Free Twice Upon a Time (A Danby Family Novella) by Samantha Grace

~1~

    JULIAN Beckford, second son to Viscount Pickton, grandson to the influential Duke of Danby, and reluctant accomplice to his deranged cousin’s newest venture, crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned back against the carriage seat. “Wake me when you’ve come to your senses.”
    “Ho ho! Do not count on that any time soon.” Pen kept his eyes trained to the back entrance of the Lord Orrick Theatre, a small playhouse unlikely to be frequented by anyone of their acquaintance. “We will be here all night if that’s what it takes.”
    “Fancy that.”  
    When Pen, who had been like a brother to Julian since they both wore short pants, invited him out for an evening on the Town, this was not what Julian had pictured. Still, he had missed Pen’s escapades these last five years. He just hadn’t expected to be thrown into one of his harebrained schemes less than a week after returning to England.
      His cousin bolted straight up in his seat, kicking Julian’s leg in the process. “There! She is the one.”
    Julian’s gaze followed the direction of Pen’s extended finger. “Her? Do you wish Grandfather to cry imposter the moment we reach Yorkshire?”
    “Imposter?” Pen tugged on a lock of hair, studying the woman. “What fault do you find with this one?”  
    “The tucked up skirts. The generous display of bosom despite the frigid temperatures…”
    “Oh, quite right. She will never do. Too daft.”
    Jiminy . The woman wasn’t the daft one. “She’s a lightskirt, Pen. Did she even come from the theatre?”
    His cousin shrugged. “I’m uncertain. I was woolgathering.” He slumped against the seat with a weary sigh. “Won’t you please lend your assistance? You have a better eye for these things.”
    Julian would like to tell him to sod off and abandon this fool’s mission, but in honesty, he felt sympathy for his cousin. Pen possessed no ability to protect himself against their grandfather’s manipulations. Danby was on his deathbed. Again. For the fourth time this year to hear Pen tell it. Each trip his cousin had made to Danby Castle, he’d found the duke hearty and hale. Danby had been especially lively when demanding Pen take a wife and fill his nursery. The old man would outlive them all.
    A small smile pulled at Julian’s lips. He hadn’t been certain he would ever lay eyes on his grandfather again when he left for Calcutta. A Christmas spent at Danby Castle suited him.
    “I will help you,” Julian said, “but as soon as I determine a likely candidate, we’re leaving for Rendell’s.”
    Pen’s enthusiasm returned, and he wiggled back into position to observe the actresses leaving the theatre.
    “Why not make a real match and be done with the matter?” Julian asked.
    His cousin grimaced as if chewing a mouthful of horseshoe tacks. Julian had never seen such a pained expression cross his countenance.  
    “Must I take a wife, Jul? Truly?”
    “Of course you must. Who else is to provide an heir to the earldom?”
    “Blasted Miriam and Harriet! Neither one had the decency to be born a male.” Pen jabbed a finger Julian’s direction. “Do you know they’ve always been selfish, those two? Ever since they were babies. Crying and keeping me awake. Not to mention messing their nappies and contaminating the nursery.”
    “That’s what babies do.”
    “Well, they are an inconsiderate lot.”  
    Julian chuckled. His cousin may complain often about his sisters, but Julian knew he held affection for both. Cousin Miriam, on the other hand, was less than fond of her brother. After all, Pen had stolen her birthright: blonde curls passed down from their mother.
    The backdoor of the theatre eased open and a hooded figure peeked out, looking quickly in both directions. Apparently deeming the deserted alley safe, the person hurried out the door. Heavy, dark skirts and a lithe frame. The woman lowered her head, pulled the hood down to hide her face, and walked briskly in their direction.