Julius shook his head regretfully. “Unfortunately not.”
“So he could have written it before or after his association with Thomas Russell.” Max’s frown deepened. “I’ll speak to him about it.”
Julius’s chin jutted out. “Can you trust him?”
“Absolutely.” He paused. “Treason isn’t profitable, and it doesn’t work with Russell’s character.”
“He would be a useful ally.”
Max knew that tone. Julius’s special area of business concerned the feud with the Dankworths and the connotations opposing the highly political family held. Julius was the conduit for the rest of the family, collecting information about the family that had plagued the Emperors of London for so long.
Their support for the Jacobites had nearly finished the powerful family of the Duke of Northwich. The Dankworths had been slowly rebuilding their fortunes after sacrificing a few of their number to justice after the Forty-five had dashed their hopes of a Stuart monarchy and power. After working slowly and surely for a decade, Northwich had become a power to be reckoned with once more.
Although nominally at least Protestant and loyal to the Crown, the Dankworths were still Jacobite to the last one of them. That was where their power lay. They would not give that up easily.
Max swore. Then used a few more words for good measure. “So what can I do about it? I’m as sure as I can be without seeing absolute proof that Russell isn’t involved. But Hayes has connected with Dankworth at some point, either with or without his then master’s permission. What does that mean?”
Julius bit his lip. And then took a quick breath. “You know war is coming. The Peace of Aix was a breathing-space, that’s all.” He shot Max a perceptive glance, his blue eyes sharp. “War is good for the economy, is it not?”
“Sometimes.” Max hated to admit it, but he was a realist and he couldn’t deny the truth. Commercially, war meant a full-time army and the supplies it needed, a national sense of optimism and patriotism, among other things. “Not that that’s any reason to promote it.”
“True, but some unscrupulous people might do so.” Julius paused. “You know what happened to Alex?”
Another cousin, another Emperor. “I know he’s blissfully happy with his new bride.”
“But not without interference from the Dankworths.” Julius grimaced and took a few paces from the window to the fireplace and back. Behind him the clock tinkled the half-hour. “The trouble with his wife, the brothel, the auction, that was all financed by Northwich. He was the mystery backer of the place that nearly proved Connie’s downfall. I believe that was an opening salvo. A test, if you like, of how strong we are. Dankworth discovered we will hold together if we need to. He would have picked us off singly otherwise.”
“Why would he set himself against us?” Max asked, genuinely perplexed. He shoved his hands into his breeches’ pockets. “Surely our political opposition is old news. We ally ourselves with the winners. Always have. They can’t bear a grudge, can they?” Although Julius dressed in the highest of high fashion and Max rarely bothered with his brocades and satins unless he had to, he felt more comfortable with Julius than with most men he knew. They thought alike, and neither had to bow to the other’s intelligence. They could keep up with each other.
Julius frowned. “Think again. Northwich bears grudges that last a lifetime. But there are other reasons for him opposing the Emperors. Between us, we control, or have considerable influence in, most spheres of interest. Look at you, in the City. You could prove useful to Northwich, should he turn you to his cause. So could I, and Alex, and Nic. Everyone. I don’t doubt he’s testing us on a few fronts, but a wise soldier concentrates on one campaign at a time. And I fear we, the Emperors, are that campaign.” He paused. “Your father-in-law-to-be is immensely influential. He has fingers in pies we cannot reach. He could be a useful addition to our party, if we need help. Or his.”
“I see.” Yes, he could. “Russell is loyal to the Crown, always has been, but he doesn’t dabble in politics.”
“He doesn’t have to.”
Max considered Julius’s request and nodded. “I’ll talk to him. Apprise him of the situation.” It would be a prudent move.
Julius took a turn around the room, his coat skirt swinging. He paused to give the clock on the mantelpiece an infinitesimal adjustment. “Russell should know that allying himself to us would make him unacceptable in some quarters. The duke would do anything to bring us down.” He turned back to face Max. The corner of his mouth quirked in a cynical half-smile. “Who knows? If we’d been on the losing side at Culloden, maybe we’d feel the same.”
Max took half a second to consider his opinion on that issue. “My father threw away his fortune on that huge monstrosity in Buckinghamshire rather than fight renegade Jacobites.”
“It’s very beautiful,” Julius, the lover of fine art protested.
“Some of it is. But who wants a palace? Especially one I can’t do anything with. I’d love to sell the thing. Would you buy it?”
Julius gave a hard laugh. “Not a chance. We have our own palace, and one is more than enough. At least it keeps my father busy.”
“Is your mother becoming a problem again?” Julius’s mother made concerted attempts to reclaim Helena, but now Julius had brought his aunt, Max’s mother, into the scene, Max wondered how matters would progress.
“No more than yours.”
Both men laughed.
“Maybe we should start a book at White’s,” Max said. “On the winner and how long it will take.” His mood sobered. “But seriously, now I’m marrying, we can offer Helena a haven, if she wishes it. Even at the mausoleum.”
“I appreciate it.” Julius crossed the room to Max and held out his hand. “I haven’t said congratulations.”
Max shook his hand briskly. “Thank you. Not something I expected to happen anytime soon, but I have to admit, I couldn’t have done better from my personal point of view.”
Julius frowned. “You love her?”
Max would have laughed, but Julius appeared too serious for him to mock. Then Max remembered what he should never have forgotten; Julius’s own doomed love. He’d adored the woman he married—wild, bad, troubled Lady Caroline Foster. Julius had fallen completely for the delicate but beautiful woman, and when she’d died, many of the family had heaved sighs, very quietly so nobody would hear. Julius had frozen since her death five years ago, become the icicle some claimed.
That would make little Caroline six. Yes, the child was six. Sad that he could remember when Caro had died, but not when Caroline was born. If not for the child, Julius would have become completely sealed off, but he adored his daughter. The rest of the family loved her for helping him, however unwittingly, to keep part of himself alive.
Max thought of an appropriate answer. “Sophia’s attractive, intelligent, and I like her.” More than that he’d keep to himself. He couldn’t admit how much the idea of having her in his bed excited him because he didn’t understand or trust it.
“It’s a good start,” Julius said. “Better than many people have.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на