Chapter 1

"Marriage is the tomb of love."

Giacomo Casanova

Julius had enjoyed the past ten days in Abbott's company. The heir to the Viscount Moreland, Abbott was an athletic but academic fellow who was wound tighter than a field drum. Not unlike his own father, Lord Snarling. Which was why Julius had delighted in poking the tense young man.

If Abbott only knew I am doing him a great favor.

Abbott and Julius had been seen in public together the length and breadth of Mayfair, attending dinners and soirées, even a musicale that had been rather an earful of pitchy singing and off-key playing.

All the while, Abbott had been forced to put up with Julius's antics. The devil had taken Julius, who had been painstaking in pushing the man past his limits. Eventually, Julius reasoned, Abbott was certain to crack into uproarious laughter. He simply needed to bide his time.

Currently, Julius and Abbott stood by the corner, observing the home of Mr. Frederick Smythe amid the loud clatter of carriage wheels. Smythe was at the top of their list of suspects, but, thus far, they had not had an opportunity to enter his home or speak with him.

The night sky was adorned with silvery clouds and a large full moon. Abbott, who topped him by a couple of inches, seemed torn between taking pleasure in the view and finding a method to enter Smythe's home.

"How do you plan to get in without an invitation?"

Julius waved his hand in dismissal, contemplating the arriving guests with a devoted gaze. There was no time for conversation. He must find someone they could accompany into the illustrious ball. Abbott growled in irritation, causing Julius to clamp his lips together to prevent a smirk. His conspirator considered him a dandified fool, but appearances were deceiving. Julius knew his elaborate sartorial elegance tricked many into underestimating him. A complicated deception he wove, like those he had observed Lord Snarling engage in when negotiating on behalf of the Crown.

Not to mention, it is entertaining to discern others' reactions to the facade.

Abbott stepped back to provide the space Julius had requested, and Julius returned his attentions to the parade of guests. Someone had done wrong by his good chum, and he was committed to securing the safety of Brendan and his bride.

Abbott cracked his knuckles, pacing while he awaited direction with obvious impatience. Julius ignored him. Inevitably the other heir would grow accustomed to Julius's methods and, thus, realize he was not the bacon-brains Abbott believed he was.

A few minutes later, Julius was rewarded. "I see my great-aunt Gertrude, with her husband." Without a backward glance, he strode swiftly toward the Smythe home. Abbott followed hesitantly, his footsteps heavy on the trodden earth. Julius weaved through the line of carriages in the rounded drive, skipping up to an elderly couple who were descending from the carriage in front.

He grinned widely, throwing his arms up in dramatic emphasis. "Aunty!"

Aunty Gertrude, a wizened old lady with stooped shoulders in blue silk, squinted up at her great-nephew before clapping her hands in excitement. "Julius, my boy!"

Julius leaned down, and a trembling hand was extended from beneath an embroidered shawl. She pinched his cheek between arthritic fingers, beaming with pleasure. Behind her was his great-uncle, an ancient peer in old-fashioned breeches, white stockings, and buckled shoes. He had the appearance of a corpse risen from the dead to be dressed in fine clothing by an undertaker. One had to respect that the old man could still attend events such as these at his advanced years.

Aunty Gertrude squinted up at him from aging moss-colored eyes, the tiny brown motes barely visible to any but his keen vision. "What are you doing here, boy?"

Beside him, Abbott stood at attention.

"I was just walking by with my friend." Julius gestured in Abbott's direction, who visibly gritted his pearly chewers. He could read the other heir's mind as if the words were inked upon a page. They were on a small but elegant estate near the Thames—private property—which belied the notion that they happened to just be passing by.

Julius suppressed a smile. Abbott was far too direct for his own good. Obfuscation and gracious airs were excellent distractions when pursuing one's goals. Aunty Gertrude would never question his claim, stated with such confidence and charm.

"Are you attending an event?"

"It is the Smythe ball. Frederick has a daughter he has been attempting to marry off for years. She is a dear girl, but the boys do not like her, I am afraid."

"That is a pity. I was hoping to catch up, but if you are otherwise occupied …" Julius trailed off with deliberation, baiting his great-aunt to invite them in.

"Come with us, Julius! Frederick will be delighted to have such strapping young men in attendance."

Julius gladly joined arms with his beloved relation and gently assisted her up the stairs into the lit entrance hall. Abbott puffed behind him, his reluctance obvious as he trod alongside the frail great-uncle, who doddered up the steps at a snail's pace.

Soon they stood in the long receiving line, Julius chattering with his great-aunt to keep her from questioning his earlier assertions.

Abbott peered over the heads of the gathered nobles, his attention occupied. Julius wondered what had caught his eye, but remained engrossed in the discussion with Aunty Gertrude, ensuring she did not have time to think.

Julius noted when they reached a shadowed corridor leading away from the main hall. Placing Aunty Gertrude's arm with care on that of her husband, Julius murmured an excuse and stepped away.

"It is time to go."

Abbott, who was still staring toward the head of the line, was slow to comprehend that the statement was directed at him. Julius peered at him with a questioning look, wondering what had Abbott so riveted, before bobbing his head toward the dim side hall. He did not want to gaze in the same direction and attract any undue attention to their imminent disappearance.

Abbott appeared reluctant to leave the line, but followed him away. Soon they stood together in the low light of the library in silence.

"Do you have any notion how ridiculous you look in this—" Abbott threw his hand out at Julius's gold coat.

"Now, now, Little Breeches. There is no need to tell Banbury stories … I am unduly handsome in my brocade, which we both well know."

Abbott snorted in frustration.

Julius narrowed his eyes at the taller man. Not that Julius was small in stature, but Abbott and his father, Viscount Moreland, were formidable. "Did a certain young woman capture your eye out in the hall? You seemed rather bemused."

Abbott looked away, unwilling to discuss what—or who—had caught his attention.

"Is Aunty not surprised at our departure? I thought you were to catch up?" Abbott's sneer was a thin attempt to shift the subject.

Julius grinned, amused by the obvious ploy. "Aunty will quite forget she saw me tonight by the time she reaches the head of the line. She and Uncle are quite easily distracted these days, and I saw an opportunity to proceed with our plans."

"What is the plan?"

"I think I shall wander about and gather information while you search Smythe's office."

Julius could see Abbott wished to argue about the roles Julius had assigned. Sneaking through a gentleman's private places was not an honorable pastime, but they were both aware that Julius was better at subterfuge.

There were six men to investigate, but Smythe was the man at the top of their list. He was the heir to a baron, which made him a promising suspect because the murdered Baron of Filminster had been seated with other barons the day of his murder.

There were whispers of Smythe selling off assets in the clubs, and Filminster had pointed out that a suspect with some sort of financial difficulty could be driven to a passionate act, such as murder, if the late baron had threatened his future inheritance.

Abbott relented. "I will meet you in the ballroom when I am done."

Julius nodded. "Have fun, Little Breeches. You might learn interesting things when you search through a man's private belongings."

Abbott frowned, but before he could respond, Julius left him to his devices.

He circulated the ballroom to participate in numerous dull conversations, all the while contemplating their host. Smythe was embroiled in a discussion in the corner with several older gentlemen, not providing an opportunity for Julius to engage him in discreet discourse. Looking about, Julius examined the guests for someone who might illuminate Smythe's circumstances until he could approach the gentleman directly.

Thirty feet away, Julius spotted Lord and Lady Astley, along with other haughty members of their set, exiting to take air on the terrace. The ballroom had grown stuffy from the warm summer night.

Julius dashed after them. Lord Astley was the perfect individual to pump for information, and would be unsuspecting as an acquaintance to Lord Snarling himself.

Stepping outside behind them, Julius nearly walked straight into the now-frozen crowd of guests. He halted abruptly and lifted his head to see what had riveted their silent attention. His jaw fell open.

Bad show!

Abbott had his arms around a young woman, framed by the full moon. Worse—he had his tongue down her throat!

This is what comes of being wound so tight!

The other heir had taken leave of his senses. The embracing couple disengaged, their movements cautious, and Abbott stepped forward as if to shield her from the gaze of scandalized guests.

Assessing her unique height, Julius realized with a growing sense of horror who the young woman was. Smythe, the future lord they were here to investigate, had a daughter of marriageable age. And Abbott had compromised her—the offspring of their prime suspect!

Damned idiot!

Abbott's expression was bemused in the light spilling out from the ballroom, but he was sobering up with haste when he took in the crowd of guests who were now agog, staring at him as if he had sprouted a second head.

At the back, Julius stood appalled—dumbfounded—before casting his anxious gaze down to stroke through his mop of wheat curls. A moment later, he threw up his hands in defeat. There was nothing he could do to intercede.

"It's Moreland's heir!" The impasse was broken when Lady Astley, an older peeress with graying blonde hair and critical tendencies, shrieked. Several guests flinched at the volume.

"Is that Miss Smythe?" asked Lord Astley, whom she was holding by the arm.

Julius cleared his throat, trying to think how to assist Abbott in his hour of need. "I am sure it is not what we think. Lord Abbott is a nobleman of the highest order."

Abbott stared at Julius, accomplices in their diabolical invasion of this ball to investigate the host. The thought of the innocent Miss Smythe being destroyed thus was incomprehensible. What had caper-brained Abbott been thinking?

Even as Julius's thoughts raced, he could observe Abbott considering his limited options as he held Julius's gaze over the heads of the crowd between them. Julius stared back, stricken as he comprehended what the man was about to do. He shook his head, gesturing to stay Abbott from his announcement?—

"I just offered for Miss Smythe's hand in marriage … and she accepted."

Bloody hell!

Lord Snarling was sure to give Julius grief over this.

Audrey Gideon lifted the colorful starling from the terrace paving, the bird's iridescent feathers flashing in the bright light. It was a warm afternoon; the cheerful sun shined upon the secluded garden of Lord Stirling's London townhouse.

The little bird had flown into one of the many sparkling windows facing the garden and fallen to the masonry. Wishing to assess the starling's condition, Audrey wrapped it with care in her lace handkerchief to prevent it from panic-flapping its wings into further injury. She walked over to a stone bench set close to the table upon which sat her valise.

Having taken her seat, she raised the fragile creature to eye level and released a wing from within the linen folds while using a gentle fingertip to hold the appendage in place.

It was as she had suspected. The poor bird had broken it, but the damage did not seem too drastic. Fortunately, Audrey had brought her leather valise down with her to take inventory. Between its contents and the shrubbery growing against the terrace balustrade, she ought to have all she needed to treat the creature and set its wing.

Audrey exhaled deeply, pleased to have something useful to do. Since her father, Dr. John Gideon, had died, Audrey had been living under the roof of Lord Stirling, her father's close friend. London had proved boring. All she could think of was returning home to Stirling once she reached her majority. There she would be back in the village where she had grown up and be able to return to doing what she loved—assisting the villagers with their ailments.

In the meantime, while she was stuck in the tumultuous city of the loud and unwashed, it would be a blessed respite to treat the helpless creature trembling in her hands as a reminder of better days when she had assisted her father.

Terse voices wafted out the nearby terrace doors, and Audrey winced when she realized she was seated near Lord Stirling's study.

"Lady Hays has informed me of your antics last evening with Moreland's heir."

"Tsk, tsk. So formal. Aunty Gertrude informed you of my antics last evening."

It was no secret that Lord Julius Trafford and the Earl of Stirling did not get along. Lord Trafford was a flippant dandy, while Lord Stirling was a solemn and traditional gentleman who paid the utmost mind to propriety. Audrey knew this because she had petitioned the earl several times to allow her to return to the village, but he insisted she remain in Town to protect her reputation. Because she was still considered a minor in the eyes of the law, she had not much choice but to concede until she reached her majority.

Audrey grimaced. Casting about, she attempted to find a new location to sit and do her work upon the starling's wing. Nobles led such privileged and impractical lives, far removed from the pragmatism of ordinary people. It was sure to be a ridiculous squabble about inconsequential issues, and it would be awkward indeed to eavesdrop on the argument between father and son.

Especially if one of them catches sight of me!

There was no other suitable location on the terrace. Looking down, Audrey considered her options. The bird was in need of assistance. Attempting to move both her things and the bird would be difficult. If her father were here to advise her, she knew what he would say.

"The needs of the patient outweigh any other considerations."

Shaking her head, Audrey reached a decision. The starling's needs superseded etiquette. Trauma would lead to further injury and a longer recovery time for the wing to mend. She must treat the bird with urgency and ignore the quarrel within.

Being summonedto Lord Snarling's study always provoked a sense of wrathful dread in the pit of Julius's stomach, but he fought the urge to twist his signet ring. Lord Snarling had sharp eyes and would note the sign of distress in Julius's demeanor, so with the careful deliberation of a jungle cat stalking his prey, he relaxed his body into a languid position and watched his father watching him.

It had been the better part of two decades since Lord Stirling had spent meaningful time with Julius. In those days, his father had possessed a ready smile and had made time for his kin. But the earl of today was a reserved man who had no time for petty considerations such as family. He had important duties to the Crown to take care of, both here and on the Continent.

"Why did you attend the Smythe ball without an invitation?"

"I wished to do so, so I did."

"Why were you in the company of such a scoundrel?"

Julius nearly choked in shock. Abbott? A scoundrel? The young man was far more upstanding and honorable than any to be found in high society. The Abbotts were precious gems of whom he was becoming quite fond. Last evening had been an aberration on the other heir's part. An incident brought about by Abbott's lack of carnal relations, if Julius's inquiries were anything to judge by. Imagine a healthy young man at Abbott's age abstaining from women! It was bound to end as poorly as it had done.

"Abbott is a good man. He offered for Miss Smythe, did he not?"

Lord Snarling's visage displayed his mistrust. He and Julius were the same height, but while Julius was long and lean, his father had a solid build with no signs of surplus. Lord Snarling was the epitome of tailored elegance, the cut of his garb displaying his form to perfection. It could not be more evident that Julius took after his mother, with his lean face and form, while his father was renowned for his handsome square features.

The one thing they did share was the wheat hair.

Or some of it.

Julius tugged on the short brown locks behind his ear. Lord Snarling followed the self-conscious gesture, so Julius smirked and turned it into a condescending rub to accompany the roll of his eyes.

Never display weakness.

A lesson learned from the man gazing at him with a humorless disdain. From a time when his father had still bothered to teach lessons. It was an age since Lord Snarling had made time for his family, and Julius had many years of practice in hiding his true thoughts. A matter of pride to protect himself from the harsh realities of existence.

"I fail to comprehend what you were doing there. You have persisted in your pursuit of unsuitable females, so why attend a ball with marriageable young women?"

Julius thought about his fears for Brendan Ridley, and the danger that the baron and his wife were in. He would never admit anything so personal to Lord Snarling. His father, who had abandoned his family to their solitary fates so he could do his duty to the realm? What of his duty to their household? These thoughts raised the anger that was his constant companion. Anger for what had been, but was no more because Lord Snarling was far too occupied for such trivial issues as love and family loyalty. It was why Julius appreciated his allies as he did. Brendan was a friend he could rely on who had earned his loyalty, and Julius would stand by his friends until the end at any cost. His companions were the true riches of the world.

"I was bored." Julius shrugged with pretended nonchalance.

Lord Snarling tensed his jaw, staring at Julius for several moments.

"You are willfully irresponsible," the earl finally stated in a beleaguered tone.

"And you are sufficiently priggish for both of us," Julius responded in a modulated voice that belied the fury burning in his breast.

"Do you take anything seriously?"

"Do you ever flex a smile?"

Lord Snarling's face firmed with disapproval, and Julius saw the words exiting his lips before his father could consider their content. "Your mother would be ashamed of whom you have become."

Julius had made his father react with genuine emotion. Huzza!

Then the words filtered through his defenses, and Julius comprehended just what his father had declared. Straightening up, Julius fired back with indignant force, dumbfounded that his father had dared to bring Lady Stirling into his withering criticism.

"My mother is ashamed of whom you have become!"

The earl scowled, turning away to stare at the empty hearth. Julius's mother smiled down from her position above the mantel. More beautiful than any woman could hope to be. More lifelike than a Da Vinci or Michelangelo. Gone but not forgotten.

They had reached yet another impasse in which neither father nor son would budge a fraction of an inch.

His father had broached the unspoken subject. All the rage Julius carried compelled him to respond. The effort to restrain his thoughts was too exhausting to bear any longer.

"When was the last time you spoke with your daughter? I have not seen Penelope since I left for my Grand Tour six years ago! She is a debutante who just enjoyed her come-out in Paris. What of your wife? My mother? When did you last exchange words with her? And Pierce remains at Oxford, or visits with his friends over the breaks, because there is no one to come home to. I had to attend a house party to even spend any time with my own brother."

Lord Snarling had his back turned, but Julius could swear he saw his father flinch with infinitesimal tension. Bravo, it was well deserved. Lady Stirling was a magnificent countess who lit every room she entered with her grace and charm. Since she was wed to Lord Snarling, then his mother must be considered Lady Smiling. Friend to all. His beloved parent. Whom Julius had not seen since before his Grand Tour because she had departed to visit her brother, a diplomat with the British Embassy in France, prior to his return.

Even her good humor had reached its limit after years of neglect from her husband, who had been increasingly busy with important dealings. Too busy to spend time with his nearest and dearest. So it was hardly a surprise that Lady Smiling had left for Paris. And when the time had come for her to return … she had simply remained in France along with his little sister.

Julius could not blame her. He liked to think she was enjoying herself in the city of bonhomie across the Channel after years of miserable attrition in London. His mother deserved to be happy, even if Julius missed her so much it made his heart ache to think of his fractured family. It was why he never wanted to marry. Julius refused to mature into the grave husk his father had become, or to be trapped in a debilitating marriage with a partner who ignored him. This place had been a home filled with laughter and joyful faces once. It was why he slept at his clubs or Aunty Gertrude's with increasing frequency—it was too depressing to return home and reflect on better times. He would not allow his soul to freeze into icy oblivion as Lord Snarling had done.

"You know not of what you speak." His father had found his tongue.

"I know you had a wife and family who loved you, but you discarded the true wealth you possessed in service to the state. All those diplomatic missions, all those deals negotiated behind closed doors on behalf of others—was it worth it? You have lost your closest. Instead of collecting your wife and daughter from Paris—apologizing for your selfish neglect—you have allowed us to grow apart in the name of duty! What of your duty to us? We were a family once."

Lord Snarling failed to reply, still facing the fireplace. Julius was shocked at his own temerity in raising these forbidden subjects. He had never allowed his true thoughts to be aired before, but it was cathartic to express the rage buried deep within. "What are we now? The answer is simple—we are nothing. There is no we."

Julius reached the limits of his patience. His weakness had been displayed for Lord Snarling to witness. If he allowed any more words to escape in outrage, he was certain to regret it, so he rose to his feet and exited the study through the open terrace doors, shutting them behind him with a decisive click.

The sunshine blinded him after the gloom of the study, and Julius squinted against the bright light while seeking his bearings. When his vision cleared, he was alarmed to find he was peering at Miss Gideon, his father's ward.

Silver-gray eyes stared at him with startled distress from under the rim of a straw bonnet, a quivering starling in her delicate hands and her bric-à-brac sprawled on the table before her. Little Audrey had grown into a lovely young woman, with curling flaxen hair that was escaping her hairpins and a little button nose that he had tweaked in his obnoxious youth. Julius instinctively noticed the swell of her full bosom with appreciation, before recollecting that Miss Gideon was a good girl and Julius had no interest in settling down. Good girls were a plague to be avoided with resolve and persistence, or he would end up like his unhappy parents.

"Miss Gideon." He gave a polite bow, aware that the young lady had overheard personal grievances being aired from within, but all he could do was pretend he had no cares.

"Lord Trafford," she responded, with a little nod of her head.

And, with that, Julius swept away with all the grace he could muster after discovering his crushing weakness had been observed not by one, but two people.