The Courtship of Julian St. Albans (6 page)

“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 about 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 his 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.

“Blood oranges are used in several magical
contexts,” said Alex idly, taking a sip of the aromatic white wine that
came with the course.

The other suitors gave him the sort of look
he’d always gotten when he began to spout boring technical or academic nonsense,
but Julian looked interested. “Really, why?”

Alex smiled at him. “They’ve got a special
connection to people, with their rich red insides that don’t show on the
outside, but in a different way from, say, mandrake root,” said Alex.
“Do you know any magical theory?”

“Shouldn’t you have asked that
first?” said Willoughby, sounding a bit snide.

Alex shrugged. “I assumed Julian was
intelligent enough to understand the basic idea, even without much
context,” he said, his tone implying the Willoughby was perhaps not. He
took a bite of his salad to keep from saying so outright, which he would have
done in most other situations, instead concentrating on the flavours of the
various greens, from bitter dandelion to a spicy arugula, and a sweeter, more
delicate leaf he wasn’t sure he could identify. There were fresh herbs mixed in
as well, a bit of dill and parsley, which helped keep the rich cheese from
overwhelming the greens.

“Did you gather the salad greens as
well?” asked Chudleigh, from a few seats farther down the table, stuck in
the middle and unable to really talk to Julian or his sister unless the room
grew quiet.

It was Emmeline who chose to answer, much to
Chudleigh’s disappointment. “No, though they were grown on the property.
There are extensive vegetable and herb gardens on one side of the house.”

The man next to her asked a related question,
and the conversation swirled closed again, rising up to swallow her answer.

“Do you grow your own ingredients,
Benedict?” asked O’Connor, sounding almost genuinely curious.

Alex shook his head. “I’ve got a few small
potted plants, but nothing I’d rely on living long enough to use magically. I
buy what I need and keep it in stasis cubes if I need it to stay especially
fresh.”

“Those are pretty expensive, aren’t
they?” asked Julian, sounding unflatteringly surprised that Alex could
afford such a thing.

Alex shrugged. “So are the things I
make,” he said. He’d funded his own collection of those cubes from a
couple of very lucrative fertility charms, which could only be created by a
mage who was not only fertile but had never had children.

“So you do more than conjure butterflies
and catch murderers after all?” said Pembroke, his tone politely
inquiring.

Alex took a sip of his wine, testing phrases in
his head before he answered. “I do create magical objects, though I don’t
sell luck charms at the fair.”

Julian chuckled and said, “I don’t think
you’d sell very many, you’re far too imposing.”

“Hexes and curses, perhaps,” said
Willoughby, which made them all laugh, even Alex, though not for the same
reason.

Alex ate more salad with a wry little smile on
his face, thinking of the very few such spells he’d created in his time, all of
them while still at school.

“I dare say you’ve amused him,” said
Pembroke, making Alex glance up from his food curiously.

“Perhaps I just like the salad,” he
said, eating a candied walnut and a strawberry together with great relish.

“It is a very good salad,” said
Julian in a teasing tone. Alex made a mental note to keep being droll rather
than letting himself descend into the same sort of sniping as the other men,
since it seemed the former amused their quarry far more than the latter
impressed him.

That seemed to cue the other men into eating,
themselves, though Alex knew that the food wasn’t really the point, merely
another topic of conversation, another way to judge or impress.

“Have any of your tenants been affected by
the recent storms?” asked Alex curiously. He’d spent a bit of time looking
into the St. Albans assets, and even making Victor explain the source of their
own fortunes, fleshing out Alex’s admittedly spotty memories of how it all fit
together.

“I don’t think so,” said Julian
shyly. “That’s more Emmy’s thing now, though of course my future husband
would want to know,” he said, laughing softly as if chiding himself for
not thinking to find out.

“How are the Benedict lands faring?”
asked Pembroke, clearly expecting Alex to be equally ignorant.

“There’s been a little flooding, but
nothing that couldn’t be handled,” said Alex, pleased that someone took
his bait. He did hate to revise, only to find the subject wasn’t on the test.
“No houses, just a few fields to the south that have always had
problematic drainage.”

“So no big crop loss, then?” asked
O’Connor, sounding genuinely interested.

Alex shook his head, taking another sip of
water for a throat unused to so much talking. “I believe one had sheep
that have been moved, and the other two were feed rather than cash crops, so
though they might have to supplement winter stores if the fields don’t dry out,
there’s not much financial loss.”

He and O’Connor discussed land ownership for a
bit longer, Alex learning a lot about the O’Connor family in the bargain.
Phineas was a second son, and it was obvious he’d learned the lessons of good
stewardship at his brother’s side just as Henry had learned with Victor.
Willoughby and Pembroke started another topic with Julian, who clearly had no
interest in such mundane details.

Alex wondered if Emmeline Fitzhugh could be
persuaded to stay on and run things, and then wondered why he cared. It wasn’t
as if there was any chance he’d end up the lord of the house, after all.

The salads were whisked away and replaced with
a palate-cleansing lime and mint sorbet, cool and sweet on the tongue. “No
blood oranges this time,” quipped O’Connor.

Alex chuckled. “Mint’s useful in spells,
too,” he said, “though mostly I use it for tea.”

“I’ve always liked mint tea,” said
Julian, looking like a lost little boy as he poked at his sorbet, “but
Cecil never did.”

Alex’s heart went out to him, though he had
nothing useful he could say. He hated these situations the most, where he felt
helpless for his inability with words, for being trapped in this farce of a
Courtship with a young man whose entire future hung on such a slender balance.

Not to mention likely
sharing a meal with a murderer.

“If lovers like all the same things, don’t
you think it gets boring?” said Pembroke.

Julian chuckled. “I wouldn’t know, really,
though I never did grow bored of Cecil. He was my only lover.”

“And then to marriage,” murmured
Alex, too softly for anyone to really hear. He managed about half his ice
before the cold and tart was too much for him, and then he sat back and watched
for a moment, letting the conversation wash over him and join the background noise
of the house’s magic.

A hand came to take his ice and Alex blinked,
ears popping as his senses reversed themselves, magic becoming a hum and words
gaining importance, and he wondered how much he’d missed and if anyone had
noticed the lapse.

“…get your fill of variety after all the
men take you for their dates,” Willoughby was saying, which meant they
were still on the topic of Julian’s relative inexperience.

Julian chuckled wryly, taking a sip of water.
“Well, I will admit I’m looking forward to some dates more than others,
but I know that every family represented tonight has sent me their best, so I’m
also hoping for some pleasant surprises.”

“Which form of Courtship have you chosen,
if it’s not rude to ask?” said Alex curiously.

The men around him looked a bit shocked, which
meant it probably was rude but no one was going to tell him. Ah, well.