“Did you know about this?” he whispered to Pickmore.
“No. Your aunt has been very mum on the purpose of this gathering, as have the sisters, other than it was to be a house party, as they announced this morning.”
He had to stop this nonsense immediately. “Dear Aunt Agatha, and Ladies Tilson, while Society is well aware of your propensity to play matchmaker during the Season, you are taking matters a bit too far by gathering unsuspecting victims in your home for a house party.”
“None of our guests are unsuspecting,” Aunt Agatha insisted.
He turned to the gentlemen first. “Did any of you know what my aunt planned?”
They stared at him, dumbfounded. A few shook their heads.
“I did not think so.” Julian then looked to the women. “Did any of you ask my aunts to arrange a match?”
Their faces remained pale with eyes wide with shock.
“Aunt Agatha, may I have a word with you in the library?” Julian suggested through gritted teeth.
Aunt Agatha smiled. “When we are finished, dear. Court is in session.”
“This is not a courtroom. This is your drawing room.” Julian took a step toward them. “I will not allow you to proceed with this farce. If your guests had any sense, they would march out of this room.”
“Ah, but they will not.” Lady Priscilla smiled.
“What is to stop them?” Julian demanded. He really needed to spend more time with his aunt before she went so far that he had to admit her to Bedlam. His father had been able to keep his sister in check, but father had died six months ago and now the task fell to Julian.
“It would be rude, and their employers will frown on them rejecting the offer of a holiday,” she answered pointedly.
The Devils would lose their pension. But what of the women? Had their employers forced them here as well?
“As for the women,” his Aunt Agatha began to explain. “They will retain whatever position they held before coming here, if it is still wanted or needed. If they do not remain...” The rest remained unsaid, but the threat was implied. Except, not all of them were employed, but members of Society.
“Yes, dear, I can see the calculation in your eyes,” his aunt said. “Everyone will gain something they need by remaining here.”
“You are blackmailing them to stay?” This got worse by the moment.
Aunt Agatha frowned. “Blackmail is such a vile word.”
“But it is the truth,” Lady Esther reminded her.
Aunt Agatha waved her hand in dismissal. “It does not matter.” She picked up sheets of foolscap. “I am about to read the rules.” She glanced up. “Do sit down, Julian.”
He spared a glance at the occupants in the room. He had half a mind to march right out of the house and not return. He did not need the promised pension. However, someone needed to remain to protect these poor victims. With a sigh, he settled back into his chair.
“The High Court of Love first took place in what we believe was 1402 in France. The object was to legislate on all questions regarding love, betrayals, settle disputes and to pass sentences on any lover who was in the wrong. These tribunals were also led by women.” She smiled and glanced at the Tilson sisters. “This one will be led by us.”
Julian snorted and looked away.
“We are unsure as to the rules of love. They do not seem to be written anywhere,” Lady Esther Tilson admitted.
Julian jumped to his feet. “Then one cannot have a court if one does not know the laws.”
“Sit down right now,” Aunt Agatha ordered and banged her gavel again.
Julian fought the urge to pull at his cravat as he settled into the rigid and uncomfortable chair. He had not been spoken to in that tone since the last time she had used all his names, which had only been a few hours ago when he learned that he was no longer employed by the Home Office, or that he wouldn’t be at the end of a fortnight. Apparently, his last mission was to endure this blasted house party.
Though, Cait was here, and she was still free.
Did he dare hope?
