Julian groaned again. “I’m not sure what color they are, exactly. Brown, I think. Or maybe green. I don’t know, to be honest. That’s it, Joe. No more games.”
“Well, then, it appears I was right.” Josiah shrugged. “Usually am, of course.”
“Right about what?”
“You, failing the test.”
“What bloody test?”
“The one thatmighthave proved your undying attraction to this girl.”
Julian scoffed. “Like I said, I hardly know her, but so far, no complaints. I like what I see. Either make your point, if you actually have one, or leave and let me get some sleep.”
“All right, all right, keep your voice down.” Josiah cleared his throat. “Thing is, I have some interesting news. Wanted to share it with you as soon as I arrived, but never had the chance, and then I found out you were pursuing the lovely Viola, and I wondered if sharing this news was even…” He tapped a finger on his bottom lip and appeared to ponder. “Um, did Mama arrange it, by the way? You and Viola? I have a suspicion she might have.”
Julian sighed. “The point, Josiah.”
“Right. So, then I wondered if sharing this news with you was even necessary. I am now of the opinion it most certainly is, since we have just ascertained Miss Viola Aitken is not for you.”
Julian sat up again, leaned forward, and touched the back of his hand to Josiah’s forehead. “It’s rather odd,” he said, frowning. “No fever, and you don’t appear to be drunk, yet something is clearly wrong with you.”
Josiah clucked his tongue. “Maybe it has something to do with this.” He pulled a slip of paper from his vest pocket and handed it to Julian. “Here. Read it.”
Julian took the small piece of newsprint and squinted at it in the low light. “What’s it about?”
“Just read it,” Josiah replied. “I wondered, at first, if it was all just an incredible coincidence, but the dates and the names match, as does the poor fellow’s profession. It has to be her, brother. Has to be.”
“Her?” A tingle ran across Julian’s scalp. He leaned into the lantern’s halo of light and read the brief report about a wedding at St James’ Church, Piccadilly. It told of a young bride whose father had died in the church following a violent altercation between the groom and another man who had challenged the union. The groom, a Leopold Harvey De Witte, had then fled the scene, leaving his bride,Annabelle Edwina Fairfax, alone, unwed, and weeping beside the body of her father, Dr. Clarence Geoffrey Fairfax, a retired physician.
“Good God,” Julian muttered, and read the report a second time, his hand shaking so much he could barely make out the words. He lifted his gaze. “Is it her, do you think? Is it Annabelle?”
Josiah huffed. “How many Annabelle Fairfax’s do you know? Let’s take that further. How many Annabelle Fairfax’s do you know who was, if I recall correctly, due to be married around the same time, and whose father is also a physician? Of course, it’s her.”
“I suppose it must be.” Julian, his mind reeling, read the article yet again. “What a bloody mess. I cannot begin to imagine the anguish she must have felt. Muststillbe feeling. The poor girl!”
“I agree,” Josiah replied. “And you should know it was by pure chance that I happened upon the article. I never read theHeraldas a rule, but it was sitting on a table in Lord Bethany’s Mayfair foyer, so I picked it up and read it while I was waiting to see him. There are no such things as coincidences, Jules. Things like this happen for a reason.” He jabbed a finger at the cutting. “I wasmeantto read that because you weremeantto know about it.”
Julian raised a brow. “Do you really believe that?”
“No, of course not, don’t be daft.” Josiah grinned. “But now youdoknow, so you can do something about it.”
Julian blinked. “Like what?”
“Like getting your arse back to London and calling on the lady.”
That utterly absurd notion had already barged its way into Julian’s brain, but he’d hesitated to embrace it. “No, I cannot possibly do that.”
“Why ever not?”
“Well, because…” Frowning, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Because it’s irrational, Joe. It’s folly. It’smadness.”
Josiah heaved a sigh. “What color are Annabelle’s eyes, Julian?”
Julian turned his sight inward and looked upon the face he’d committed to memory several weeks earlier, every detail still intact. “Blue,” he murmured, unable to prevent a smile from appearing. “An exquisite grayish-blue. Edged in black.”
“Point made.” Josiah clicked his tongue. “If I were you, I’d start packing right away.”
“But you’re not me, Joe.” Julian regarded the scrap of paper in his hand. “This doesn’t give me permission to go gallivanting off to London with no explanation. We have guests, in case you hadn’t noticed. I have obligations to them and to Mama and Papa.”
