The Courtship of Julian St. Albans (Consulting Magic Book 1) Read online

  Julian grinned. "Of course, there's a bit of everything to serve the main house, you know how it is.

  "I do," said Alex with a chuckle. "It's just strange, you know, I'm so used to takeout and biscuits and tea from Tesco that I'd nearly forgotten how each big house is its own little ecology and economy, with almost everything coming from the land around it."

  "That's right, you know, you clean up so well I almost forgot you were one of the plebeian masses," teased Julian.

  "It's utterly spoiled my tastes, or so my family tells me," said Alex wryly. "They complain about the tea whenever they drop in uninvited."

  "Does this mean that they're nicer invited?" said Julian, taking a bite of crisp apple that made Alex's attention go to his mouth for a long moment.

  He made himself laugh, but he wasn't sure it hid the way he'd wanted to just stare at Julian's pink mouth. "It means they're never invited," he said.

  "I'd miss Emmy if she wasn't around," said Julian, a little more serious now.

  "As you should," said Alex. "Your sister's got your best interests at heart, I think." Again, he felt as though he'd reassured Julian of things that he himself wasn't so sure of, but the words were said and couldn't be taken back.

  Besides, it made Julian smile.

  "I hope she does let me hold a Courtship for her, once I'm married and the household's settled," said Julian with a soft, sad smile. "I think she gets lonely, sometimes."

  "Not half so lonely as she'd be without you, I bet," said Alex reassuringly.

  While they were talking their wine glasses were discreetly removed and the first actual pot of tea made its appearance. "How do you take... your tea?" said Julian, eyes full of mischief and voice full of innuendo.

  "Three sugars and lots of milk, please," said Alex, though he'd been tempted to make some inappropriate pun instead. He'd save the awkward flirting for when they were out to dinner and not surrounded by people who might later advise Julian to dump him as a lecher. "You might want to open your gift now," he added, accepting his cup.

  "Oh, yes, I forgot," said Julian, grinning as he untied the ribbon and looked inside. "Oh, you remembered!"

  Alex grinned, pleased to have gotten it right. "You did say you got used to such plebeian treats when you were at university," he teased.

  Julian giggled and lifted out one of the little fairy cakes, setting it on a clear spot on his mostly-devoured cheese plate. "I haven't had one of these in ages, wherever did you find them?"

  "The same bakery that makes Agent Lapointe's favourite macarons also makes these. I swear they specialise in things people have sentimental attachment to. They also have giant frosted gingerbread men all year round," explained Alex.

  "That sounds brilliant," said Julian, peeling the paper off his fairy cake. The one he'd chosen was chocolate, with cream spilling out the top to hold up the cake "wings," and Alex wondered if it also had jam inside. Some of them did and some didn't -- Alex had asked for an assortment to surprise them both. Julian made a face of pure happiness as he bit down on the cake, and the sound of pleased surprise that followed gave Alex a warm feeling rather lower than his chest.

  "Jam?" asked Alex, and Julian grinned and nodded. Alex sipped his tea and let himself enjoy the moment without thinking about magical influences or murder suspects or anything but Julian St. Albans and the pure, sensual joy he was getting out of eating a childish treat.

  It was actually quite refreshing.

  "Will we have time for a little tour, once we're done here?" asked Alex, when Julian and finished the last bite of his first cake.

  "Mmm, yes, there should be," said Julian, closing the lid on his box regretfully. "As long as I don't take the time to eat the whole box, anyway."

  "There's a temporary preservation charm on the box, they should last about a week," said Alex, "so there's no need to rush."

  Julian grinned. "You do think of everything, don't you?" he said, but Alex took it as rhetorical. Especially when Julian went on. "You know, this would've been a good enough gift even without the other."

  "Well, good for you I'm especially generous," teased Alex, having another sip of the tea and finding it quite excellent. "This is delicious, what kind is it?"

  A servant stepped forward and said, "It is an Assam of the first grade, sir." Unlike Godfrey, his manner didn't suggest that Alex should obviously have known that, but was instead politely informative.

  "Thank you," said Alex with a grin. "I think Victor prefers Darjeeling, maybe that's why I never like his tea."

  The servant looked amused, and Julian chuckled. "As you say, sir," said the man, stepping back to stand with the others and their cleverly charmed serving trays, which had kept the hot food hot and the cold food cold so the courses wouldn't grow old while waiting.

  "It's good to know you like my taste in tea," said Julian teasingly.

  Alex grinned. "I'm sure you'd be appalled at most of my pedestrian tastes," he said, "but I have been known to enjoy the finer things when give the opportunity."

  Julian looked pleased by this particular innuendo, and Alex tried not to wonder when he would put his foot in it. There never really was an if in these situations, sadly.

  "But could a man like you be happy, with only the finer things at his fingertips?" asked Julian, his tone flirtatious but face intent on the answer. His fingers skimmed over the small expanse of throat visible above his collar, and Alex had to swallow for a moment to try to remember what they were supposed to be talking about besides the possible taste of that warm, golden skin.

  "I, ah, I think I could once more become accustomed to such luxury," said Alex, trying to think at all. Why did Julian have to be so damnably attractive, anyway? He wasn't used to the way it made his brain stutter and lose track of itself, especially when he was supposed to be gathering clues to a murder.

  Julian seemed to enjoy Alex's discomfiture, however, and his fingers slipped thoughtfully over those pink lips before he grinned and sipped his own tea. "I can see you're already developing new cravings," he said, looking smug and flirty at once.

  There was something about the phrase, the tone, that made Alex want to check himself all over again for influences. "Not entirely new," Alex protested, "Just more refined."

  Julian laughed delightedly at that, sipping his tea. Alex had the image of him doing just this as a child, sipping tea and looking smugly delighted whenever he got his way on something he hadn't been sure he could convince his parents about. "It's always good to refine one's palate," he said.

  Alex sipped his own tea and wondered if he could get away with crying for mercy, or changing the subject. He'd always been terrible at actual flirting, he could only do it when he didn't actually want the person, which reminded him again quite sharply that he wasn't supposed to want this person. Which only made it worse.

  He sighed and let himself smile wryly. "Perhaps I can teach you to enjoy something a bit more pedestrian once in a while, as well."

  Julian grinned. "I have always wanted to try a few things beneath my station," he said, which gave Alex some very naughty mental images indeed.

  "More tea, sir?" asked one of the servants, and Alex nearly laughed with relief that it wasn't him who had broken through that invisible boundary of propriety to garner this subtle scolding.

  Julian made a little moue of annoyance that was sexy and sort of cute, which Alex felt was utterly unfair, and waved the servant away. "We'll just have the one cup, and then take a tour of the grounds, right, Alex?"

  Alex inclined his head and sipped his tea. "As you say," he said, but he winked over his cup.

  Julian's smile was almost as good as the thrill of triumph that he'd get his tour after all.

  ~ ~ ~

  Alex was impressed at how well-organised the grounds were. "Did someone lay this all out on purpose?" he asked, as they crested a hill and could look down at large portion of the immediate lands.

  "What do you mean?" asked Julian, head cocked curiously.

  "We
ll, at the Benedict estate, everything grew sort of organically out from the main house, which has also grown a few times, so it's all a bit of a patchwork, with gardens here and there and chickens in inconvenient locations, though of course out front everything seems perfect," explained Alex.

  "Oh, yes, Grandfather Julian got tired of always having to walk around the chickens and pigs to get to his hunting dogs, and he declared that they were going to have it all make sense." Julian laughed. "The way Mother tells it, the whole estate was in total disarray for a couple of years, but after that it never ran better."

  It bothered Alex a little to hear Julian still referring to his late mother in the present tense, as though she was just on an extended vacation on the continent, but he supposed everyone must deal with grief in their own way. "It sounds dreadful to live through, but much better to live with afterward," he said.

  "Oh, yes, it's brilliantly laid out now, everything's so sensible and it makes less work for everyone," said Julian. "I actually liked some of the management around the estate, back before I got all caught up with Cecil and then Emmy took over," he said wistfully.

  Alex brushed his knuckles over Julian's in what he hoped was a comforting or possibly flirtatious manner. "I'm sure you'll get the chance again, once your husband knows you're interested," he reassured him. "I certainly wouldn't mind sharing the duties."

  "Taking care of the home is considered quite a proper pastime for a consort, too," said Julian. "Cecil and I talked about it sometimes, but we hadn't really figured anything out yet."

  Curious, that he used past tense for Mandeville every time, but not his mother. More mysteries, but Alex thought perhaps this one was related, somehow. "You've got a lifetime to get it figured out, with whoever you choose."

  "With whoever I choose out of my suitors, you mean," said Julian, that bitterness of lost choices back in his voice.

  "Well," said Alex, twining his hand with Julian's and then kissing the back, "I hope you chose suitors you actually wanted to be Courted by, for the most part, then."

  Julian looked over sharply but he couldn't find whatever he was afraid of seeing in Alex's face, so he smiled wanly. "I chose as best as I could, but none of them... None of you are my Cecil."

  "I shouldn't say this," said Alex softly, stroking his thumb over Julian's from tip to wrist and back again, "but I wish I could give him back to you."

  Julian flushed and looked down. "That's not fair to any of you," he said softly.

  "Nothing about this is fair," said Alex.

  Julian sighed and looked back up, eyes glittering with unshed tears. "Don't be so bloody understanding, you'll just make me cry and I want to be done with crying," he said, voice tight.

  Alex pulled him into an utterly improper hug. "I promise not to tell if you have one more good one in you," he said.

  Alex had always been bollocks at comfort but this felt easier, because he knew the grief of a lost parent, though not both at once, and he knew the pain of a broken heart if not a murdered lover. None of this was his fault in any way so it was easy to just be strong and reassuring, because he really was doing his best to make things better, in his own limited way.

  Julian seemed to sense that and his arms came up to cling at Alex's ridiculous purple suit and he cried, soft and sad and broken, not for long but for long enough.

  "I suppose I ought not to use Willoughby's gift with you here," said Julian wetly, once he stepped back and began to dab at eyes and nose with one of the charmed handkerchiefs.

  Alex reached out to touch the black pearl on one of Alex's cuffs, and smiled. "You're using my gift, too, so I think I can handle a little rivalry if it makes you feel better."

  Julian grinned, then turned away and blew his nose, looking more composed when he turned back, if a bit red around the edges. "That's why I like you, you know, because you're so much more interested in being sensible and getting things done than following convention or being all properly inoffensive."

  Alex thought that was rather the best compliment he'd ever received, and it must have shown on his face because Julian's expression softened and warmed. "Thank you," said Alex, not knowing what else he could say.

  For Julian, that seemed to be enough.

  ~ ~ ~

  Alex got a few more clues about the running of the household, but he left the St. Albans estate more confused than when he'd arrived. Julian had given him another of those distractingly soft kisses to his cheek when he left, and then whispered in his ear, "Next time, you'll kiss me properly."

  Alex had been completely unable to argue with that, and he wondered how Smedley would take the news. He wasn't sure, given his reputation for being a thoughtless bastard at crime scenes, if he could get away with claiming it was all acting.

  He was very frustrated that it was no longer all acting.

  "But I don't want to run the St. Albans estate," said Alex petulantly.

  "Sir?" said the driver, rolling the window down between them. "Did you have a request?"

  Alex laughed. "Nothing you could help me with, no, I'm just talking to myself. You can tell Victor I'm just as eccentric as ever."

  "Ah, yes, sir," said the driver, giving him an appropriately strange look in the mirror before rolling the privacy panel back up.

  It was almost a relief when Lapointe called and asked if he could still consult on perfectly normal murders, or if his social calendar was too busy.

  ~ ~ ~

  "So, what's the deal?" asked Alex. He'd stopped by his flat to get out of the ridiculous suit and back into his comfortable black, then convinced Victor's driver to take him out to the crime scene, confident he could get Lapointe to drive him home. He had cookies.

  "Shady magical artificer," she said, gesturing toward the shopfront. "Killed apparently by one of his own creations gone amok."

  The dingy-looking windows held a variety of magical items, some dusty and some in need of repair but all with a look about them of malice or menace. The sign above the door was broken just below the hinges so it gave no clue as to the actual name of the shop, but that never was important for a place like this. People who came here knew what they wanted, and those who didn't want it would likely steer clear just from looking at the displays.

  "Never happen," said Alex. "Are you sure it wasn't something he was trying to repair?"

  "Nope," she said cheerfully. "That's your job."

  "You're so helpful," said Alex sarcastically. "Have they already removed the body?" Alex started to pull out his usual white cotton gloves, then thought better of it and grabbed some latex ones from the box by the door.

  That got him a raised eyebrow from Lapointe, but she answered his question anyway. "No, they know by now you like to hear the vibes or whatever," she said, making a wavy-fingered gesture.

  He chuckled. "It'll help me determine what's his make and what's not," he said. "In back?"

  "Yeah, though the uniforms keep telling me they feel like something's not right out here, so you'll need to check this area out afterward," said Lapointe, her levity falling away. She knew when to be serious about a job, and that was one of Alex's favourite things about her, second only to her tolerance for him.

  "Perhaps I should check in here first? Or are they waiting on me," he said; he'd had his phone off during the Courtship tea, so he wasn't sure how long the crime scene had been cooling before he got here.

  "Techs are already done, but the coroner would like to be home before it's too late," said Smedley from the doorway.

  Alex raised an eyebrow. "Why're you on this?" he asked, though it wasn't hostile, just curious. He'd been under the impression that Smedley only went after bigger fish.

  "You'll see," said Smedley, and Alex rolled his eyes.

  "Of course," Alex said, pulling out a tuning fork. "Body first, then."

  "And leave your phone on next time," said Smedley, leading them deeper into the back rooms of the store, which was more spacious than it looked from outside.

  Alex raised an ey
ebrow at Smedley's broad back. "Jealous?"

  Smedley snorted. "You wish. I'm not so easily swayed by your creamy mounds as the good doctor."

  Lapointe didn't even try to hold back her laugh.

  CHAPTER 12

  In Which Someone is Hurt, Someone is Helped, and Male Bonding Occurs

  Alex ignored Lapointe's laughter in favour of the sight before him, which was a gruesome scene indeed. The man had been sitting at his workbench when the device attacked, and it had evidently been armed with some sort of claws or small blades from the look of the body. Alex would have been surprised he was allowed in at all, if Smedley hadn't said the crime scene techs had already been through, given the inevitable smudging of blood evidence.

  "Has the device been found?" asked Alex dubiously.

  Smedley chuckled. "Worried for your pretty face?" He slapped Alex on the shoulder, and Alex got a wash of his personal magic, the melody martial and strong. "Don't be, we took care of it already."

  "Armistead's even promised not to reassemble it," said Lapointe with a wicked chuckle that told Alex that Armistead had not dealt well with being called out to a scene like this one.

  Alex chuckled at the thought of it. "Make sure it doesn't reassemble itself, either," he warned, then stepped forward and struck the tuning fork on his palm, rather harder than usual, given the change in gloves.

  If he'd thought the St. Albans reception was a cacophony, he'd been sadly mistaken. The magic in here was nearly all discordant, some of it broken or repeating like a scratched record, and none if it was pleasant. Alex stepped forward and, after a nod from Smedley, touched the body.

  He was shocked to find that this man was the source of the charm that had felled Alex himself not too long ago. "How long ago did he die?" asked Alex, stilling the tuning fork and turning to the waiting agents.

  "Six, maybe seven hours," said Smedley. "Kept it cold in here, so not much smell yet."

  Alex's nostrils flared involuntarily, and he was assaulted with a wash of iron-bright charnel reek, which he'd managed to mostly ignore until now. "He's the man who made the inkwells," said Alex, stepping back over to them, his shoes leaving little smudges on the bloody floor. "I'd recognise that sound anywhere."