laughed. “Rumour was correct in this case, you do have a very nice,” he smirked, “seat.”

  “And not a horse in sight,” said Alex, choosing to hold the ill-fitting overcoat on one arm instead of embarrassing himself with it. Someone raised to good tailoring like Julian would notice the flaws, and Alex was better off cold than looking shabby in this case. “You’re showing excellent form yourself tonight,” he added, offering Julian his arm.

  “Oh, I should
get my coat,” said Julian, moving past Alex and through the room to the coat closet Alex hadn’t even noticed, the door set to blend into the moulding. A dark brown coat matched the trousers perfectly, and a cheerful golden scarf went with it. “I hate to be cold,” he said, making a face.

  “So I see,” said Alex with a chuckle. Well, at least he’d deduced one thing correctly tonight. “I’ll endeavour to keep your warm tonight, then.”

  “So, what did you manage to conjure for us, with so little warning?” asked Julian, leaning into him.

  “Your gift, for one thing,” said Alex, handing him the gaily wrapped package.

  “Ooh, I do love this part,” said Julian, sitting with the box in his lap and grinning like a little boy. His fingers were precise as he untied the ribbon and pulled off the top of the box, however, very adult in his desire not to spoil anything. “Oh, Alex, they’re lovely,” he said, when he saw the trio of little panels.

  “This one made me think of you,” said Alex, pointing to the painting of edible mushrooms clustered against an old tree, “and then I spotted the apples, so I had to find a third.”

  “This one’s perfect,” teased Julian, picking up the painting of the cat and butterfly. “You looked just like this the day I met you, cranky but trying not to make me fly off.”

  “And you’re the one that turned my butterfly blue,” said Alex, reminding him of the silly trick he’d done at the Courtship banquet.

  “So I did,” said Julian, tucking the painting back away and putting the box and bow to one side. “Don’t worry, it’s safe here.”

  “I wasn’t,” said Alex, offering Julian his arm once again. “I know it’s safe here in your home.”

  Julian smiled, charmed. “Of course,” was all he said, as he took Alex’s arm.

  Alex let out a quiet breath and led him to the waiting car, glad that at least one thing tonight had gone correctly.

  “Why don’t you put your coat on?” asked Julian curiously.

  One thing.

  “I’d forgotten it’s in need of tailoring,” said Alex, unable to think of a suitably polite lie. “It’s warm enough in the car, anyway, and the driver will bring us right to the front of the restaurant.”