My Fair Guardian

by Suzanne G. Rogers

  Nick Masters approached. “Good evening, Miss Christensen. I’ve never seen you look so beautiful.” He exchanged a short bow with Will. “Mr. Winter.”

  Bethany curtsied. “Good evening, Mr. Masters. I had not realized you were to be here.”

  Seemingly out of nowhere, Magenta Urban appeared and slid her arm through Will’s. The woman had donned a peacock blue satin gown with a low neckline that showed off her feminine figure in all its glory. If Bethany was not very much mistaken, the woman was also wearing rouge and lip paint. Thank heavens Will was immune to her charms.

  “Hello, Mr. Winter.” Magenta pressed herself into Will’s arm. “Are we are to hear you play or sing tonight?”

  Will chuckled. “I would not inflict my musical talents on you for anything in the world, Miss Urban.”

  Magenta gave Bethany a beaming smile. “Will you excuse us for a little while? I want to show Mr. Winter a beautiful painting in the library.”

  A surge of annoyance ensued, but Bethany smiled nevertheless. “Don’t tarry overlong. I believe the musical program will begin shortly.”

  She exchanged the briefest of glances with Will before Magenta tugged him out of the drawing room.

  Nick beamed. “Let’s go add your name to the list of performers for this evening. I daresay few pianists will be your equal.”

  Bethany thought his flowery praise overstated her abilities, but she accompanied him toward the piano where the list was kept. She signed her name before realizing she was to follow Magenta—whose skill at the piano was unparalleled.

  “I’m to play after Miss Urban, it seems.” Bethany shrugged. “I only hope we are not to play the same piece or I shall be caught off guard.”

  “What were you planning to play?”

  “Liszt’s ‘La Campanella.’” She laughed. “My piano was out of tune, but after I paid an excellent tuner to sort it out, I practiced every morning faithfully. It’s a challenging piece, but I hope to do it justice.”

  “I look forward to hearing you play.”

  “What about you, Mr. Masters? You possess a fine tenor.”

  “I’m first on the list, in point of fact. Our lovely hostess has agreed to accompany me on “La donna è mobile” from Rigoletto.”

  Bethany’s gasp of delight was genuine. “What a treat!”

  He brought her hands to his lips. “I was hoping to hear you say that.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Well Played

  Will stared at the pedestrian seascape hanging on the library wall, trying to devise a plausible compliment. “It’s…well, the use of color—”

  “Oh, it’s nothing special, I know.” Miss Urban sidled up to him. “I just wanted to speak with you alone for a short while. I hope you don’t mind.”

  He stepped back and moved off several paces. “I believe you may have mistaken my warm regard for something more. If so, I apologize.”

  The woman’s pout showed her luscious lips to their best advantage—or was paint giving them a rosy glow? “Come now, Mr. Winter. I’m not looking for matrimony if that’s what you fear.”

  She sauntered toward Will, who was obliged to put a chair between them.

  “I don’t wish to offend you, but I’m not looking for feminine company of any kind.”

  Her arched eyebrows rose. “It’s like that, is it? I can put you in touch with several male friends of mine who enjoy such relations. Some of them are even in attendance at the soiree this evening.”

  Will peered at her, puzzled. “What?” Realization dawned. “No, that’s not what I’m talking about whatsoever.” He bowed. “Forgive me, but I must return to the festivities.”

  He crossed toward the door, but Miss Urban intercepted him.

  “Don’t be offended, Mr. Winter. I’m merely a girl who isn’t afraid to go after what she wants.” Her emerald eyes were wide with feigned innocence as she reached for his hands. “Will you give me a kiss on the cheek to show we’re still friends? I don’t want Bethany to think we’ve had a quarrel.”

  He bent down, intending to brush the barest of kisses on her cheek. Unfortunately, she turned her head at the last moment and their lips met.

  Will jerked back and glared. “You should join the theater, Miss Urban, where women like you are in great demand.”

  “How dare you, sir!” The young woman tugged off her glove and slapped him across the face, even though her expression remained placid. “I’ve never been so insulted in my entire life.”

  His skin stung somewhat, but Will didn’t care a jot. “Not within your hearing, I’m sure.”

  She made a sound of umbrage and glided from the room. Will gave her a few moments head start before he strode into the hallway, nearly colliding with a servant carrying a tray of half-empty glasses.

  “Oh, sorry old boy.” Will reached out to steady the man, but as his eyes focused on the servant’s face, he gasped. “Charlie?”

  “Willoughby?” Charlie peered at him. “I never would have recognized you in those clothes. You inherit a fortune or something like that?”

  “Something exactly like that.”

  Charlie grimaced. “You’ve got lip pomade smeared on your mouth. I presume you wouldn’t want anyone to see it.”

  “Blimey.” Will retrieved a handkerchief and wiped his lips. “Clean?”

  “Clean.” The man glanced over his shoulder. “You ought not be seen talking with me. Servants and toffs don’t mix.”

  “I’ll slip away during the musical performances and we’ll talk more then.” Will grinned. “It’s uncommonly good to see an old friend.”

  “Aye, it is.” Charlie nodded toward the entrance hall. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Will stuffed his handkerchief into his pocket, and returned to the drawing room, where people were already beginning to take their seats. Miss Christensen was lingering near the doorway when he arrived.

  “There you are! Nick has asked me to sit with him in the front row.”

  “Did you save a seat for me?”

  “Yes, but Miss Urban took it just now. Since she’s the fourth to perform, I couldn’t say ‘no.’”

  “I’ll sit in back, then.”

  “I’m the fifth person on the program.” Miss Christensen bit her lip. “I’m a trifle apprehensive, to be honest.”

  “I expect you’ll play smashingly well.” Will gave her an encouraging smile. “Never mind anyone else, just play for your guardian, all right?”

  “All right.” Her smile faded. “You’ve a mark on your face. Did someone strike you?”

  Unwilling to upset Miss Christensen before her performance, Will shook his head. “It’s quite a jolly story but it will have to wait until later.” He nodded toward the front of the room. “Go on, then.”

  She hastened off, even as a muscle worked in his jaw. Now he would have to explain himself to her—which he suspected had been Miss Urban’s intention all along. He shook his head, perplexed more than ever. Why had Miss Christensen suggested Magenta to him as a desirable companion?

  ∞∞∞

  Bethany took her seat but clutched her gloves in her hands to hide the nervous perspiration coating her palms. Ordinarily, she wasn’t bashful about performing at these affairs, but something about tonight felt different. She wanted to demonstrate her talent to Will, who had never seen her perform in public before. Furthermore, Magenta was well known as a first-class pianist and it was important not to suffer by comparison. Sadly, the woman sank into the chair next to her.

  “You seem quite nervous, Bethany.” Magenta glanced at her clenched hands with a smirk. “You ought to relax, or your performance will be adversely affected.”

  “Thank you, Magenta,” Bethany managed. “You are right.”

  She relaxed her fingers and ended up gritting her teeth instead. Very shortly thereafter, Lady Jensen stood in the front of the room, made a few welcoming remarks, and introduced Nick Masters as the first performer for the evening. Since Bethany was looking forward to his pe
rformance, her nerves were granted a short reprieve. She murmured, “Good luck,” as he rose from his chair and stood next to the piano. His clear tenor was truly dazzling in the solo, and Bethany was transported. When she stood to applaud afterward, everyone else in the room rose as well. As Nick was taking several bows, Magenta leaned over to whisper, “Mr. Masters is a true virtuoso, I must say. It’s a pity you let him go so readily, but perhaps it’s not too late for the two of you.”

  Bethany’s posture stiffened. “You have a great deal of hubris to say such a thing, especially considering your role in the affair.”

  Magenta smiled. “Try harder next time to hold on to what’s yours.”

  Bethany sank into her chair, nearly dizzy with fury. She managed to congratulate Nick on his performance when he returned, but inside she was seething. Over the next few performances, she used her anger to forge an unshakeable resolve to outperform Magenta in every way. She had even achieved an admirable composure when the woman got up to perform—until the opening chords to Liszt’s “La Campanella” reached Bethany’s ears.

  Nick winced, reached over and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. “Oh, dear.”

  Bethany’s mind reeled. Of all the music in the universe, how could she and Magenta have chosen the same piece? There was only one explanation, and it beggared belief. Nick must have told Magenta…but why? He had broken things off with Bethany last year because Magenta crooked her finger in his direction. Obviously, he and Magenta were no longer courting, so why would he pass her information? She withdrew her hand from Nick’s without glancing over. Although she felt his eyes upon her as a result, she refused to meet his gaze. Nothing would convince her that Magenta’s choice of music was happenstance. To add insult to injury, Magenta was playing it far more deftly than Bethany would have done.

  When the piece was done, Magenta rose to receive her standing ovation. Although Bethany’s applause was polite, she remained seated. The snub was sure to be remarked upon by the other guests as churlish or motivated by envy, but Bethany was done being cordial and good-natured. If Magenta’s intent had been to induce her to withdraw, she would be sadly mistaken. Bethany was not as facile with music, but she knew one other piece by heart and she would play it to the best of her ability. In fact, it might send exactly the proper message to Will. After all, it was his impressions that really mattered in the end.

  She changed places with Magenta at the piano and took a moment to find Will amongst the guests. He was standing next to the doorway, tall and commanding in appearance. Bethany gave him a slow smile, which he returned in kind. Then, she sat down to play Beethoven’s “Sonate au Clair de Lune” with every bit of passion she had within her. When she finished, a long moment of silence ensued and she wondered if she’d made a fool of herself. To her shock, Lady Jensen let out a little sob and began to clap. Bewildered, Bethany glanced around the room to discover several ladies—and a few gentlemen—were dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs. A ripple of applause became louder, and as the guests stood, their compliments made Bethany glow with pleasure. She could only conclude that people appreciated technical expertise, but they responded even more to emotion. Although she tried to catch Will’s eye, it was impossible to see him through the guests.

  As Bethany returned to her seat, Magenta’s lips curved in a smirk. “Well played, I must say.”

  Bethany met the woman’s gaze. “Coming from you, that’s a compliment indeed.”

  As she sank into her chair, Nick beamed. “I’ve never seen a group of people who were more moved at a musical soiree, Miss Christensen.”

  Since she could not shake off her suspicions about Nick’s perfidy, her answering smile was contained. She had no proof he’d told Magenta anything, but the entire episode was too convenient to be happenstance—or was it?

  Confused, Bethany began to develop a headache.

  ∞∞∞

  The music Miss Christensen had performed seemed to Will like a solemn, sacred, and heartbreaking prayer of longing and love. His throat closed up and moisture prickled the backs of his eyelids, especially when he considered what she had told him about the unfulfilled romance between the composer and his pupil. Was she trying to indicate the relationship between them would end the same way? Although he attempted to smile at her when she finished her performance, the reaction of the other guests made it impossible.

  When the next two performers rose to sing a duet, Will slipped out the door to find his old friend, Charlie. The young man was waiting for him next to the staircase, and grinned as he approached. Will stuck out his hand for a handshake.

  Will grinned. “Let’s step into the library for a few minutes, shall we?”

  Charlie glanced around. “Good idea. It wouldn’t do for me to be seen talking to a toff. I’d never live down the humiliation.”

  They shared a laugh as they headed down the corridor and into the empty library.

  Will turned to face his friend. “So, Charlie, you left the theater in favor of service?”

  “Not at all. I’m just working as extra help during the Season to make ends meet.” The man shook his head. “These wealthy people live quite high.”

  “I know. It feels like a world apart.” Will grinned. “To say I was shocked to come into an unexpected inheritance would be an understatement. In addition, I’m now ward to a young woman and her younger sister.”

  Charlie whistled through his teeth. “You can’t mean that beauty who gave you a taste of her lips earlier? The one with the…” his voice trailed off in favor of pantomiming a prodigious bust.

  Will groaned. “Heavens, no, not Miss Urban. Miss Christensen is the exquisite, fair-haired creature with the angelic countenance.”

  “Willoughby Winter is finally smitten, I see.” Charlie gave him a cautionary glance. “I hate to break it to you, lad, but she’s out of your reach.”

  Will gave him a crooked smile. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  “Despite your inheritance, you’ll never be part of this crowd.” Charlie leaned in closer and lowered his voice a trifle. “These people think servants are invisible. You wouldn’t believe what secrets I hear.”

  “Really? That could come in useful.” Will crossed over to the writing desk, found a pencil and paper, and drew a picture of Nick. “If you happen to hear anything about a young chap by the name of Nicholas Masters, let me know. He was the first performer tonight. While you’re at it, if you discover anything about Miss Urban, I’d like to know that, too.”

  Will dug into his pocket for his calling card and a sovereign and gave it to Charlie along with the drawing. His friend tossed the coin in the air and caught it with one hand.

  “I’ll keep an ear out for you.” The fellow gave the drawing an admiring glance. “This is brilliant, mate.”

  “Do you need a drawing of Miss Urban?”

  Charlie chuckled. “Her, I don’t need a picture of. She’s seared into my brain, that one.”

  Will shuddered. “If that’s the case, I feel sorry for you.”

  ∞∞∞

  As soon as Will and Miss Christensen were settled in the Landau, it began to move forward. Despite her triumph at the musical soiree, she seemed pensive.

  Will sought to reassure her. “You were wonderful tonight. You held the audience in the palm of your hand.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Winter. I hadn’t planned to play “Sonate au Clair de Lune,” but Magenta played the other piece I had prepared.” Her eyes glistened with emotion. “I’m not sure I’ve ever detested anyone more than I do her.”

  Will leaned forward, not certain he had heard her correctly. “What?”

  “She’s bedeviled me ever since I made my debut. Any gentleman I ever showed any interest in, Magenta seemed determined to usurp me.”

  “Is that what happened between you and Mr. Masters?”

  “Yes.”

  Miss Christensen’s tears spilled over and Will hastened to offer her his handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes before turning the l
inen square over.

  “Oh, heavens, this is stained.”

  Will’s eyes widened in panic as he reached for the handkerchief. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

  “Wait a moment…” Miss Christensen held the handkerchief next to the window of the carriage so the gas lamps outside could illuminate the stain. “Is this blood?”

  He sighed. “No.”

  Her gaze riveted onto his. “This is Magenta’s lip paint.”

  She tossed the handkerchief at Will, but it fell to the floor of the carriage.

  “I can explain.” His shoulders grew tight. “She maneuvered to get me alone before the soiree began, and she insisted on kissing my cheek. I was obliged to wipe the paint off afterward.”

  Miss Christensen’s complexion grew pale. “Magenta insisted? As I recall, you returned from the library with a distinct handprint on your face. You attempted to take liberties!”

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “You have it all backward! You have my word as a gentleman that I have no interest in Miss Urban whatsoever. I find her indistinguishable from the actresses who used to entertain wealthy patrons in their dressing rooms after a performance.”

  “No doubt you find at least some of her charms irresistible.”

  “No, I don’t.” Will shook his head. “I gave the woman no encouragement, but she kissed me nonetheless.”

  Miss Christensen’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not stupid, Mr. Winter.”

  His dismay turned to umbrage. “If I’d wanted to kiss Miss Urban, I would have done so without apology, I assure you.” He snatched his handkerchief off the floor of the carriage and stuffed it into his pocket. “Since you hate her so much, why on earth have you been praising her to me this entire while?”

  “You were determined to marry me off, so I thought she would distract you from your aim. I presumed she would find you irresistible.”

  “To what end? You knew I had no interest in marriage.”

  “Magenta deserves a good jilting.”