Prologue

"The reader of these Memoirs will discover that I never had any fixed aim before my eyes, and that my system, if it can be called a system, has been to glide away unconcernedly on the stream of life, trusting to the wind wherever it led."

Giacomo Casanova

Lord Julius Trafford, heir to the Earl of Stirling, toyed with the gold and emerald signet ring on his finger, twisting it again and again. It had been a gift from his maternal grandfather, a blithesome fellow whom Julius missed with a fierce yearning. He would give most anything to debate with the old man one last time about the various merits of phaetons versus curricles on the streets of London.

Recent days had been troubling. His friend, Brendan Ridley, had returned home in the early morning after the King's coronation to find his father slain on the study floor. That had been more than two weeks earlier, and the study had since been cleaned and rearranged. Yet, it was still macabre to consider he was sitting in the same room as the brutal crime.

In the aftermath of the murder, Brendan had been moments away from being arrested for patricide, but a young lady had cleared his name at the cost of her reputation. Miss Lily Abbott claimed to have spent the evening with him. It was ridiculous, of course, because she was an innocent miss. However, Miss Abbott had borne witness to both Brendan's arrival at and departure from the home of his paramour that night, so when the capricious widow would not stand as an alibi, Miss Abbott had taken her place and claimed it was the Abbotts' home where Brendan had spent the night.

All a lot of tosh, in Julius's view. Polite society's rules were cumbersome and inept, or the young woman could have simply told the truth without all the unnecessary fuss. Brendan might not have swung from a hangman's noose, but he was snared by the parson's noose—he was now encumbered with a proper wife.

Which left Julius as the last free man standing within their set.

Nevertheless, despite his pique at recent events, he had poked around in an attempt to discover who was the true perpetrator of the atrocity. Brendan was a dear friend, after all. It could not be allowed to stand that a murderous fiend had set up his chum to swing.

Nothing had yet come to light until two days earlier, when Brendan's bride was attacked by a panicking footman. The killer had hired the servant to hide his identity and to search for a supposedly damning letter that the victim, the late Baron of Filminster, might have written before his untimely death.

It had been fortunate that Brendan's cantankerous butler, Michaels, had been the son of a gamekeeper. An excellent shot, by all accounts. The new baroness had been saved by a musket ball to the head of her attacker.

Julius did not appreciate fearing for his friends, which was why he was sitting in Filminster's study for the third time in as many days.

"I need your help."

Brendan's declaration punctuated the tension in the room.

Across from Julius, Lady Filminster's brother straightened in his seat, presumably eager to help resolve the danger his sister faced.

"What has happened? Is Lily safe?" Abbott looked like hell, the dark circles framing his eyes speaking to his lack of sleep.

Brendan cleared his throat. "I have discovered the letter that my … father … wrote. I now know what led to his murder on the night of the coronation."

Julius picked at his lapel of purple silk, repressing his annoyance. Brendan had not shared vital information with him, despite their years of friendship, and he would no longer maintain his silence.

"Your father … or your uncle?" Julius purred, knowing full well that it would grate on Brendan's nerves.

The baron turned from the window to scowl at him. "You know of that?"

Julius arched an eyebrow in response.

Abbott interjected in a belligerent tone. "What is Trafford talking about?"

Brendan sighed. "I suppose the gossip has been circulating, so I might as well speak the truth … The late baron was my uncle who married my mother to save the family from shame. My true father, his older brother, died weeks before the wedding."

Abbott pulled a face at this unsavory disclosure. "Faugh!"

Brendan responded with a sardonic laugh. "Just so."

"May I read the letter?" Julius straightened from his lazing position, energized to find any clue to the happenings of the past two weeks.

Brendan pulled a folded page from inside his coat, walking over and handing it to Julius to read. Abbott watched on with the tension of a tuning fork while Julius digested its contents, which had been censored by dripping ink to mar key words into infinite obscurity.

Sir Robert Peel

London, July 19, 1821

Sir,

It has come - - my attention that the true heir to Lord - - - - - - - - has not been acknowledged.

I was speaking with his lordship before the coronation, and he informed me of his recent bout of ill health. He spoke fondly of his youngest brother, informing - - of his strength, intelligence, and wit at great length. There was no mention of his lordship's middle brother, Peter, who you may be aware died near twenty years - - -.

Peter and I attended Oxford together, - - - his death was tragic - - - unexp- - - - -. I have thought of him often over the years, which is why I feel the need to pass this information - - - - - -u.

Before departing England, Peter married a wom- - of Catholic descent. She convert- - - - - - - - - were married - - - - - Church of England, before leaving our shores. I maintained correspondence with him until his death. He had written just months before his death to inform me of the birth of his son.

I cannot say for certain where the boy and his mother are - - - - - all these years, but he would be the true heir and I implore you to look into th- - matter. - - - - - - - - - is the true heir to the title of - - - - - and his father's legacy cannot be ignored.

I understand the trials of being a second son, and I cann- - allow this matter to stand. Whether - - - - terrible injustice is a mistake due to ignorance of the child Peter sired, or a deliberate obfuscation of the facts, I must speak on my friend's behalf. His son is the true heir and must be found immediately. I will locate our shared correspondence when I return to Somerset and have them forwarded to - - - - - - - - - - -

J. Ridley, Baron of Filminster

Julius whistled through his teeth, looking up to shake his head in disbelief. "This provides a serious motive for murder. This is both wealth and power at stake."

Abbott held out his hand with an expectant air; Julius handed the letter to him without comment. He read intently before sagging back, the implications setting in. "Lily is in danger if the killer believes his secret might be contained within the walls of Ridley House."

Julius snorted. "And the culprit would be correct, considering the letter you are holding."

"There is insufficient information to reveal his identity!"

Julius twisted his lips at Abbott's inane protest. "There is enough. An elderly lord, suffering from a recent bout of ill health, with a younger brother named Peter who died some twenty years ago, and an even younger brother set to inherit his title. Who has likely killed the baron to conceal the knowledge of the true heir in order to secure his inheritance? It drastically reduces the number of suspects."

"Precisely," Brendan responded. "Lily and I spent last evening and this morning comparing a recent copy of Debrett's to a copy from thirty years ago to compile a list of peers. The runner, Briggs, is investigating what happened to each of the Peters to learn the circumstances of their deaths. Thus far, we have a list of six heirs who might fit the description, which is why I need your help."

Julius lowered his gaze to the ring between his agitating forefinger and thumb.

Abbott leaned forward. "What do you need?"

Brendan cleared his throat, twisting the toe of his boot on the bright Aubusson rug adorning his study floor while his dark chestnut curls fell forward over his face. "It is much to ask …"

Julius smirked. "That has not stopped you before."

"This is different, Julius. My bride is in danger." Brendan faltered before continuing. "If anything happened to Lily, I would never forgive myself."

Nor would I, since the young woman saved a dear friend.

Abbott rose to his feet, interrupting the tête-à-tête between Julius and Brendan.

"Whatever you need, I will do it."

Brendan's brandy eyes flickered to Abbott, and he nodded. "Thank you … Aidan."

Julius heaved a heavy sigh. Why not? Investigating this matter would fill his idle hours. It would be a lark to solve a murder, he supposed. And he could not allow harm to befall his friends.

"I am in. What is next?"

Returning to the window, Brendan leaned against the sill. "I need your help to investigate these six men. Lily and I are still considered scandalous for our supposed tryst on the night of the coronation. Although the scandal is abating now that we have wed, it is difficult to be discreet when all eyes are upon us. You two gentlemen, as single young bucks around Town, will be welcomed into the homes of polite society with high hopes you might make a match with their daughters or nieces. That access will allow you to search for information that might shed light on their involvement."

Abbott rubbed his face, mirroring Julius's horror to engage with marriageable young ladies. In the normal course of things, he would never agree to such risky interactions. If he did not keep his wits about him, he might find himself caught in the parson's trap like the rest of his friends.

But this is for Brendan and the courageous baroness.

Abbott responded first. "Where is the list?"

Brendan shot a questioning look at Julius, so he shrugged with deliberate nonchalance, extinguishing the anxiety that such a notion caused in his gut. "If we travel as a pair, we should be safe even within the perilous ballrooms of the infamous marriage mart."