Veiled in Blue (18 page)

With a word of thanks to his man, Julius left and prepared to face the world.

Here, in fashionable London, he was a leader. Here was the place he belonged. How would Eve feel about it? He remained uncertain as he strode through the streets towards Doctors’ Commons in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. The walk was a fair one, but he’d become accustomed to walking recently, and the distance was no trouble to him. He had time to think.

Thinking was highly overrated, he surmised, after he had turned a few corners, greeted a few acquaintances, and continued on his way. He could reach no conclusions, and nothing about his situation told him he could expect to reach any soon. Used to making plans and then ruthlessly carrying them out, he was still no closer to his objective of smoking out whoever had dared to send King to attack or abduct Eve.

He trusted Alex to keep her safe until his return. King was probably not the man’s name, but either party, the Young Pretender or the Duke of Northwich might have found amusement in using it. King had settled in Appleton for a few months, so why had he not made his move before?

Because Eve was not pursued by anyone until Julius arrived. Perhaps the man only meant to keep an eye on her until his master had spared enough time to decide her fate.

Julius halted, causing the man walking behind him to curse and dodge around his now static form. He stared at the sky, the fluffy white clouds making shapes seemed sinister to him all of a sudden.

That would mean a letter. He was in the wrong place. He should be gaining ingress to King’s house, not wasting time finding out what he could here. Except he had to apply for the special license. For only that reason would he have left Eve. Would Alex have the sense to search King’s house? Probably not, since he had a new heir and the two guests to take care of. And Connie to cherish, something Alex did ruthlessly, to the exclusion of everything else.

Julius continued his journey.

An hour later he had filled out the requisite forms, paid the fee, and was on his way to White’s. Ladies had their drawing rooms for gossip, men had the clubs and coffee houses. If women had their own coffee houses, they would be unstoppable in their power. Julius only hoped they never realized that salient fact.

He rounded the corner by the Park and strolled down the street towards the club, pausing to glance at the red brick façade of St. James’s Palace. The royal family rarely stayed there these days, using it as a formal meeting-place, but one of the princesses was fond of it. God knew why. In Julius’s not so humble opinion, the place was hideous inside and out, the rooms invariably overheated and stuffy, and the decoration dull or outdated or both.

The palace seemed quiet, so presumably the King was at Kensington, a smaller palace he vastly preferred to any other. Julius didn’t blame him. Kensington was away from the soot and bustle of London and a more modern, neater building.

Across the road stood White’s Club. A substantial establishment, compared to the previous one and the coffee house before, it dominated that part of the street, presented a dignified, imposing presence in that part of the area. Totally unlike the activities that went on inside.

Julius pulled out his watch. Two of the afternoon, a time when the club would be humming, except this was July, and London was, although the most populous city in the world, described by the great and the good as “thin of company.”

Passing through the entrance, he nodded to the porter. He handed his hat, gloves, and sword to the footman, half wishing he could leave his coat, too. The comfort of the place enveloped him as he strolled through the main rooms. This place was a far cry from the rough-and-ready coffee houses of the City, furnished with upholstered chairs and sofas, the tables polished mahogany rather than the three-legged ones or the trestles used in other establishments.

Comfort beckoned along with the cloying scents of brewing chocolate and pipe tobacco. Without obviously scanning the main rooms, Julius found many of his acquaintances there. Shouts of “Winterton!” came to him, but he headed for the man seated by the side of the empty fireplace, one elbow propped on the small table beside him, reading the newspaper.

His cousin Valerian Shaw glanced up as Julius approached and then got to his feet, grinning. “I thought you’d left town, Julius,” he commented, motioning to the empty chair at the other side of his table.

“I’m back on an errand.” Julius shook his hand briefly and dropped into the chair, motioning to the waiter, who obligingly brought an extra cup and a fresh pot of coffee. Val was a member of a sprawling and noisy family, a son of the Marquess of Stretton, and twin to Darius. “I had thought you obeyed my mother’s summons and you’d already be at the Abbey.”

Val grimaced. “I’m heading there later this week. I’ve been avoiding it, to be honest. Then it’s to my father’s house for the shooting season.”

“Then you may attend the celebrations of my nuptials,” Julius said. He took care to keep his voice low.

Val’s startlingly green eyes opened wider. “You’re giving in to your mother’s persuasions?”

Julius shook his head. “Entirely the opposite. I plan to arrive at my family home already wed.”

Val broke into a gale of shocked laughter. He ignored the heads turning in their direction, pulling out his handkerchief and mopping his eyes. “Then I’ll leave for the Abbey earlier than I planned. This I have to see!”

“I doubt it will be pleasant.” Julius leaned back in his chair and observed the gleaming silver buckles on his shoes with a thoughtful air they did not deserve.

“When the displeasure is not turned on to me, I daresay it will make for a wonderful spectator sport. You will oblige me, Julius, by not announcing your intentions for a few hours. I will get excellent odds on the prospect of your marrying in the next four weeks.”

“The minute the entry appears in the betting-book with your name on it, the gossip will start,” Julius said, resigned to his fate. After all, he’d visited Doctors’ Commons that morning, and if anyone had seen him there, the gossip would already be spreading.

“Your mother has invited so many eligible young females to her house party that mine will not be the first bet.” Val picked up the plain white pot, a remnant of White’s coffee house days, and poured a cup for them both.

“I suppose that’s the truth.” Julius did not generally concern himself with gossip, unless he could use it to gain his own ends, but he would rather avoid it this time, for Eve’s sake.

“So who is the fortunate candidate?” Val asked, seemingly idly, but his gaze was sharp. Val missed nothing. Most considered him lost in dissipation and idleness, but not Julius.

“Nobody you know, but she is related to people we have been pursuing.” Val had been of significant help with tracking down the errant Stuarts.

One finely arched eyebrow went up. “You don’t say! Trapped, Julius?”

“Snared, more like.” Julius sipped his coffee.

Val nodded. “The difference is subtle, but it’s there. I understand your meaning. Sometimes a man may choose his snare.”

Julius grinned. “Precisely.”

“Why?”

From almost anyone else, Julius would have refused to answer, but he made an exception in his cousin’s case. “She needs me.” Keeping his voice low, he outlined as much of his predicament as he thought wise for his cousin to know.

“Julius to the rescue.” Val toasted him with his cup, his expression gleeful. “The biter bit.”

“And how is the beauteous Charlotte?” Julius enquired innocently.

Val had been betrothed to the solemn Charlotte for nearly a year now, and he’d been dodging the nuptials valiantly. The match was supposed to settle him down, cure him of his gambling, drinking, and womanizing. “She’s fine, as far as I know.”

Not the words of a passionate lover, but Val avoided his gaze, so maybe Julius was wrong. Maybe Val did have feelings for Charlotte, enough to spare her from a match that did not augur well.

Julius shrugged. “It’s time, Val. I didn’t need my mother to tell me that. While I object strongly to her cold matchmaking, I am not averse to remarriage.”

“Especially to a governess.”

“As you say.” Julius replaced his cup in its saucer with a hard clink.

“You did not come here today merely to kill time until your license was ready, did you?”

“I came for the gossip.” No point beating about the bush with Val. He tended to see through any subterfuge. “I told you what happened and why the matter is now urgent. Who was King working for?”

Val saw his point at once. “You mean did King plan death or abduction for her?”

“And possible rape. Do you think Northwich’s sons would balk at that when the prize is so great? If seduction does not work, I doubt they would hesitate.” Hatred filled him with caustic poison. When he thought of the Northwich family it was always that way, but due to the nature of his self-imposed mission, Julius often found himself in their company.

Julius had not realized he was holding the newspaper until the sound of a rip came to his ears. He dumped the crumpled mess on the table. Fortunately, the paper had been ironed, so his fingers had not turned black with unset ink. “They cannot be allowed to tear society apart. They will do anything for their own ends, anything at all.” He remained certain of that fact. If he had one constant in his life, it was that. The Dankworth family and their machinations. His determination to defeat them, to make them pay—no, not that. Julius regarded himself a sensible man, never led by his emotions. That would remain the case, whatever it cost him.

He would never lose his temper again, ever.

Forcing a pleasant expression to his face, an exercise he had become adept in over the years, he tried to alleviate the damage. Val would not have missed his violent reaction, whatever he said and whatever excuse he offered. So he gave none, only changing the subject. “If you hear anything, please contact me.”

“This affair holds more than your usual interest, and that is saying something.” Val reached out but then pulled his hand back. Men did not hold hands or pat. Not in public, at any rate.

Julius nodded. “Since you are here, collecting gossip, I believe I must move elsewhere and see what I can gather. I plan to return to the country in a day or two.” He frowned. “It’s a pity Augustus is still at sea.”

“Augustus is coming home?”

“Not for long. He enjoys his life in Rome. He’s paying a visit only, mostly to appease our parents, although I will be glad to see him.” Julius got to his feet. “I fear I have much to do, so I must leave you, but I greatly appreciate your help. It eases my mind to know you’re here and helping.”

Val laughed, but his mirth turned to a groan. Turning to see what had caused his dismay, Julius found a man standing at his shoulder, and not one he would have chosen to meet. The son and heir of the Duke of Northwich, his long face stern, nodded to him.

“Winterton.”

“Alconbury.”

While Julius would have welcomed meeting him somewhere less public, here was not the place to do or say all the things currently crowding into his brain. Their cordiality was for the benefit of the people sitting avidly around them, their ears flapping.

Alconbury stepped back, seemingly no more enthusiastic to see Julius than Julius was to see him. A nod sufficed for greeting, but the men did not take their eyes off each other, like prize-fighters waiting for an opening.

Alconbury was clever, quick, and dangerous. That much Julius knew, but there was much more about this man that puzzled him. Although ostensibly devoted to the Jacobite cause, as was his father, Alconbury was playing a different game, one Julius had not yet uncovered.

Alconbury’s dark eyes flashed. “The matter concerning your coming to town was not of our doing,” he said. “The lady is safe from us.”

Julius caught on at once. First, Alconbury knew why Julius was in town. Or he thought he did. Either way, Julius would give all the guineas in his pocket to find out who had told him. “I’m in town to arrange a few personal matters.”

Alconbury nodded. “Just so.”

Recently the man had rendered Julius and his cousins services that told Julius all was not perfect in the Northwich household. The old man had begun to rely on his second son, William, rather than on his heir, embroiling William in plots that were either too much for Alconbury or Alconbury refused to consider.

That was a very dangerous game. Northwich had more than one son, and his heir could only be deposed by death. Northwich was so single-minded, so fixed on his purpose, that Julius had no doubt he would dispose of an inconvenient child if he had to. Julius had no idea what Alconbury was up to or why he would consider such action, but what Alconbury did was none of his business. Unless his actions affected what Julius wanted to achieve.

He trusted nobody with the surname of Dankworth. This might be a two-pronged attack, one man lulling him into trusting him. Hell would freeze over before Julius would do that.

Alconbury’s jaw was set and his eyes held the dark gleam of menace. He was no more pleased to see Julius than Julius was to see him. That expression was no way to befriend someone. “Tell the lady I mean her no harm. Neither, as far as I can tell, does my father.”

If he had mentioned Eve’s name, Julius would have knocked him through the wall. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. “The lady is not your concern.”

Alconbury bowed. “I agree.” He closed his mouth with a snap, as if he planned to say something else, but had thought better of voicing it.

So they knew about Eve, or at any rate, Alconbury did. Did his father? Were they acting independently?

“I wish you good day, sir.” With a swish of the full skirts of his coat, Julius turned away and left. Once he’d reclaimed his things, he wasted no time, heading at a spanking pace in the direction of his house. He would dine quietly, collect the license in the morning, and return to Appleton.

“Sir.”

Fury spearing through him, Julius spun around to confront his adversary. “You followed me? Do you really want to provide a spectacle for the great unwashed?” Flipping back his coat, he let the jeweled hilt of his sword catch the light. “This time I have the means to stop you.”