Prelude for a Lord

by Elliot, Camille

  Mr. Morrish’s smile thrust his large front teeth directly at her. “Lady Alethea, how delightful to meet you at last. I have heard so much about your musical abilities.”

  “I’m sure you have,” Alethea murmured before she could stop herself. Possibly things like absurdly strange and such a curiosity.

  “What instrument do you play?” Mr. Morrish asked.

  For a man who had heard so much about her, he hadn’t apparently paid a great deal of attention. She picked one of the other least acceptable instruments for an Englishwoman of the peerage. “The oboe.” Which wasn’t a lie, since Calandra had owned an oboe and taught her. Alethea simply hadn’t enjoyed playing it very much.

  Mr. Morrish blinked at her in surprise. She wondered if he had even heard of an oboe.

  Miss Terralton went into a paroxysm of coughing, which also served to distract Mr. Morrish. He seemed overly solicitous for Miss Terralton’s health, and Miss Terralton seemed overly annoyed by his attentions, so when the coughing subsided, Alethea cut into one of Mr. Morrish’s speeches. “Miss Terralton, I do apologize for taking your brother for the first dance when he should have been dancing with you.”

  The young woman studied Alethea with bright, intelligent eyes and picked up on Alethea’s hint. “I will forgive you if Bay dances with me now.” The young woman smiled at her older brother, who cast Alethea a glance before leading his sister away.

  Except that Alethea didn’t fancy entertaining the lecherous young man, which she realized too late. Mr. Morrish asked her with lubricious gallantry, “Would you do me the honour of dancing with me, Lady Alethea?”

  “I am fatigued and wish to sit this dance.” She rather abruptly dropped into the chair next to Lady Morrish. “However, I think Miss Herrington-Smythe would be most honoured by a dance with you. Or perhaps Miss Oakridge.”

  “I am afraid I am unacquainted with the ladies.” He smiled as if the omission were the greatest delight of his evening. “Otherwise, I should be most pleased to bestow my hand to your friend.”

  “I am acquainted with them,” Lady Morrish said. “What a good idea, Lady Alethea. Come, Mr. Morrish, I shall introduce you.” She rose and drew the man away.

  Alethea gave a great exhale as soon as he was out of earshot.

  “Nicely played.” Lord Ian dropped down to lounge in the chair vacated by Lady Morrish. “How is our dear Miss Herrington-Smythe? Claws recently sharpened?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  “Ian . . . ,” Lord Ravenhurst said in a deep voice.

  Lord Ian ignored his friend and turned to Alethea in a confiding manner. “In Miss Herrington-Smythe’s first season in London, at a dinner party, she sang abominably after dinner. Other gentlemen paid fulsome compliments. She said, ‘La, my performance was but mediocre. Surely Lord Ian can attest to that.’ I would not prevaricate in order to indulge her conceit, so I said, ‘Yes.’ ”

  “You could have said something polite that would not be a lie.” Lord Ravenhurst frowned at his friend.

  “When a woman is fishing for compliments, she must not expect to be spoiled. Later that evening she sat with a friend, happily slandering me, unaware I sat behind her, hidden by a potted palm. But then Raven put an end to my fun when he shouted, ‘Ian, come out from behind that palm!’ ”

  Alethea laughed.

  “And thus ended my brief infatuation with Miss Herrington—” He broke off with a roll of his eyes. “That woman needs to marry someone like Sir Harold Trout, if only to shorten her name.”

  Lord Ravenhurst gave him a baleful look. “So it’ll be easier for you to gossip about her?”

  “Of course.” Lord Ian raised a hand to flip his hair out of his eyes. “We shall see how disapproving you are in a week. You are the youngest unmarried marquess in a fifty-mile radius, and so her new target. Your residence has enlivened Bath for her.”

  Lord Ravenhurst exhaled with a sound suspiciously like a moan.

  Alethea was surprised. Her experience with men had been limited to those who were controlling, sadistic, or shallow. Yet here were two young men obviously fond of each other, able to tease the way she did with Lucy. She had seen a hint of it when Lord Ian accompanied Lord Dommick to her aunt’s home, but now she saw the depth of their bond. Almost like brothers. It went beyond their mutual interest in music, for although they were very different personalities, they accepted each other as they were. It chastised her for assuming that all men were as selfish and unfeeling as her father and brother.

  “Will you three give a concert this winter?” Alethea asked.

  “Yes,” Lord Ravenhurst said. “We are each writing new pieces to perform.”

  Alethea clasped her hands together. “How wonderful. Will you be publishing your pieces after the concert? When I was at Trittonstone Park, I had difficulty procuring some of your music when the Quartet was still playing in London several years ago.”

  “What pieces would you like? I would consider it an honour to give them to you.” Lord Ian flashed his dimples at her. Even in the depths of the country she had heard about his infamous charm.

  “Did you or Lord Dommick ever publish your violin concertos? I should love to learn them.”

  The smile Lord Ian gave Alethea now had a gleam as if he understood her more than she wanted him to. “Bay has never heard a woman play one of his violin pieces. I am sure it would be highly entertaining to see his reaction.”

  Lord Ravenhurst glared at his friend. “Are you planning what I think you’re planning?”

  “A pleasant surprise for our good friend?” Ian said.

  “Define ‘pleasant.’ ”

  “You haven’t heard Lady Alethea play, Raven. And her instrument is truly remarkable.”

  “So, why wouldn’t you simply give her one of your violin compositions to play?”

  “Oh, I will give her mine. But she would find Bay’s pieces more of a challenge.” Lord Ian leveled her a glance that dared her to join in his mischief.

  And Alethea was more than willing. “If you give me a piece of violin music, I would be happy to master it.”

  He grinned at her. “I’m sure you would be.”

  “I know nothing, I hear nothing,” Lord Ravenhurst said with a long-suffering sigh.

  Lady Morrish returned at that moment, and Lord Ian relinquished his seat. “Whom did you introduce Mr. Morrish to?” His polite curiosity hid his amusement.

  “Miss Herrington-Smythe.” Lady Morrish pointed to where Mr. Morrish led the young lady down the dance. “I had hoped Miss Oakridge was available, but she already had a partner.”

  “Lady Morrish, could you tell me if Miss Oakridge knows much about her grandmother’s Italian side of the family?” Alethea asked.

  “Oh, I shouldn’t think she knows much, but Lady Fairmont is very knowledgeable. Sometimes I wonder if she isn’t related to every noble family in Italy.”

  “I wondered if she knew any Italian nobleman with these initials.” Alethea withdrew the scrap of paper she had tucked into her glove and showed it to Lady Morrish.

  The two young men peered over her shoulder at the paper. “Ah,” Lord Ian said, “you copied it, did you?”

  “You will have a difficult time speaking to Lady Fairmont,” Lady Morrish said. “This ball is a sad crush.”

  Lord Ravenhurst cleared his throat. “If I may, I have a dance with Lady Fairmont later and could ask her if she would spare a few minutes to speak to you.”

  Alethea blinked. She couldn’t recall the last time a man had offered to do something for her. But perhaps he was merely assisting his friend. “Thank you, my lord. I would be most grateful.”

  He bowed, but then added with a half smile, “I would always be at the service of any woman who prefers . . . challenging Bayard to fawning over him.”

  Alethea smiled. “For shame, my lord. Lord Dommick and I have met thrice this winter and have yet to come to fisticuffs.”

  “Alethea, there you are.” Aunt Ebena appro
ached, and Alethea stood.

  Lady Morrish said, “Mrs. Garen, how lovely to see you again. It has been many years since I last saw you in London.”

  Aunt Ebena sat in Alethea’s vacated seat. “I am pleased to see you again, Lady Dom—no, you remarried this past year, did you not?”

  “I am Lady Morrish now.”

  Alethea hadn’t realized until the two women started chatting that Aunt Ebena had spent every season in London with her husband for several years, until his health failed him. This had all been before Alethea’s season. Aunt Ebena was polite to Lady Morrish, who responded with friendliness. By now, Alethea was used to the fact that Aunt Ebena’s civility extended to society but not to her niece. But perhaps that was true for all families. It had been Alethea’s experience with hers, except with Lucy.

  She missed her sister now as she surveyed the room. The stares and whispers and Miss Herrington-Smythe’s unkindness had only emphasized how few friends she had. Was she so odd that she could be friendly with no one? It had become clear to her within her first month in Bath that she had very little in common with the people she met. Even the young Bath misses seemed to understand the rules of society better than she did. She only understood the countryside and music, both topics that held little popular interest and only garnered her snide censure.

  But that was not true with the two gentlemen standing beside her. She turned to Lord Ian. “I am amazed that the Quartet is resurfacing after all these years, and without Captain Enlow.”

  “Yes, David’s still fighting Boney. We shall have to find someone to take his place, poor chap,” Lord Ian said. “Shall you fill in?”

  “I doubt Lord Dommick would allow that,” she said.

  “He’s a touch sensitive about his public image at the moment.”

  Lord Ravenhurst shot Lord Ian a look, and after a moment, looking conscientious, Lord Ian said no more.

  She asked, “Have the four of you known each other long?”

  “Since Eton,” Lord Ravenhurst said.

  “Brought together by music?”

  “Brought together by a fight, actually.” Lord Ian grinned. “No lad will stand for being accused of liking music. Two boys were picking on Bayard and me because they heard us talking about music. No one dared pick on David since even then he was a big, strong fellow, and Raven has that forbidding glare he probably practiced from the womb.”

  “A contributing factor may be that I outranked all but one of the boys there,” Lord Ravenhurst remarked dryly.

  “Well, Bayard and I weren’t about to let those nodcocks insult our masculinity, so we went at them. But there were six of them and only two of us, and so David and Raven joined in the fight.”

  “Good gracious.” She could picture them as boys, lively and passionate about anything they put their minds to.

  “Oh, it was great fun. Those bullies couldn’t throw a proper punch if you lined it up for them. But our headmaster wasn’t as amused by it.”

  “Nothing like mutual punishment to bring boys together,” Lord Ravenhurst said.

  Alethea smiled. “Most young noblemen do not continue their musical training after they enter society, but you four are remarkably accomplished. Your skills rival professional musicians.”

  Lord Ian bowed. “We had two of the most vicious musical masters in Oxford who whipped us into shape soon enough.”

  “He exaggerates, my lady,” Lord Ravenhurst said. “There were two retired musicians living near Oxford who trained us informally, especially in composition. One was German trained by an Italian master, and the other was French.”

  “So, that is why your music is so unique. You have had influences from all three,” Alethea said. “At the concert I attended in London, Captain Enlow’s violin and pianoforte concerto was more lighthearted and complex than any I had heard before, but since then I have heard French compositions with a similar style.”

  Lord Ravenhurst’s white-blond eyebrows rose as he regarded her. “That is very astute of you. When he wrote it, Mr. Enlow was hoping to emulate the atmosphere of French pieces.”

  “I have not heard much music from other parts of the continent, but I have played several pieces from Mozart,” Alethea said. “His music is not very popular here in Bath.”

  “Have you heard any of Beethoven’s pieces?” Lord Ravenhurst asked. “You would enjoy them.”

  The dance ended, and Dommick returned with his sister. Alethea had not had so enjoyable a conversation in years. Her aunt did not allow her to speak to professional musicians at concerts, who tended to be of the middle class.

  “Are you speaking of Beethoven?” Miss Terralton said. “Raven and I adore his music, but Ian pretends to disdain it.”

  “My dear Clare, I only disdain it because you are in raptures about it,” Lord Ian said. “If you only considered it adequate, I would then be Beethoven’s greatest proponent.”

  Miss Terralton gave Lord Ian a disgusted look. He grinned back at her.

  “Do you like Beethoven, Lady Alethea?” Miss Terralton asked her.

  “I am afraid I have never heard his music.”

  “I have a trio I can lend to you. Usually Bayard and Raven play the violin and violoncello and I play pianoforte, but you play the violin, do you not?”

  “Yes, indeed.” Alethea refrained from looking at Lord Dommick.

  Lord Ian had no such restraint. “Lady Alethea plays well and has a very fine violin, doesn’t she, Bay? A Stradivarius?”

  “We are not certain it is a Stradivarius, but I believe so,” Lord Dommick said.

  “Have you taken it to Quill?” Lord Ravenhurst asked. “He would be able to verify it for a certainty.”

  “Alethea is understandably hesitant to go traipsing about with her violin in hand.”

  There was a beat of silence as everyone, including Dommick, realized he had called her by her name only. He had done so in front of Miss Herrington-Smythe to put her in her place, but to do it casually in front of his family shocked Alethea. His face was impassive, but she caught the colour seeping up his neck and realized he must have done so by accident.

  Lady Morrish was the first to speak. “Why don’t you take your instrument-maker friend to Mrs. Garen’s home to look at the violin there?” She turned toward Aunt Ebena. “If you have no objection, of course?”

  Aunt Ebena was regarding Lord Dommick with a thoughtful—and not very friendly—eye, but she nodded to Lady Morrish. “I should not mind at all.”

  “I shall visit Quill tomorrow and arrange a time for us to come by this week,” Lord Dommick said.

  “You may call tomorrow, if it suits you,” Aunt Ebena said. Alethea wondered at her aunt’s graciousness until she realized that for several days this week, her aunt had other engagements and Alethea would be home unchaperoned.

  “Mr. Quill is a good instrument maker and repairer, and he is considered an expert on instrument forgeries,” Lord Dommick said. “He is especially gifted in ferreting out violins purported to be by Stradivari.”

  “I have never claimed my violin was a Stradivarius,” Alethea said hotly. However, she had always suspected it was.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Alethea,” Aunt Ebena said. “He is only confirming if it is or is not. He is not accusing you of anything.”

  “Of course not,” Lord Dommick said quickly. “I did not mean to imply anything.”

  “I apologize, Lord Dommick,” Alethea said. Why was she so quick to take offense at everything he said? Something about him put her on edge.

  Beside her, Miss Terralton suddenly tensed. Alethea turned to see Mr. Morrish approaching them.

  “You both require rescuing,” Lord Ian said with a wink. “Raven, take Clare out for this dance, will you?” He grasped Alethea’s hand and led her to the dancers forming the new set.

  “Thank you for thinking of me, but I have danced with many an unpleasant man,” Alethea said.

  “While I have only your best interests at heart, Lady Alethea, I am also concerned fo
r Clare.” He bowed to her as the music started.

  “Miss Terralton?”

  “At all the events we have attended since we arrived in Bath, Mr. Morrish has only ever associated with Clare or her female friends.”

  “Surely he has his own friends?”

  “If he does, they all happen to be female and in a close relationship with Clare.”

  “Oh.” Alethea realized she would not like a man like Mr. Morrish around her own sister. Something about him made her feel as if she had butter smeared on her hands and she longed to wipe them.

  She spent an enjoyable evening with Lord Dommick and his friends and family. Their stamp of approval appeared to temporarily dampen the whispering about Alethea, and several other men asked her to dance. However, they always returned her to Lady Morrish, since Aunt Ebena sat next to the woman for much of the evening, and neither lady was inclined to move. Alethea didn’t know what they spoke of, but neither lady appeared bored.

  Finally, Lord Ravenhurst had his dance with Lady Fairmont. Alethea refused a gentleman who asked her to dance and waited for Lord Ravenhurst to return to Lady Morrish.

  Lord Ian was dancing, and Miss Terralton had accepted the hand of a young man with bright blue eyes. Lord Dommick stood at Alethea’s side, but his gaze remained on his sister.

  “You are very solicitous of your sister, my lord,” she said.

  “She is very dear to me,” he said.

  His answer surprised her. Her father and brother had only considered her a duty or an asset to be used, so it was hard for her to picture a man who cared for his family.

  He turned to her. “And I asked you to call me Dommick.”

  His eyes were very near hers. They held a hint of amusement, a hint of uncertainty, a hint of awkwardness. Her blood pounding in her ears made it difficult to gather her thoughts to answer him.

  “Or would you prefer to call me Bayard? Raven and Ian do so because we grew up as boys together.”