He had not just designed the perfect life, he waslivingit. The last thing he wanted was for it to change.
“Lambley,” came a warm male voice.
The duke turned to see the masked Earl and Countess of Wainwright, who had met at one of his masquerades two seasons prior.
He bowed. “Lady X. Lord X.”
“You’ve outdone yourself once again,” said the earl.
“I believe you said that last week,” Julian murmured.
“It’s true every time,” the earl replied. “I’ve no idea how one could possibly improve on perfection, but you astonish me every week without fail.”
“I thoughtIastonished you,” teased his wife.
The earl scooped her into his arms. “I’m about to astonishyou,” he growled, and carried his bride up the marble stairs without remembering to take his leave from the duke.
Julian grinned. This was what his masquerades werefor. To enable those capable of love to find it, often in the hearts of the person they least expected, just like the earl and his countess had done.
How horrified they had been when they first discovered the identity of their nameless lover! And how besotted they were now. An heir at home in the nursery, and his parents as wildly in love as ever.
Julian made his way through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries, accepting compliments, pointing those who wanted something in the direction of that which they desired.
It took half an hour to cross from the rear staircase to the door leading to the receiving vestibule. A record. It often took much longer. His parties were beginning to run themselves.
A footman rushed forward to open the door.
Julian exited the ballroom and stepped into the relative quiet of the receiving room. When the door closed behind him, the buzz of a hundred hushed conversations and the footfalls of the dancers were no longer audible. Only the muffled music from the orchestra slipped through the cracks around the door like the scented smoke of exotic incense.
The night butler grinned at him. “Lambley.”
“Fairfax,” the duke returned. “Anything to report?”
“All is calm and as you predicted.”
Exactly how Julian liked it.
Fairfax handed over the masquerade log for Julian’s perusal.
Anthony Fairfax had been Julian’s friend long before he became the night butler. As a member of the ton, he recognized the members of the beau monde on sight—and as a former degenerate gambler, Fairfax was well versed in the underworld as well, making him uniquely suited to match faces to invitations.
Anthony Fairfax had been a common sight amongst the beau monde until his family’s debts drove him out of the ballrooms and into the gaming hells.
It had not gone well for him at the tables, until the day his new wife won him at a game of cards. And then it had gone worse. Fairfax did not have enough blunt to manage his own matters, much less take on another dependent. That he married “beneath” him only distanced him further from the bon ton.
And then Julian had offered him employment. The money Fairfax needed, at the cost of severing his remaining ties with polite society. A proper gentleman was notemployed, for God’s sake. And definitely not as a night butler at Mayfair’s most scandalous masquerades. A veritableservant. What a fall from grace!
In truth, Fairfax’s position had risen. He controlled access to the most exclusive balls in London. He knew the identities of the masked lords and ladies, checking their blushing faces against the coded register of permitted guests before determining who would be allowed inside and who would not. Fairfax enjoyed more popularity now with certain sets than he ever had as an impoverished, but respectable, gentleman. And infinitely more power.
Julian could certainly understand the allure of that.
And, he admitted, it was rather heady to know who was who, and doing what with whom. It was one of the ways Julian maintained control over his surroundings. By giving people what they desired, predicting the outcome of that action became easy. He much preferred being the grantor of wishes than the victim of whims. Impulsiveness was for fools.
He handed the log back to Fairfax.
“It’s a new year,” Julian said. “You haven’t asked me to augment your salary.”
“You raised it last year,” Fairfax reminded him. “If I tossed out a number, you’re likely to double it.”
