After she’d hurtled headlong into a list of all her grievances followed by several breathfuls on why Frederick would be the perfect escort, she peeked up at her mama and used age-old tricks to beguile her into being twisted round her little finger.
Very thoroughly done and the observant Frederick would either have applauded or spanked her for the excellent performance.
At the end of it, however, Ancilla’s lips twitched and she gravely asked her daughter a few simple questions.
“Do I infer that I do not pass muster as a suitable companion for you, Seraphina?”
“You would be impossible, Mama! You are always so fidgety at recitals. Besides, Captain Argyll—”
“Refuses to escort you unchaperoned.” His clipped voice interpolated in no uncertain tone.
Ancilla looked at him thoughtfully and made her decision. “Captain Argyll, if you have better things to do with your evening I shall understand perfectly, for Seraphina is undoubtedly a handful and—”
“You know that is not the case, madame.” Frederick’s voice was respectful but firm.
“In that case, may I not prevail upon you, Captain? In the ordinary way of things I agree it is most prudent to arrange a chaperone but the concert is for this evening and I am unfortunately promised to Lady Lewenthal. Cannot you escort this naughty little puss? I fear, if you refuse, she’ll be up to all sorts of shocking tricks and then we shall be in the basket!”
“Oh please, Captain!”
Frederick still looked unconvinced, but after both females had made their case, cast beseeching eyes at him and practically insinuated that Seraphina could be in no danger from him due to his particular station in life, he allowed himself to be beguiled. This was not due to any weakness on his part, but because more than anything else in the world he himself wished for this time.
He rationalised the perverse breach of social conduct by reasoning that none among the haute ton would attend such a function when two major luminaries were having pre-Christmas balls on the same night. Further, as a male, he would offer more fitting protection to Seraphina, for Pall Mall at night was often less savoury than might be wished for. As an aside, he realised he did not know much about Sandown Concert House, save that it was housing these performances. It might be prudent, then, to attend, in the event of the venue for some reason proving unsuitable.
Lastly, if they were to be seen by anyone of Seraphina’s acquaintance, the excursion could be explained away as a mere extension of formal lessons. There could be nothing amorous read into the connection of a young lady of good ton and a mere music master of lowly origin.
If he had been a fortune hunter or a . . . But, no, then he would have needed to be a peer of the realm at least and none save he and the duke knew that this, precisely, was what he was. With careful planning, Seraphina might attend her concert and not be compromised.
He nodded and sighed, but the unexpected joy that surged through his being could not altogether be ascribed to an overpowering desire to hear Orpheus. When the smile lurking in his soul finally made it to his lips, both ladies appeared equally delighted, for Ancilla was loath to forgo her engagement but too kind a mama to have made Seraphina miss out on her treat.
Seraphina was glowing and Ancilla gave her a quick hug, commenting that it was as well she attended, for as a duchess she would be expected to sponsor all manner of dreary events. Seraphina took her up on the word “dreary” but Captain Argyll stood stock-still, stunned as if all the wind had been knocked out of his powerful body.
He did not think it politic to question Ancilla too closely on her meaning, but he had to admit that, never once, in all Seraphina’s undoubted whirl of gaiety, did he imagine or even consider that she might become betrothed. And to a duke, no less! He cast his mind over all the eligible—and ineligible—dukes that he knew of and came to the mystifying conclusion that none served the purpose. Mayhap he had forgotten some noble strand—he would have to consult Rhaz, who would naturally know such things.
Rhaz! His heart stopped. The fifth Duke of Doncaster was clearly the most likely candidate, although everything in Frederick’s being cried out against the possibility. Impossible, impossible, impossible! For one, they had often joked how their tastes ran to opposites—Frederick sweet, Rhaz savoury; Frederick mild, Rhaz spicy; Frederick walking, Rhaz riding . . . The list could go on forever.
Further, Rhaz was the most confirmed bachelor on the planet saving, of course, he himself. And yet . . . Had Rhaz not spoken of some new paragon? Frederick wished he had not indulged in quite so much of the duke’s high-quality wines, for the life of him he could not remember what the fifth duke had hinted at that evening. His heart sank as he recalled Seraphina’s fleeting reference to him the day they had had their first true music lesson.
Both ladies were now looking at him in puzzlement, so he inferred that he must have missed something. Seraphina appeared as beautiful to him as ever, but now, unaccountably, more distant. He was surprised to find that despite the relative chill of the evening, for winter seemed on its way at last, his brow was hot and he had the sudden urge to loosen his already deplorably undertied cravat.
“Beg pardon!”
“Head in the clouds, Captain?” Seraphina smiled sweetly but there was a naughty chuckle at the back of her throat.
Frederick flashed her a grin that did not pass undetected by a thoughtful Ancilla. Still, when she repeated her unanswered question Frederick’s mind turned immediately to the problem.
“You take the carriage, Mrs. Camfrey! I would not dream of depriving you of your conveyance.” He thought regretfully of his own well-sprung chaise stabled at Drummond and firmly put the notion out of his mind. “If Miss Camfrey is willing, I shall call up a hack.”
Ancilla nodded doubtfully. Cordelia would baulk at the expense, no doubt, but she could see no other way.
“I shall reimburse you, Captain, of course. Also, if I may, for the price of the tickets . . .”
Frederick’s eyes flashed and he drew himself up a little taller, if possible. In the few seconds that elapsed, he forgot entirely that he was meant to be a penniless tutor forging a way for himself. His tone was authoritative and slightly tinged with a drawl as he turned on Ancilla and shook his head firmly. “You insult me, Mrs. Camfrey!”
Ancilla shook her head in confusion. “Indeed, Captain, I never meant—”
“Then no more shall be said on the matter or the whole enterprise shall be shelved.” Frederick’s voice was stern and his fine lips were drawn up in an uncompromisingly straight line.
Seraphina looked on him in horror but Ancilla, after raising her brows slightly, shrugged and smiled.
“Then I shall have to thank you, Captain!”
He looked slightly mollified and bowed. “Believe me when I say the pleasure is entirely mine, Mrs. Camfrey!”
She nodded, but long after the duo had returned to their lessons she looked after them consideringly. The strangest suspicion had entered her head. . . .
Orpheus was better than Seraphina might have imagined. She watched as a bewitching lady with round, dimpled arms gave life to the performance, her feet tapping at the seven pedals with splendid ease. Her dress was cut uncomfortably low and upon her head were sparkling gems of red and green, entwined in a heavy coronet of gilded silver. Her cheeks, to Seraphina’s obvious delight and Frederick’s stern disapproval, were well tinged with paint. There could be no question that the young lady in question was not quite respectable, but what did it matter? She played like an angel and Seraphina was transported.
By the light of several glittering candles liberally placed around her instrument, she played at first solo and then as a tinkling refrain in concert with the orchestra.
When her eyes could be dragged from the performance, Seraphina noticed that she was possibly alone in her appreciation of the music. Several young bucks were undoubtedly appreciative, but the direction of their glances caused her to blush crimson and cast her eyes up to Frederick, wh
o was looking grimmer and grimmer by the moment. A few calls to the stage and several of the gentlemen threw hats in the air, or roses, or . . . yes, Seraphina could see it clearly: baubles and trinkets that glittered like stars in the candlelight.
Several times the player almost stumbled on the chords or missed her beat, but she plucked bravely on, even managing a roguish glance now and then when some particularly candid comment was audible above her efforts.
Seraphina, however, grew crosser and crosser, her enjoyment of the evening quite spoiled by the incivility and lack of attention—or appropriate attention—that the young lady was receiving. She noticed that Frederick had drawn her closer, and whilst this offered no end of distraction in itself, a particularly loud comment from the gentleman behind her caused her to turn around and hiss, “Be silent, sir, if you please!”
What a commotion such a simple comment caused! Seraphina was not to know that the auburn wisps of her hair were a veritable temptation to even the most self-controlled of men, that the demure gown of white silk studded in pearls and offering a faint hint, through translucent gauze fichu, of unspeakable delights, could act as such a powerful stimulant to the already brighteyed audience.
She was soon to learn, however, for the roar of the audience formerly focused on the gifted harpist now turned upon her. Frederick noticed her quiver and tremble, her brow uncustomarily suffused in an embarrassed flush. He could have kicked himself for taking her to such a place, albeit in honest ignorance.
He leaned towards her and bade her edge her way out of the building. The silvery strains of the harp were complemented by cello and flute, but Seraphina had stopped listening. She stood up and Frederick draped the heavy folds of his greatcoat around her. She had been surprised at its elegance, for the masterful work of Scott was evident in the understated capes that hung in perfect precision from the shoulders. When she’d taxed Frederick on it, however, he had looked vaguely uncomfortable and turned the subject, so the matter of the greatcoat still lay between them. Or rather, on Seraphina, wholly obscuring the magnificence of her gown. She had so much wanted to look her best for the evening, and here she was, miserably being bundled out of the theatre in a greatcoat three times too large for her slender, waiflike body.
“Miss Seraphina, my heartfelt apologies! It was abominable of me to have subjected you to such . . . such . . .” Frederick glared but was at a loss for words.
“You were not to know, Captain! Besides, I did enjoy the music! The lady was passing accomplished, was she not?”
Lord Frederick would, in former times, have heartily agreed. He might even have blithely set her up as one of his ladybirds, for the creature was indeed as talented as she was . . . He glossed over this thought, for Seraphina was staring at him with wide, innocent and damnably fascinated eyes.
So he snorted instead and muttered that the lady’s accomplishments were not of the brand he had anticipated. Seraphina, not so green as everyone thought, did not press him to explain, for his meaning would have been obvious even to a sapskull like Winthrop. She coloured a little and pulled the greatcoat closer against both the biting cold—surely snow was in the air?—and as protection, for her light gown was surely not made for walking up and down the streets of Pall Mall in the dark.
Frederick suppressed another curse, for the unsuitableness of their situation was not lost on him. He had arranged a hackney coach for the expiration of their concert, but since they had left the theatre early, there was little alternative but to walk, for waiting was unthinkable and there was not a single hack about for hire in the less fashionable Pellington Street off Pall Mall. Of course, when they approached the centre . . . But no! What a half-wit he was! If Seraphina was recognised with him, she would be ruined!
Much better by far to turn around and head towards the Thames. The walk would be longer but the chances of curious eyes far less. Better yet, Rhaz’s town residence. . . But no! The Dowager Duchess of Doncaster was probably still haunting the place. She would fall into fits if he were to arrive with Seraphina. Especially, he thought rather dourly, if Seraphina was indeed intended for Rhaz.
No, he would take her quickly down to the wharf, where there was always a hack for hire. From there it would be but a short distance back to Melden Terrace. He prayed that no one would pay too much attention to the caped figure at his side. She was shapeless in his greatcoat, but her features remained magnificent nonetheless and that hair could be the death of them. Too beautiful by far!
He turned the startled Seraphina swiftly round and began pacing away from the city centre. He took good care to keep to the roadside, second nature by breeding but also by good sense. If a carriage should happen to rumble by it would be he that they first saw, rather than the fair Seraphina.
He tucked her arm firmly in his, for he felt very protective all of a sudden and, despite all his years on the Peninsula, more than slightly vulnerable. His step matched Seraphina’s so exactly that he was certain that they were two people in perfect concert. He smiled a little to himself at this whimsicality. A concert of the soul. He wondered if Seraphina felt it. He looked at her and her eyes were shining so brilliantly he had to conclude she did. The walk—despite its odious necessity—would remain in his memory always.
THIRTEEN
The new gas lamps flickered a dim yellow for fifty yards or more before stopping as abruptly as they had started, several paces back from the entrance to the narrow, cobbled street that would wind its way down to the river. Frederick hoped that its very narrowness would serve to deter unwieldy coaches. In this way, their unchaperoned amble was less likely to raise brows. Still, the streets were now dark, the moonless sky verging on pitch-black, and he wondered whether he should, after all, have kept to more reputable thoroughfares.
Seraphina had no such qualms. The evening, to her, was magical. The strains of the harp still lingered in her ears, and though the spectacle had not been quite what she had expected or what, in fact, she ought to have witnessed, it did not detract from her enjoyment one jot. Further, the unprecedented chance of having her tutor all to herself in such heady circumstances was quite intoxicating. She peeped up at him from beneath her abundant auburn lashes. All she could see was his shoulder and sleeve, but that sight was in itself pleasurable, since the good captain obviously had no need or use for padding or artifice.
His dress was more debonair than usual, strictly military in style—deep, shadowy blue with silver epaulettes and matching buttons. Beneath his waistcoat she could detect an elegant gold seal and fob, though she blushed to look more closely. His pantaloons were a perfect fit and therefore quite unmentionable to a lady of good upbringing. Nevertheless, there was no law precluding her noticing and notice she did. Perhaps Frederick felt her stare upon him, for his grip tightened and the glance he threw her was not wholly servile like in nature.
Seraphina smiled up at him and he felt the breath knocked out of his very experienced, entirely masculine body. He was dizzied at the effect Seraphina had, given the fact that he was himself no greenhorn among the fairer sex. She was more beautiful than anyone he had ever encountered, but the attraction was more substantial than that. She understood his music and therefore his soul stripped bare. He understood her wiles and her mischief—had he not those self-same impulses deep within himself? And the attraction—that was no wishful imagining! He would wager all his quarterly earnings and more that she was as compelled as he.
The stars twinkled in the deep, dark sea of sky. Their lustre was reflected in Seraphina’s eyes as she looked at him, missing a step as she did so. He helped her correct her balance, pulling closed the greatcoat that had opened during the stumble. He trembled a little at the sight that greeted him. Pure white on delicate cream, her pearls shimmering and dancing like a veritable constellation of heavenly stars.
“Angel, my angel,” he breathed before setting her to rights.
“Beg pardon?” The words were forced from Seraphina, who felt so breathless she thought she might well fall
into a faint of sheer pleasure.
The captain shook his head and smiled. “Do you stargaze, Miss Seraphina?” He wished to steer her onto safer subjects and recover the distance that suddenly seemed to have been dangerously bridged.
“Stargaze? You mean with a telescope?”
Frederick nodded, watching her with interest. Most women would have assumed he meant vaguely looking up at a velvety sky and noticing the orbs of light that reflected back from the heavens in a meaningless cascade of twinkling illumination.
“Never, Captain!” Her tone was wistful, so Frederick decided to probe further as their feet brought them ever closer to their destination.
“Do you wish to?”
She nodded. “I was a sloth at the boring old globes, but I have to admit I have an interest in the heavens.”
“Perhaps because of your name.”
“Beg pardon?”
“ Seraph. Angel.”
The words, from his lips, were an intimate caress. Seraphina tried to hold his gaze but could not. The moment passed when he chuckled softly and asked her why she was such a sloth.
She coloured ruefully. “Detestable governesses! They forever prosed on about the terrestrial and celestial orbs just precisely when I wished to play truant in the meadows! ”
“You must have been a devil to teach!”
“You know firsthand, Captain!”
He nodded gravely, then reduced her quick remorse with a merry grin that she only just detected in the heady darkness. She tightened her arm on his sleeve and they walked on in companionable silence. This was first broken by Seraphina, who was curious as to the personality and habits of the handsome stranger who was rapidly capturing her heart.
“Do you stargaze, Captain?”
He nodded. “In Spain, the skies were pitch-dark and frequently, whilst we were waiting for a battle to be fought or nursing our wounds, we would look up from our truckle beds or even just the haystacks or plain earth we were lying on and gaze intently. Somewhere along the way I procured a little telescope and interested myself in the pure science of the thing.”
Madrigals And Mistletoe Page 13