Chapter 10

"I have met with some of them — very honest fellows, who, with all their stupidity, had a kind of intelligence and an upright good sense, which cannot be the characteristics of fools."

Giacomo Casanova

Audrey bandaged Julius, both of them wordless after the kiss they had shared in the mews. The sensation of his lips was still imprinted on hers, and her mind drifted to the possibilities as her gaze ran over the defined muscles of his torso. Julius was a fine specimen of manhood, she marveled, as she followed the trail of blond, crisp hair that covered his pectorals and arrowed down to his buckskins, the bandage the singular marring of the ridged expanse.

Did the second tone of his hair, the brown, present itself anywhere else on his lean body? It was a salacious train of thought she could not help chasing. It was the physician in her that was curious, she assured herself, nibbling on her lip and trying to not imagine joining him in his bed.

"You should go," whispered Julius.

She nodded. Julius was as tempted as she was, and if she remained a moment longer, they would throw caution to the wind.

With great reluctance, she rose to gather her things before exiting his room without another word.

Down the hall, she entered the bedchamber she had been using since their second night at Lady Hays's. In a bid to keep her mind occupied while Julius rested—certainly not because she would race down the hall and fling herself into his bed to discover the pleasure between a man and a woman—she crossed to the table and put her things down.

Rummaging through her father's valise, she found the items she needed and placed them down on the surface. Focusing on what she was doing was an attempt to still her racing thoughts as she collected the birdcage from the corner and put it down next to her supplies with a distinctive clink.

She lifted Flapper from the cage and unwound the dressing on his wing. The starling was docile in her hands, fluttering his free wing from time to time.

Julius Trafford was a wild creature, like the starling which cocked his head around to look about the room while considering his path to escape. Could the tempestuous Corinthian be tamed, she mused while she worked.

When he stops resisting his future, he will settle down to some degree.

She hoped he would never be fully tamed, that his larger-than-life spirit would remain intact when he discovered his calling as a gentleman.

It was tempting to daydream about being his bride, the one who would seek out new adventures by his side long into the future. She would never be bored if such an event came to pass, but she was a fool to even hope that she would be the one to partially tame such a free spirit.

He was the epitome of the bedside memoirs. A Casanova who pursued excitement and floated upon the ebb and flow of the universe's whims.

"I think you will fly soon, little Flapper," she whispered in the quiet of the room. The thought made her eyes sting with the threat of tears. Nostalgia that the time was ending between her and the little creature was definitely not an allegory for her strange friendship with the dandy down the hall, she assured herself.

Putting the bird in the cage, Audrey went to lie upon her bed to rest. Their hours had been long, and her melancholy must be brought on by fatigue, she decided. In a couple of hours, she was to serve watch from the grooms' room above the mews, ensuring no one was following Julius's friends when they entered the property. She should take the opportunity to sleep while she could, to have her wits about her when she stood sentry later.

At the prearrangedtime in the letter that Lady Abbott had delivered, Julius opened the door to the alley to find two grooms standing about, waiting for him. They rushed in through the open doorway, glancing around to ensure no one was watching them. Without a word, all three men entered the mews, Julius leading them into the tack room, which displayed neat leather straps and shining metal in the low light. Some hooks were empty of the tack that had been used when Aunty Gertrude and Lord Hays had left for the country.

All three of them were quiet, careful that their voices did not carry, until Julius shut the door behind them to seal them into the room.

The grooms swept their coats and hats off to reveal Brendan Ridley and Lord Aidan Abbott. Brendan shook his head, his chestnut locks bouncing in disarray as he looked Julius up and down. "It is good to see you, old chap."

"I missed you, too, Ridley."

Abbott, whom Julius had met a few weeks earlier when his sister had married Brendan, narrowed his brown eyes. "Not with this again. He is Filminster, now! A baron of the realm, you … you …!"

Julius smirked with deliberation. Provoking the rather humorless laddie was a personal crusade. Abbott needed to approach life with more flippancy, and Julius was the man to see to it.

"Better a clown than a fool."

Abbott clenched his jaw.

Brendan suppressed a smile, well familiar with Julius's tactics. "What happened? How did you get injured, and how did you reach the conclusion that the killer was one of those three men?"

Julius wished to twist his ring, but he was wearing gloves, so he clasped his hands behind him. Walking away from his chums, Julius admitted to himself that his stupidity embarrassed him. He could have been killed, which was not a desire of his, and Audrey had already taken him to task for his limited planning. These friends were going to be far more vocal about their outrage than she.

"I may have sent each of the suspects a blackmail letter to learn which of them would be drawn out."

"Thunder and turf! You bird-witted chucklehead!" Brendan cursed.

Silence ensued from behind his back until Abbott exclaimed in a low bark, "So, which one did it?"

Julius pulled a face at the wall. This was the mortifying part, where his plan had fallen apart.

"I do not know. The letters pointed to three different locations, all of which I visited on the same morning. Someone followed me from one of those locations to my father's home and attacked me in the street. Fortunately, Miss Gideon came running out with a sword to frighten him off, but I was stabbed during the scuffle with the ruffian."

Silence fell again until, suddenly, Abbott exploded. "You fool! You could have been slaughtered in the street!"

Julius puffed in rejection. At the notion of being killed, not the statement which was accurate.

"Better a fool than a clown."

The inane remark was thrown out without thought, a habit of his to arouse Abbott from his proper behavior. His response was a snarl. When Julius turned back around, he found Brendan raking his hair in agitation and Abbott had stalked over to glare at the polished tack, his shoulders tense with anger.

No one spoke for several seconds, each seeking composure, until Abbott spun on his heel and came rushing forward to where Julius stood. Julius stepped back in alarm—he could scarcely credit that the very proper Abbott would punch a chap who had just been stabbed a few days earlier. He stepped back again, discovering his reaction time still slowed by his recovery, just as Abbott's arms wrapped around him in a powerful embrace, lifting him off his feet.

Ye gods—what is this?

As his feet dangled in the air, his lungs crushed against Abbott's broad chest and his sutures twinging in protest, Julius came to a realization. The other heir was strong!

He did not consider himself a weakling, perfectly able to defend himself, but no one had ever lifted him up in the air in this manner.

"I am glad you are well, Trafford," Abbott growled. Julius glanced over at Brendan, who shrugged his shoulders as if to say it was just as unexpected to him. Julius patted Abbott on the back in awkward response, his arms trapped to his sides.

"Thank … you." He was oddly touched by the sentiment, if not by the hug. He had grown rather fond of Abbott during their interactions, and he was helping Julius protect his dear chum, Brendan, after all.

Abbott lowered him back to his feet, turning away with a fierce flush blazing over his cheeks. Julius did not think the other heir made a habit of demonstrative gestures, so he appreciated the depth of sincere emotion that must have led to it.

"We were all anxious after the note. When Gwen returned with news you were alive …" Abbott shook his head, overcome.

Brendan nodded. "It is true. We had runners trying to find what happened to you, but we were afraid of putting you in danger, so our activities were limited. The blood on the note … Bloody hell, Julius, I thought I had gotten you killed!"

"I am made of resilient stuff."

His friend shook his head in disagreement. "Nay, Julius. This is not a jest. If Miss Gideon had not been there to help fend off the assailant, or to nurse you back to health, you may very well have been killed."

Julius glanced away. He was well aware of how much he owed the remarkable young woman. He was still trying to work out his thoughts so he could inform Audrey of his intentions. His proposal must be done so as to not raise false hopes. The notion of hurting her was more than he could bear, but his vow to never marry was at war with his honor. Subsequently, he had not settled on his precise offer to save her. The scandal she would encounter the moment they left Aunty Gertrude's to return to the real world would be great. His sense of loyalty rang strong in his veins, and offering a marriage in name only while he gallivanted around London did not sit right somehow. He needed to find a compromise that addressed all ramifications so that Audrey was well taken care of.

Seeking a distraction from these uncomfortable issues, Julius endeavored to change the subject.

"Has anything happened since we last met? Sunday, was it not?" It was hard to believe it was less than a week since the baroness had been startled by the intruder in the Ridleys' library.

Brendan cleared his throat but did not respond.

Abbott interjected from across the room. "An intruder broke into Filminster's study. Michaels fought him off but was injured."

Julius straightened in alarm. He had known Brendan's cantankerous butler for years, and often teased him into rousing arguments to break Michaels out of his belligerent moods. In other words … Julius was fond of the old man.

"Is he … well?" He tensed, bracing himself for the worst of news. Michaels was not young, and a hired thug could well wreak some damage.

"Michaels is recovering. He was back on his feet despite doctor's orders by the next morning. I have one of the footmen reporting to me, and I have ordered him to take it easy."

Julius exhaled in relief at this news. "So he is to work ten hours rather than twenty?"

Brendan grinned. "Most likely. I told him he could work four or five hours at most, so ten would be a good guess by my estimation. He is determined to prepare Ridley House for the renovations we plan with Barclay Thompson when he returns to London. Not to mention the new staff we hired that must be trained in the ways of his household." The last was laced with irony.

"He is serious about his work." Julius snorted. Unlike moi.

"He is serious about the Ridley family. I always thought the old goat was critical of me, but it turns out that it is just his personality. He is loyal."

A man I can respect.

Julius paced up and down, thinking about this revelation and the lack of progress he had made over the last few days. They now knew the killer must be Stone, Montague, or Scott. But beyond that, no further evidence had come to light.

"This is so frustrating. There must be a way to force progress in this investigation!"

Abbott snapped back, "Not if it gets you killed!"

Julius stopped, arms akimbo, as he tried to find a path forward. "I will remain low, in the hopes that it keeps the killer on the hook. If he believes there is a possibility he will remain unaccused—that he can still walk away from this crime as long as he can silence me—perhaps he will make a mistake in his desperation to keep me quiet."

Brendan nodded. "Agreed. You remain hidden."

"But," Julius continued, "we must come up with a plan to draw him out."

Abbott scowled. "You are not to go off and do something foolish!"

Julius was not accustomed to answering to anyone, but considering Audrey was with him, he would have to act with more discretion than the clumsy attempt earlier this week. He had no wish to meet his death, but, more than that, he could not drag Audrey into unnecessary danger.

"Agreed."

Audrey heardfootsteps on the stairs. She watched the two men departing from the alley, vigilant to her duties as guard, while she waited for Julius to join her.

"This situation is so frustrating," commented Julius as he entered the room and took a seat on one of the cots that the grooms slept on. "I feel I am so close to uncovering the killer, yet we make no progress. Three days of following these men has brought nothing to light other than … well … they all seem to go about their daily business with no cares about the murder."

Audrey moved away from the window after ensuring there were no signs of movement. His friends had disappeared from sight several moments earlier, and the alley was still clear, so her work was done for now. She walked over to take a seat on the opposite cot, watching Julius with sympathy.

"I would agree that none of these men appear to have dire emergencies pressing on their thoughts. On the other hand, the guilty party is a stone-cold killer, so we cannot expect him to behave as we would under similar circumstances. The baron may have been killed during the heat of passion, but that ruffian attacking you in the street was calculated."

Julius heaved a deep sigh. "There must be something we can do to draw him out."

Audrey felt selfish, falling silent while she struggled with her desire to remain on this adventure with Julius. Struggled with the notion that the longer it took to solve their dilemma, the longer she could spend time with him and enjoy herself.

A very cold reception awaited her when she returned home. Or a very hot one. Who knew how these upper-class types would react when riled? As long as she remained at Lady Hays's home, she could pretend all was well. She had not had so many interesting challenges since her father had passed away. Their time together was drawing to a close, and Audrey admitted knowing this filled her with a feeling of desolation.

"Perhaps … now that the killer knows where you live …" Audrey stopped, reluctant to propose the end to their excursions. She had enjoyed unfamiliar sights and sounds, discovered parts of London she would never revisit on her own, eaten dodgy food bought on the street, and savored strawberries all the more sweet because of the handsome beau who had purchased them for her. One could almost pretend he was courting her. Almost.

She fidgeted with the skirts of her mourning gown while her conscience fought with her desires.

Julius leaned forward, arching an eyebrow in question. She stared at his handsome face, taking in the dark brows and lashes at odds with his blond mop, and slipped her hands under her buttocks. Leaping into his arms for a third time seemed unreasonable. The sort of wanton behavior that Lady Astley would be gossiping about at this very instant, somewhere in London. Over a cup of tea with other matrons of the ton, perhaps.

A snake coiled and uncoiled in her belly at the thought of facing the world. She had never been considered scandalous until now. Perhaps eccentric by high society standards, because she had apprenticed with her father, but the ton was not aware of her routines in Stirling.

"… we could try the blackmail letters again, and perhaps some runners can watch the locations you specify, but I think we should focus on Lord Stirling's home."

He straightened up, his expression intrigued. "The killer sent his man to find out where I lived and then kill me once they could identify me from my address."

She nodded. "Why wait until you reached home, unless it was to learn where you reside?"

Julius blanched, pale beneath his tanned skin as he seemed to consider the hazards of his incomplete planning. "What I did was so reckless! What if my father had been at home? He may have become a target. He could still become a target when he returns home, if the killer believes he is involved in my scheme."

Audrey did not answer. It had, indeed, been a foolish move. His idea had been a stroke of brilliance, but the execution had demonstrated a lack of thoughtful prediction. If Julius had informed his friends of his intentions, they might have been able to hodgepodge a plan that would have been less risky and more effective.

"I must resolve this muddle!" he announced, waving his hands about. Julius was attired in plain buckskins, and a rather conservative green coat from his wardrobe. It was a far cry from the foppish attire he favored, but Audrey had been appreciating the sight of his lean, but muscular thighs encased in pale leather. The colorful garments he wore distracted from his unique features and athletic form, in her opinion.

She turned her thoughts back to the conversation at hand. It was painful to suggest that they end their mutual venture, but she could not be so self-absorbed as to withhold the inspiration that had struck her while she stood watch for the meeting downstairs.

"Precisely. If you return home, the killer's man might show up to silence you. If you attempt the blackmail again, he should appear. We could focus our attention on Lord Stirling's home, but with the proper preparations."

Julius sprang to his feet, pacing the alley formed by the two lines of cots. For a man of his height, he was light on his feet, barely making a sound on the wooden flooring, shoed in his Hessians. "I shall have to post men inside the house to protect the household."

Audrey's smile was tight, pleased that Julius was thinking through the plan to any unintended repercussions. She was of the opinion that the young lord was something of a genius, but he needed to employ a little more discipline to his schemes. When he did so, he would achieve his goals on a much larger scale. He needed to mature his cunning intelligence to discover his full potential.

"And placed along the street, including here in your aunt's home," she suggested.

Dejection twisted in her gut. She would not be present to see Julius come into his own. Nay, she would be living in Stirling, unable to return to London because of her damaged reputation. They were days, maybe hours from parting, and Audrey was not yet ready to say goodbye.

"I shall discuss it in the morning with Ridley and Abbott. They are returning after dawn."

"Is that wise?"

"I told them to walk up separately a good fifteen minutes apart so they do not arrive together as they did today."

There it was, confirmation that Julius was thinking his plans through to the end. He would be a magnificent lord for Stirling when the day came for him to fulfill the role.

She supposed she should be gladdened she had contributed to that distant future, but she could not shake off the dismal sensation that she could not share the journey. Her own path was yet to be determined now that she had scandal dogging her heels.