nickname. “At least I’m not one to butt heads,” he said, watching
as Willoughby made his way back over to them.
She chuckled wryly. “That’s not what I’ve
heard,” she teased, making it sound flirtatious, though Alex suspected
that was just to annoy Willoughby. “Thank you,” she said, accepting
the drink from him with a polite smile.
“Getting the inside track on the next St.
Albans Courtship, Benedict?” asked Willoughby.
“Nonsense,” said Alex. “I’ve
already got the inside track on this one.” This time he didn’t bother
looking nonchalant, just confident, and he rather thought Emmeline would
forgive him for looking like a bit of an arse.
“I’d heard you were all for the blokes,
anyway,” said Chilcott, stepping into the conversation with a knowing
smirk.
Alex just shrugged. “It’s true, not even
Ms. Fitzhugh’s wit and charm could sway me.”
“I take it you gentlemen are both more
open in your preferences?” asked Emmeline, expression politely interested,
though her eyes were sparkling with mischief. “Julian is very keen on
monogamy, you know.”
“As he should be,” said Chilcott
stuffily. “I would never tolerate a spouse who strayed, especially not a
consort.”
“I believe she was referring to the
master’s fidelity,” said Willoughby. “Which of course is also
traditional and expected.”
“Do they really still call them that,
masters to the consort?” asked Alex. “I’d thought husband would be
the more modern term.” He took a healthy swig of his water, watching the
men look thoughtful. The fun of sparkling water was people often assumed it had
other things in it, but he wanted to clear his head after the wine-rich dinner,
not muddle it with further alcohol.
Chilcott looked faintly appalled and said,
“A consort’s Courtship is not a particularly modern undertaking.”
“I believe Julian intends to invoke the
traditional vows,” said Emmeline with a sigh. “Or, at least he did
with Cecil. Who knows, now.”
“I’m sure whoever he chooses will be
worthy of the honour,” said Willoughby, with a tone that suggested that he
of course meant himself.
Entwistle finally gave up his place, and a
servant leaned in, then went to fetch the next candidate, this time a
nervous-looking man named Grover Barnes whom Alex privately thought was more
suited to being a consort than having one.
The whole room seemed to share a breath, and
then talk started up once again. “This part’s a bit like seeing who’ll be
picked for sports teams in school, except that we all want to be left for
last,” said Alex, amused.
George Entwistle collected a drink from the
bartender and downed a great deal of it before making his way over to their
little group. “I wanted to thank you for the delightful conversation at
dinner, Ms. Fitzhugh.”
“It’s quite rare that I meet another
person as interested in hand-painted porcelain as I am,” she said with a
genuine smile.
That was the cue for Chilcott and Willoughby to
drift away, and after a few minutes of listening to them discuss the various
ways to preserve such antiques, Alex allowed himself to slip away as well.
The next hour passed much the same way, with
half a dozen suitors having conversations of varying lengths with poor Julian,
who looked more trapped with each one. Julian took a break after the first
seven, disappearing through a door somewhere and reminding Alex that he’d had a
lot to eat and drink in the past few hours. Once Julian was back in place with
the eighth suitor, none other than Phineas O’Connor, Alex got a servant to
direct him to the facilities.
He couldn’t linger long and risk missing his own
cue, but once he’d taken care of things and made sure he was all straightened
up, Alex slipped a tiny tuning fork out of his pocket and sat on the plush
loveseat this bathroom boasted. He pulled out the watch fob as well, laying it
in the curl of his palm and feeling his senses begin to sharpen,
as Willoughby made his way back over to them.
She chuckled wryly. “That’s not what I’ve
heard,” she teased, making it sound flirtatious, though Alex suspected
that was just to annoy Willoughby. “Thank you,” she said, accepting
the drink from him with a polite smile.
“Getting the inside track on the next St.
Albans Courtship, Benedict?” asked Willoughby.
“Nonsense,” said Alex. “I’ve
already got the inside track on this one.” This time he didn’t bother
looking nonchalant, just confident, and he rather thought Emmeline would
forgive him for looking like a bit of an arse.
“I’d heard you were all for the blokes,
anyway,” said Chilcott, stepping into the conversation with a knowing
smirk.
Alex just shrugged. “It’s true, not even
Ms. Fitzhugh’s wit and charm could sway me.”
“I take it you gentlemen are both more
open in your preferences?” asked Emmeline, expression politely interested,
though her eyes were sparkling with mischief. “Julian is very keen on
monogamy, you know.”
“As he should be,” said Chilcott
stuffily. “I would never tolerate a spouse who strayed, especially not a
consort.”
“I believe she was referring to the
master’s fidelity,” said Willoughby. “Which of course is also
traditional and expected.”
“Do they really still call them that,
masters to the consort?” asked Alex. “I’d thought husband would be
the more modern term.” He took a healthy swig of his water, watching the
men look thoughtful. The fun of sparkling water was people often assumed it had
other things in it, but he wanted to clear his head after the wine-rich dinner,
not muddle it with further alcohol.
Chilcott looked faintly appalled and said,
“A consort’s Courtship is not a particularly modern undertaking.”
“I believe Julian intends to invoke the
traditional vows,” said Emmeline with a sigh. “Or, at least he did
with Cecil. Who knows, now.”
“I’m sure whoever he chooses will be
worthy of the honour,” said Willoughby, with a tone that suggested that he
of course meant himself.
Entwistle finally gave up his place, and a
servant leaned in, then went to fetch the next candidate, this time a
nervous-looking man named Grover Barnes whom Alex privately thought was more
suited to being a consort than having one.
The whole room seemed to share a breath, and
then talk started up once again. “This part’s a bit like seeing who’ll be
picked for sports teams in school, except that we all want to be left for
last,” said Alex, amused.
George Entwistle collected a drink from the
bartender and downed a great deal of it before making his way over to their
little group. “I wanted to thank you for the delightful conversation at
dinner, Ms. Fitzhugh.”
“It’s quite rare that I meet another
person as interested in hand-painted porcelain as I am,” she said with a
genuine smile.
That was the cue for Chilcott and Willoughby to
drift away, and after a few minutes of listening to them discuss the various
ways to preserve such antiques, Alex allowed himself to slip away as well.
The next hour passed much the same way, with
half a dozen suitors having conversations of varying lengths with poor Julian,
who looked more trapped with each one. Julian took a break after the first
seven, disappearing through a door somewhere and reminding Alex that he’d had a
lot to eat and drink in the past few hours. Once Julian was back in place with
the eighth suitor, none other than Phineas O’Connor, Alex got a servant to
direct him to the facilities.
He couldn’t linger long and risk missing his own
cue, but once he’d taken care of things and made sure he was all straightened
up, Alex slipped a tiny tuning fork out of his pocket and sat on the plush
loveseat this bathroom boasted. He pulled out the watch fob as well, laying it
in the curl of his palm and feeling his senses begin to sharpen,
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