The Courtship of Julian St. Albans by Amy Crook Read Free Book Online Page B

of
mourning and into marriage, though the Courtship itself would take months, and
Alex wanted to acknowledge that.
    Besides, he liked black.
    He put on the clothes, fitted trousers and
collarless undershirt, waistcoat and overcoat and finally the collar and
cravat, using the set of ebony pins and cufflinks he’d acquired, until he was
head to toe black, his shoes polished to the proper shine, his skin pale and
hair a shock of black atop his head. He had to admit the tailor had done a good
job; rather than trying to match everything, he had given the trousers a subtle
black pinstripe that lengthened Alex’s already long legs, done the waistcoat in
a black-on-black brocade, and the shirt was just slightly charcoal while the
cravat was a deep, rich black. When Alex stepped out to show his sister, he
stood tall.
    “Hm,” she said, the closest she’d
come to admitting he’d been right. “You are very striking,” she said
reluctantly.
    “As I need to be,” said Alex, turning
so she could see the fashionable narrowness of his waist, shown off by the cut
of his coat. “I approve, sir, you have taken my idea and improved it a
thousandfold.”
    If the tailor knew that Alex was quoting, his
pleased expression never showed it.
    ~ ~ ~
    After three days of his family, Alex was ready
for a break, which came in the form of a phone call from Lapointe.
    “You’ve been a busy
little boy,” she said, by way of greeting.
    He laughed, but it was a tired laugh, and there
was still so much to do. “It’s necessary,” he said. “I’m
concerned that we didn’t know about the sister taking care of his affairs
before.”
    “She’s the one who hired the maid,”
said Lapointe, confirming his suspicions. “Though the girl did have
impeccable credentials, apparently she grew too pretty for the wife at her last
job and was sent on with references.”
    “Which makes her perfect for the St.
Albans home, where I’m sure they’ve sent on a handsome gardener or two,”
said Alex, bitterly amused. His own family had been quite annoyed with him for
being gay, if only because it meant that they had to fire their mother’s
favourite pastry chef when a guest remarked on how he seemed to dote upon their
son, who’d been all of thirteen at the time.
    He still missed the man’s
pumpkin biscuits.
    “I take it you’ve caught up on the gossip
since we last spoke,” she said dryly.
    Alex sighed. “And then some,” he
said, and then, because he knew deep down that she really did understand,
“I’ve been visiting with family all week.”
    “Oh, you poor dear,” she said, but
despite the mocking words her tone was sincere. “And you’re still
standing?”
    “The only men in white coats who have seen
me have been retailers, I assure you,” he said, then he couldn’t help but
chuckle, “Though too many more of those, and I might’ve gone stark
raving.”
    “Impossible, you’re already quite mad
enough,” she said, chortling with him. “Smedley’s a bit annoyed, of
course.”
    Alex’s chuckles turned to a wry laugh.
“What, our coffee bonding didn’t give me this much leeway? I’ll have you
know that forces greater than his were working to get me into that
Courtship.”
    “Did your mother
call?” she said, surprised.
    “No, and hush, lest the fates hear you and
bring me to her attention. No, just every other family member, and another
letter from young Julian as well.” Alex paced around his own living room,
the wood floors comforting under his bare feet. If Mother got involved,
everything would go swiftly downhill. She had never approved of anything about
him, and she’d be mortified at the very idea of his wardrobe gambits.
    “What did he have to say?” asked
Lapointe, trying to sound neutral though he could tell she was highly
entertained by the whole affair.
    Alex smirked to himself, “Don’t you wish
you knew,” he teased, and hung up.
    A minute later, his phone
rang again, this time with Smedley’s number.
    He