Free Veiled in Blue by Lynne Connolly

told me that you had visited Rome. Did you enjoy the Eternal City?”
    Mr. King sent him a smile as he helped himself to creamed asparagus and offered it to Mrs. Simpson. That had given him time to marshal his thoughts, damn him. “Indeed, sir, although the odors are those of any large city in Europe.”
    “I am accustomed to London. I cannot imagine anything more…pungent.” He would not go into details at the dining table. The food showed a tendency to over-elaboration, but was palatable. He would have preferred the lamb a little rarer, the pork better cooked, and a few less rich sauces, but that might just be his personal taste. “Of course it depends on the part of the city one wishes to go.”
    “I cannot say I have ventured into the more noisome parts of London,” Mr. King said. “Only the squares and the parks, in general.”
    “Which squares would that be?” Julius asked. The Dankworths lived in St. James’s Square. Would King mention it?
    But King did not answer him directly. “Most of my business is conducted in the City. The Cocoa-Tree, for example.”
    Julius seized on the snippet with savage delight. At last, something he could use. “Where the Jacobites congregate?”
    King paused, lifting a forkful of food to his mouth. When he had finished eating and taken a sip of wine, he answered Julius. “And not a few Tories from the countryside.”
    Jacobite ones, certainly. “I see. What is your line of business, sir?”
    “Oh, this and that.” Mr. King met Julius’s gaze directly, his eyes sparkling with barely concealed anger. “I could ask you the same.”
    “Property,” Julius said smoothly. “That is my business.”
    Their eyes dueled in a moment of pure animosity before Mr. King turned his attention to Eve and toasted her, lifting his glass slightly before putting it to his lips. “You are, as always, exquisite, ma’am. I wish I knew your mantua-maker.”
    Eve laughed, a ripple of pure merriment. “Her name is Eve Merton, sir, as well you know.”
    “You should have the services of the best dressmaker in London.”
    At least they could agree on that.
    Being so close to Eve and yet unable to talk to her properly proved frustrating to Julius. So much that at the end of the evening, he offered to escort Eve and her mother back to their home across the green. Mr. King had said nothing Julius could positively act on, and he seethed with annoyance.
    “You do not like Mr. King, do you, sir?” Eve asked him. She had her gloved hand tucked into his arm. It felt perfect there.
    “No, I do not. I do not trust the man. He is far too cautious about the information he imparts. He says he comes from the north, but his accent is southern.”
    “He has been here for six months, but I feel I know you better than I know him.”
    All Julius’s ill-temper dissipated at the sound of her voice and the pressure of her hand on his arm. Her touch soothed him. “I have been trying to understand you. Perhaps he is too busy learning to fit in the neighborhood.” And being a close-mouthed bastard.
    But Eve preferred him. She had chosen him as her escort instead of Sir Henry’s carriage or Mr. King’s. That made Julius inordinately, foolishly proud.
    Tactfully, Mrs. Merton quickened her pace, moving ahead of them.
    Julius lowered his voice. “I can blame neither of the gentlemen. You are temptation itself, Eve. Your parents named you well.”
    She sighed. “I had hoped you would not mention that. My parents named me because I was the first daughter. Had there been a brother for me, I have no doubt his name would have been Adam.”
    “And the next daughter? Would she have become Lilith?”
    They were moving under the shelter of one of the large oak trees that adorned the village green. Acting swiftly, Julius spun her around and claimed a kiss. Far too brief, but it served to take the edge off his frustration and desire for her. She flushed rosily, but when he steered her back, she walked to her house sedately