The Courtship of Julian St. Albans (30 page)

Alex looked pleased.
“I’ll have to tell Henry my date won.”

They all laughed at that, and the rest of the
ride was spent in pleasant conversation, the two of them sitting warm and close
and comfortable. Alex took Julian to his door and got his goodnight kiss, and
then it was over.

“I think,” he said, as Jones shut the
door behind him, “I’m going to sleep for about a week.”

CHAPTER
23

In Which We Have a Visitor and Go Out for Brunch

Alex did indeed sleep very late the next day,
and he and his Guardians stayed in, ate leftovers and did no magic whatsoever.
Well, they did whatever magic they always did as part of being Guardians, but
Alex forced himself to stay out of his work room and rest. He had two whole
days off of physical therapy, and he planned to spend them staying off his leg
as much as possible.

He was lounging on the couch on Sunday morning
while Jacques cooked breakfast and James maintained the Guardians’ weapons,
telling Alex about them as he cleaned and checked them over. “This is my
Guard-Knife,” said James, picking up the smallest of all the weapons on
the table. “When we leave we’ll both ask if you’ll anoint the crystal for
us.” It had a rough, uncut diamond set in the pommel, and it was
traditional for a grateful charge to offer a single drop of the blood the
Guardian had protected to bless the blade.

“You wear that under your left sleeve for
luck, right?” Alex sat up, interested.

James unbuttoned his shirt and showed Alex the
special sheath, designed and charmed to be durable and comfortable day in and
day out, though they’d shed them for the purification within the walls of the
Temple. James had already wiped the blade down and checked everything over for
signs of wear, so he slipped it back where it belonged before buttoning up.
“I’ve seen ones from older Guardians where the crystal shines even through
their shirt with gratitude magic.”

“I’ll add my own to it, I hope,” said
Alex with a shy smile. He was about to ask another question when the doorbell
rang.

James immediately began making his own weapons
vanish. “Are you expecting anyone?” he asked, keeping out the larger
of his two guns. Alex had been surprised to see them, even though he’d known
the Guardians modernised themselves with the rest of the world, the better to
protect their charges.

“I’m not… Wait, I’ve got a… Oh. Oh,
no,” said Alex, reading the text with a sinking stomach.

“Enemy?” asked Jacques, who had
emerged from the kitchen to retrieve his own arsenal.

“Worse,” said
Alex, flopping back on the couch. “Mother.”

“Alexander Nigel Frankfurt Benedict, the
Fourth, you open this door up right now!” came a strident female voice
through the door.

“Coming, Mother,” called Alex
unhappily. He was pleased to see the rest of the weapons had already been
banished to their appropriate hiding places as he levered himself up out of the
chair. “You two just look menacing, I’ll pretend I was the one in the
kitchen, she’d… It will go better.”

“All right,” said Jacques. He
followed Alex to the door, silent and deadly like a proper bodyguard, and even
made Alex stand back while he opened it.

“Is my son here?” said Alex’s mother,
looking the Guardian over with narrowed eyes and then peering past him.
“Alex, will you tell your young man to let me in?”

“That’s definitely my mother,” said
Alex wryly, and Jacques stepped back and bowed, still silent.

“Thank you… Oh, dear, what’s that
smell?” she said as she walked in, looking around and sniffing
disdainfully and removing her coat, which Alex hung up on the rather
overstuffed coat tree by the door.

“That would be the food you
interrupted,” said Alex, turning and hurrying to the kitchen. Fortunately,
Jacques was too smart to leave the stove on, so the bacon was only a bit
extra-crispy and not actually burnt. There was pancake batter next to the pan,
too, so once Alex took out the bacon and saved the fat in the cup obviously set
out for that task, he wiped the skillet clean and added butter. “Will you
stay for brunch, Mother?”

“Just tea, dear, I was going to take you
out but I can see you’re not fit for company,” she said disdainfully.

Alex was finding it hard to manoeuvre and cook
with his cane, but he was determined to make a go of it and keep his mother
from finding out his Guardian had also been playing caterer. “I’ll make up
a pot once I get these pancakes going,” said Alex.

“Allow me,” said Jacques smoothly,
having silently joined them while James stayed by the door and looked
dangerous. Rather than start the tea, he took over at the stove. “You’ve
done all the hard work already.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” said Alex,
giving him a very grateful look. He got the kettle going and warmed the teapot
with a quick spell, which his mother reacted to with a predictable moue of
distaste.

“Still doing all that magic nonsense, and
now you see where it’s got you,” she said, sitting on one of his kitchen
chairs like she was afraid it had the filth of the common people on it.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s terrible
that I’m in the top three contenders for Julian St. Albans’ courtship, or have
I fallen since I last talked to Flora?”

She sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “I do
hope he hasn’t seen this ridiculous little flat of yours, you should live in a
proper townhouse like your brother Henry.”

“Henry lives in the family
townhouse,” said Alex mildly. “This suits me better, and I’m afraid
your hopes are dashed, since we came here for our date last night, after I took
him out for a curry.”

“You did not!” she said, looking
appalled and like she might have palpitations.

Alex, quite used to her ways, was immune to the
dramatics. “He enjoyed himself very much.”

“We played gin,”
said Jacques mildly.

“Alex won,” put in
James, in the same deceptive tone.

Alex poured boiling water in the teapot and
willed it to brew faster, limping around to gather fresh milk from the fridge.
He even rinsed out the creamer before refilling it, all for an excuse to not
talk for a few minutes.

His mother radiated disapproval on every level.
“I don’t know why you don’t have a servant to do these things for you, you
oughtn’t be making your Guardians cook breakfast.”

“I’m used to feeding myself, Lady
Benedict,” said Jacques. “Will you be taking Alex out, or shall I
serve him a plate?”

She hmphed. “How quickly can you be
properly dressed? And none of that awful black, it’s Sunday morning, wear a bit
of colour for once.”

Alex sighed. “Just let me get a cuppa and
I’ll be as quick as I can.” He was suddenly very, very glad he hadn’t let
them talk him into a pink or yellow suit he’d just not wear, because he knew
his mother would have already found out and be insisting. As it was he’d end up
in the awful light cerulean morning suit that Fauna had picked out, as the
aubergine would likely be declared too dark for a sunny day.

Alex sent a tiny bit of magic into the teapot
and then poured. It would give the tea a very faint metallic taste, but he
honestly didn’t care at this point if it got caffeine into him sooner.

His mother sighed as she accepted the first cup
as her due. “Don’t you have something blue from your shopping?” she
asked.

“I’m certain Fauna has given you a precise
inventory of my new wardrobe,” said Alex irritably. “Dissembling is
beneath you.”

She chuckled. “Wear it with a white cravat
and the yellow diamonds, then, the family ones.”

“Sunshine and happy clouds it is,”
said Alex. “I’m going to get changed, you two should have time to
eat,” he said, though he did take the time to give them each their tea.

“We’ll keep Lady
Benedict safe,” said James with a nod.

Alex resisted the urge to tell them it wasn’t
his mother that Alex was worried about, instead he slipped away while his
mother turned her attention to his two early-rising Guardians who were,
fortunately, fully dressed and ready to go. He took his tea with him.

His shower was quick by necessity, and he dried
his hair with a spell while staring unhappily at the awful blue suit. He was
going to look like a total prat, but at least, having worn it out with his
mother, he might actually not have to wear it in front of Julian. He got
dressed, keeping the watch fob his mother was sure to hate and using the silver
watch and chain to go with the white gold setting on the cold yellow diamonds.
He wore his own bespoke shoes, reasoning that the black would go with his
winter coat and cane, and then took a few more deep breaths before emerging.

The kitchen had been haphazardly cleaned in his
absence, just as if his guests were trying to be nice but expected him to do
the real work, dishes in the sink and counters cleared. A single cup of tea was
waiting on the coffee table, his mother perched on the couch, hands in her lap
as she and the Guardians kept up a rather tense silence.

“Shall we, Mother?” said Alex,
stepping forward to kiss her cheek and down the lukewarm tea in just a few
gulps with a grateful look at the Guardians.

Jacques appeared to be
trying not to giggle.

“Oh, now, doesn’t that look lovely? It
brings out your eyes,” said his mother. “Well, at least if you’re
going to persist in staying thin as a rail, you can be well-tailored.”

“Thank you, Mother,” said Alex,
setting the cup back down. “Where are we off to?”

“Don’t you have more suitable shoes?”
said his mother rather than answering, a habit of hers that never failed to
grate on his nerves.

“No,” Alex replied. He retrieved the
nicer of his two coats, checked to be sure he had all the pocket-items he might
require and transferring a few things from his other coat while his mother
stood and followed.

Fortunately for him, she was too used to her
son’s lack of manners to wait for him to try to manage his cane and still stuff
her into her own coat, and got herself bundled up in her fashionable light
brown cashmere coat. Her dress was also quite fashionable, knee-length and
exactly appropriate to her age, though Alex had to wonder how she coped with
the weather in nothing but tights.

Jacques held the door and James locked up,
making sure the lights and stove and kettle were off, and they all trooped down
to the car. His mother’s elderly driver, Bradford, held the door for the four
of them, face a bit sour as the two Guardians insisted on inspecting the
vehicle before allowing either Benedict inside. Alex sat next to his mother to
spare his Guardians the torment, and also make it harder for her to pick apart
his clothing, posture and general existence.

“Must you poke about with that stick
so?” said his mother, once they were settled.

Alex sighed. Harder, but not impossible.
“Yes, Mother, it’s a medically required stick.”

The journey went like that, right up until they
pulled up in front of the Atrium.

“Oh, no,” said Alex, staring out at
the famous open-air restaurant, with its high ceilings, glass structure and
flowering trees everywhere, inside and out. “I am not eating in an
indefensible public location just so you can be seen.”

“I’m afraid he’s right,
my Lady,” said James, polite but firm.

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll see if they’ve got
room for us at the Capetian,” she said, pulling out her phone and
dialling. Bradford pulled away from the curb and drove them toward the famous
hotel and its equally-famous restaurant, which of course was happy to make
space for the Lady Benedict and her son. The Guardians weren’t mentioned, and
yet when they went in they were led to one of the booths that had been around
long enough there were seats to either side to accommodate James and Jacques.

A coat-check girl followed them, taking all
four coats and leaving them with a claim slip. Alex let his mother take care of
tipping her and the maitre d’ and just sat, feeling very tired indeed. He took
a moment to breathe, tapping the grounding magic in his cane, and when he
opened his eyes the world did seem a bit more even-keeled. “Did you want
to share the champagne brunch for two?” he asked, opening his menu.
“We’ll need to get tea for my Guardians, of course.”

“Of course,” said his mother, getting
herself settled. “That sounds perfect, dear.” Of course, it wouldn’t
be nearly enough food for Alex, who was healing physically and magically, but
he’d worry about that later.

The waiter appeared and took their order, only
a little nervous as he stood between the Guardians to do so, promising an extra
tea tray for them. He was followed by a man with a tray of drinks, water,
champagne and pots of tea and coffee. Alex elected to have the coffee, much to
his mother’s annoyance; she of course had the tea. The Capetian was much too
refined to do anything so mundane as leave the pots on the table, but Alex knew
fresh ones would be available at a moment’s notice.

He took a sip of the coffee and sighed at its
rich, smooth flavour. “I may have to concede my family’s got good taste in
hot beverages, if nothing else,” he said.

His mother looked unamused. “The tea in
your flat was barely acceptable, you ought to filter your water.”

Alex chose not to tell her that the funny taste
was from him hurrying the brewing, and instead took another sip of his coffee.
“It got caffeine into my system, that’s all I cared about at the
time.”

“Well, at least you’ll have an acceptable
meal now,” she said. “Now, tell me all about your shenanigans with
the St. Albans boy. I want to know if your Courtship is actually
salvageable.” Her tone suggested that by “your Courtship” she
actually meant “your entire life up until now.”