Chapter 441: Another Gathering of Suitors

Chapter 440: Another Gathering of Suitors

While Corvin struggled with the bindings that held fast his valet and his guard, his fingers fumbling uselessly at the knots in the dim light of his chamber, the remainder of the palace slept on undisturbed. The storm did not relent in the least. It raged against wall and window with a fury that seemed almost a personal vendetta, hail striking stone and timber in ceaseless volleys, the wind howling through the corridors like some great beast denied entrance. And yet, for all its violence, it could not disturb the rest of those who had laboured through the night and found their peace at last.

Morning came, though the light that crept through the shuttered windows was grey, and scarcely deserving of the name. The storm continued its assault unabated, as though determined to make good upon Duke Valenridge’s prediction of three days at the very least.

In a private chamber belonging to Duke Aurelgrave, five gentlemen had gathered.

They sat in comfortable chairs arranged before the hearth, glasses of amber liquid in hand, the fire casting warm shadows across their countenances.

Lucian himself appeared rather less than pleased with his present company.

He ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture of exasperation he had long since abandoned any pretence of concealing before these particular gentlemen, and his blue eyes passed over each of them in turn. Alistair lounged in the chair nearest the fire, an expression of amusement upon his face. Evander sat opposite him, his posture at ease, though there remained ever something watchful in his gaze. Benedict occupied a chair to one side, his considerable frame folded into the furniture with surprising grace. And Julian sat nearest the window, his spectacles perched upon his nose, his expression one of mild interest as he observed the rest.

"What," Lucian asked at length, "brings you all to my chamber at so early an hour?"

Alistair regarded him over the rim of his glass, then sipped slowly from it.

"Are you not glad of the company?" he asked.

Before Lucian might fashion a reply, Evander spoke.

"I daresay he is glad enough of it," he said. "For with whom else should he converse? The wall, perhaps?"

Benedict frowned at this.

"Can a man converse with a wall?" he asked, quite seriously.

"Tell me, big man," Alistair said, a laugh slipping through, "has a wall ever once replied to you, when you addressed it?"

Benedict considered this a moment, then shook his head.

"No," he admitted.

"Then I believe that answers your question entirely," Alistair said.

Evander laughed softly and took a sip from his glass, the amber liquid catching the firelight as he did so.

Just then, Julian adjusted his spectacles, and turned his attention upon Lucian.

"I must say, Lucian, that we are gathered here in no small gratitude for the intelligence you furnished us regarding the investigation."

Lucian’s lips curved into a smile, though he offered no reply.

Alistair leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting towards the window, where the storm continued its assault upon the glass without pause.

"Would that I possessed someone in the Captain’s confidence, as you do," he said, with a sigh.

Evander gave him a look of mock disgust.

"You may abandon that pretence, Alistair. You may lack the Captain, certainly, but that hardly renders you powerless."

The chamber filled with quiet laughter, for each among them understood the truth of it well enough. Every gentleman present maintained people in positions of consequence — servants here, nobles of considerable influence there, certain persons stationed near the King’s own person, who moved unseen through the palace and heard what others were never meant to hear. Their people might not hold the rank of Captain of the Royal Guard, as Aldous did, but this scarcely rendered them without power. Far from it. In the shadows of this court, information was the truest currency of all, and these gentlemen had accumulated no small store of it.

Just then, thunder rumbled overhead, a deep and rolling sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the palace. They turned as one towards the window, watching the hail strike the glass in relentless, punishing waves.

"Do you suppose the storm shall relent at all soon?" Benedict asked.

Evander shook his head slowly.

"I doubt it very much," he said. "And of one thing I am certain — this shall affect buildings, homes, and businesses alike, and in the main, the livelihoods of a great many citizens, unless proper measures have already been taken. I can only hope that those we laboured through the night to protect remain safe still."

Lucian regarded the Duke a while, then spoke.

"I offer you my apology, for having doubted you at all, when first you spoke to me of this storm."

Evander waved a hand dismissively.

"There is no need whatsoever."

Alistair glanced between the two of them.

"You doubted a man of the sea?" he asked, his tone one of feigned scandal. "That, if ever I heard one, was a grave error in judgement."

Evander smiled, though his expression grew rather more thoughtful as he turned to address the others.

"Do tell me," he asked, "did your valets inform you of what was done to Marquess Hale’s people?"

Lucian shook his head, a sigh escaping him.

"Tommy is quite spoiling my own valet. I daresay Oliver shall soon take up his bad habits entirely, should this particular friendship of theirs continue much further."

At this, Oliver, who had stood quietly in a corner of the chamber throughout, straightened at once, as though such a posture might persuade his master to retract the statement.

Evander scoffed at Lucian’s words.

"It is not Tommy who proves the ill influence," he said. "It is Ellis, without question."

"It is only that the three of them are of a similar age," Alistair said. "And I must entirely disagree that my own valet has spoilt anyone whatsoever. The bad egg among them is Tommy, certainly."

Benedict, who had listened quietly throughout, spoke up at last.

"Gérard informed me they taught the Marquess’s people a proper lesson," he said.

Julian nodded.

"As Edmund told me also," he said. "Though I confess myself astonished — the Marquess was quite thoroughly blinded to it all. How did he fail to notice, throughout the whole of his search, that no valet stood present in any of the chambers?"

Benedict considered this a moment.

"Perhaps," he suggested, "because the Marquess is a considerable fool."