CHAPTER 1
“Marriage is the tomb of love.”
Giacomo Casanova
AUGUST 13, 1821
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 amusicale 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.
