This was their engagement ball, held inside his house, an earl’s mansion in Mayfair, currently hosting the larger part of the haut ton, and yet whoever it was had tried to kill him there!
How dare they!
She felt very much as she imagined her grandmother did when confronted with the insensitivity of the uncouth.
Fury and fear comingled in a potent brew, but she thrust the surging emotions deep; she—and he—needed to keep their wits about them.
They rounded the newel post of the grand staircase and looked up.
Felix was leisurely descending, settling his coat as he came. He saw them and smiled. “Is it winding down yet? Or like me, are you trying to sneak away?”
Julian ignored that and demanded, “Did you see anyone up there?”
Realizing something was wrong, Felix halted and frowned. “No. But until a few minutes ago, I was hiding in my room. Now you’re off the matchmakers’ lists, they’ve realized I exist and are hunting me.” His frown deepened, and he glanced up at the gallery. “Why would anyone other than family be up there?”
Succinctly, Julian told him about the falling urn and the man Melissa had spied on the roof. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Melissa was watching Felix closely, eyes faintly narrowed, but his brother’s shock was evident.
“Good Lord!” Felix stared up the stairs. “But they won’t still be up there.” He turned to Julian. “I didn’t see anyone going up or down. Chances are they used the back stairs.”
Curtly, Julian nodded, then grimaced. “They’ll be long gone by now.”
Felix continued down the stairs and joined them, then quietly said, “Assuming that, whoever they are, they’re not a guest.”
Julian glanced at Melissa; from her expression, that thought had occurred to her as well. He dipped his head. “Assuming that.”
“I’m no longer so certain we can assume that,” she said.
A door opened down another corridor, and voices could be heard heading their way from the rear of the house.
Felix exchanged a look with Julian. He nodded fractionally; one of the group was Damian.
Julian summoned a genial smile and plastered it on. He squeezed Melissa’s hand in warning and saw her expression lighten, then Damian strolled into the hall, surrounded by a pack of six gentlemen guests.
The gentlemen were all smiling and ambling, plainly in good spirits. A few looked not quite steady on their feet, but all professed delight at encountering Julian, Melissa, and Felix.
Julian took note of who was in the group. All were known to him—three friends of Damian’s, all his age, plus two older very distant cousins and Findlay-Wright.
Julian smiled and replied to their various quips while doing his best to encourage the group to return to the ballroom. Melissa realized his intention and assisted, using her more polished social skills to steer the group on.
Meanwhile, Julian signaled Damian to remain.
Curious, Damian dutifully hung back, and they watched the others go. Once the group vanished beneath the archway leading to the ballroom, Damian turned to Julian. “Is something wrong?”
“First,” Julian said, his tone hardening, “did you see anyone unexpected back there—anywhere near the back stairs?”
Damian frowned. “No.” He tipped his head toward the ballroom archway. “That lot needed the water closets and weren’t in any state to remember directions. I didn’t want them wandering about aimlessly, so I acted as a guide.”
“So all those gentlemen were with you from the time you left the ballroom?” Melissa asked.
Puzzlement deepening, Damian shook his head. “I took four of them—my friends and Roddy, one of our cousins. And Brian, our other cousin, and Findlay-Wright joined us while we were there. All of us came back in a group.”
“Was there anyone still there?’ Felix asked.
Damian shook his head. “No.” He looked at Julian. “And I didn’t see anyone about the back stairs, either. Why?”
Once again, Julian recounted what had occurred on the parlor balcony.
“Good Lord!” Damian’s expression reflected every emotion Julian was sure they all felt. In his little brother’s case, incredulity won out.“Here?”Damian demanded.
