“Hmm.”
“Wait a minute...” Julian shot him a curious glance. “Didn’t you know her, or something, before you left? I have vague recollections...”
Lucas sighed and took another sip of brandy, wondering what he should say, how he should say it, and if saying anything at all was prudent. “I believe we met. Once.”
“Ahh. That’s it then. If I remember correctly, she asked about you once or twice.”
“Really?” Lucas kept his tone casual. “It was all so long ago. And so much has happened since that time.”
“Indeed.” Julian’s hand brushed over a slim brass device fastened just beneath his cuff.
“Jewellery? Seems rather unlike you...”
His friend snorted. “If this thing so much as twitches, I’m gone.” He glanced up. “This is meant to be a quiet interlude for me, which usually means it won’t be.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”
“This little thing is a prototype.” He shrugged. “There was a lottery for a guinea pig to test it. I lost.” He lifted his forearm, revealing the etched brass circle which, on the surface, appeared little more than an additional uniform button.
“The world changes on a daily basis, doesn’t it? Some things get larger, others...” Lucas glanced at the device, “get smaller.”
“Indeed.” Julian finished his brandy, and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “I take it all this social chit-chat means you’re not going to reveal your true reason for being here tonight?”
“Not yet,” Lucas answered. “But I will reassure you once more. Your father is one of the very few people I trust completely, Julian. And you know it. My presence here, my return to Arcvale, neither poses any threat whatsoever to Alastair. I simply need his counsel.”
“Business matters, then. Financial stuff. About which I know next to nothing, thank God.” Julian smiled. “And that fact, my friend, has irritated my father for longer than I can remember.”
“You must know, however, that scarcely a conversation goes by without him mentioning—with a great deal of pride—his son, the Air Commodore. And he manages to slip the First Division, Arcvale Flight, in there somewhere too.”
Julian laughed quietly. “That’s my father.”
“And my friend.” Lucas nodded. “I need his brilliance, Julian, and his advice. When my questions are answered, I promise I’ll tell you about it.” He held out his hand.
Julian took it, and they smiled at each other at the bargain they had just made.
But that marked the end of their moments of privacy, since the orchestra blasted the room with a cacophony of trumpets.
“Oh lord. The Reversal Waltz. I’m off.”
Lucas chuckled. “Cowardice? From an Air Commodore?”
“Absolutely.” Julian rose and nodded. “Are you staying?”
“Hah. How much brandy did we drink, anyway?”
“Not enough for this.”
“Agreed. I’m going to find your father.”
“I’m going to find the door.”
*~~*~~*
Across the dance floor, where eager ladies were already dragging their partners into position, Lady Verity Turner-Yardley was experiencing a slight difficulty focussing on matters of importance. Such as the donations, which were piling up in a most satisfactory fashion, and the little flower girls, who were now enthralled by the music, the dancing, and the rainbow of gowns, not to mention the somewhat ostentatious demonstration of wealth offered by the spectacular display of jewels decorating the female guests.
The youngsters must be getting tired, and her experience had taught her that tired little girls could manage to find all kinds of trouble—if not create their own..
She straightened her skirts and moved to the side of the room where the chaperones were gathered, laughing, nodding, and generally enjoying the festivities.
