Prelude for a Lord

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Prelude for a Lord Page 32

by Elliot, Camille


  “She could hardly know you were trying to steal it,” Alethea said.

  “It belongs to my family. If Sondrono had not sold the land where the wood was grown and the new owner cut down all the trees . . . if his idiot heir had not sold the violin to a peddler after Sondrono died . . .”

  So that was why Stradivari had never produced another violin with the same wood.

  “You should have simply sold it to Mr. Golding.” Mr. Kinnier nodded toward the tree line, behind which the solicitor sat huddled in the cold, keeping watch for Bayard to respond to the ransom note being delivered by the cadaverous man at this moment.

  “He was not persuasive,” Alethea said. “He simply made me curious to know why the violin was so coveted.”

  “If Dommick had not made those inquiries about the violin, and if people had not begun talking about it, none of this would have been necessary,” Kinnier said.

  “Or if your men had not botched the kidnapping at the concert. You really must hire better minions.”

  His face grew hard at her dig, but he did not explode at her again.

  “You are too heavy-handed,” she continued in a conversational tone. “You cause people to be desperate, and so they resort to desperate measures.”

  “Such as your marriage to Dommick?”

  “I am surprised you did not sign a betrothal agreement with Wilfred sooner than you did.”

  He gave her a nasty smile. “I had wanted to explore other avenues before resorting to such a desperate measure.”

  She supposed she deserved that.

  “In the end, it doesn’t matter. If I had married you, you would be equally as dead.” His face was frighteningly calm.

  “Bayard will not bring the violin, and in the end, you will have killed us both for nothing,” she said. She fought the panic rising in her. Too much time had passed. She needed to induce him to do something before Bayard received that note and arrived with the violin.

  And died.

  No, she had to trust God to take care of them both.

  And at that moment, she saw him.

  “No,” she moaned.

  Bayard approached the cemetery wall from the road. He opened the gate and entered, walking slowly. He carried her violin case.

  “I received your note. However, Mr. Collum took exception to the blow your grey man delivered to Miss Purcell, so they have detained the man at the abbey.”

  “She was putting up too much of a fuss,” Mr. Kinnier said in a conversational tone. “I am impressed you found her before she froze to death.”

  “I have brought your violin.” Bayard held the case aloft.

  In a flash, Kinnier was at Alethea’s side and had yanked her to her feet. The cold had numbed her limbs so that she could not feel her toes, and she wobbled.

  Kinnier pressed the gun to Alethea’s side. “I require all your compatriots to reveal themselves.”

  Bayard had stiffened, and his eyes were fierce upon the pistol. His gaze darted to the forest beyond them.

  Lord Ian and Lord Ravenhurst slowly walked from the trees. They held their shooting rifles, but kept them pointed to the ground. Their eyes were equally wary as they moved to stand beside Bayard.

  “Your servant as well,” Kinnier said. “Did you think I would forget him?”

  The bushes rustled, and Ord appeared. He also held a gun, but it was aimed at Mr. Golding, whose V-shaped mouth was a flat line. Ord prodded him with the tip of the rifle, and Mr. Golding stumbled forward.

  “Let Alethea go,” Bayard said.

  Kinnier gave a bark of laughter. “Are you really that stupid? Put the case on the ground and open it, facing me.”

  Bayard was only a few yards away, so Alethea saw the violin when the case lid was removed. It looked like hers and not the fake.

  “Play it,” Kinnier said.

  Bayard hesitated.

  “Play it or I shoot her.” He shoved the pistol hard into her ribs.

  She hissed, not from the pain but from the nervousness of his casual handling of the gun. She hoped it did not have a hair trigger.

  Bayard removed the violin and lifted it to his shoulder. He looked directly at her with serious eyes, as though trying to tell her something, but she did not know what. And then he began to play.

  It was her violin. The tone echoed through the cemetery with low, deep notes that seemed to make the tree roots rumble in the depths of the ground. The song captured all the chill of winter, the dead of the leaves, the bite of the frost. It was melancholy reverence for the harshness of nature and the end of life.

  She felt rather than heard Kinnier’s sigh as Bayard finished playing. “You defile it by playing it,” he hissed to Bayard.

  “Let her go.”

  “Put the violin in the case and close it. Leave it on the ground, then back away.”

  Bayard complied.

  “All of you back away.” Kinnier punctuated with another jab in Alethea’s ribs with the pistol.

  They moved slowly, every line of their bodies rigid except for Mr. Golding, prodded by Ord, who shuffled along with resentment burning from his eyes.

  Kinnier did not seem to care that Mr. Golding was held at gunpoint. “Pick it up,” he told her.

  She clasped the violin case to her, but nearly lost her grip when he grabbed her upper arm and thrust her forward. “Walk. Dommick, we will leave you now. If you so much as sneeze, I shall shoot her.”

  He kept the pistol pressed to her, his other arm around her. They moved away from Bayard, whose entire body was rigid.

  Because Kinnier had her so close to himself, she clearly felt when his hand reached for a second pistol in his coat pocket. As he drew it out, he twisted to take Bayard in his sights.

  “No!” Alethea swung the edge of the violin case at him.

  The deafening reports of the two pistols fired almost simultaneously, punctuated by splintering wood and a blinding pain in her side. She gasped and fell, her head ringing. She saw Bayard clutching his arm. Blood was smeared across his fingers.

  Then a third shot rang out from the trees and Kinnier jerked. Lying on the ground, Alethea felt the thud as both his pistols fell to earth.

  With a roar, Bayard launched himself at Kinnier.

  The two men flew away from her in a tangle of greatcoats. They both rolled, grass and mud clinging to them, and blood smeared from their wounds. Kinnier was on his feet first and he aimed a kick at Bayard’s head, but Bayard jerked aside and sent a sharp jab at the man’s torso. Kinnier grunted and went down on one knee.

  Bayard followed with a second blow to the jaw, and Kinnier arced back to land on the ground.

  The rage in Bayard’s face was primal. He got to his feet to attack Kinnier again, but Lord Ian locked Bayard’s arms in his own.

  “Let me go!” Bayard roared.

  Lord Ravenhurst had landed on Kinnier and flipped him over onto his stomach. He tore his cravat from his throat and began binding Kinnier’s hands. The man was still dazed from the blow Bayard had delivered.

  From behind the trees, a man with a smoking hunting rifle emerged, and Alethea recognized Bayard’s gamekeeper.

  And then Bayard was beside her, holding her close. She could feel the slamming of his heart.

  “I am well,” she said.

  “You are not.” He looked at her side.

  She could see that the bullet had gouged a furrow in her skin, but it was not deep. “A flesh wound,” she said.

  He crushed her against him again. “I thought I had lost you.” His voice was ragged against her throat.

  “I thought he would kill you,” she whispered.

  And then his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her fiercely, frantically, over and over again. He kissed her cheeks and eyes and jaw and neck and then her mouth again, each kiss hard with relief.

  And then he pulled back only long enough to say, “I love you.”

  The pain in her side was washed away by the elation that flooded her. “I love you,” she said
as he kissed her again.

  They were interrupted at last by Lord Ian. “You two are highly improper, and bloody messes to boot. Shall we adjourn to the abbey? I am in dire need of a hot toddy.”

  Bayard wrapped his greatcoat around her, and she breathed deep of oak, lime, and warm musk. He kept her close to his side as they turned their steps toward the abbey.

  Toward home.

  EPILOGUE

  I do not understand why I desired to do this again.” Alethea paced the antechamber that led off of Lady Whittlesby’s ballroom in her London townhouse. The music being played in the ballroom filled the antechamber, but Alethea could not enjoy it. Rather, the cats fighting in her stomach would not allow her to enjoy it. “My violin does not sound the same after the neck was replaced. And the tuning peg was loose this morning . . .”

  “I checked it an hour ago, and it is in perfect condition,” Bayard said from his position by the open door. “You are missing Clare’s performance. There are several young men looking at her rapturously . . .”

  “I can hear her, Raven, and Ian quite clearly. They are flawless.” Alethea made a swift turn and paced in the other direction. “I, on the other hand, am certain I shall play the wrong note the moment I draw my bow.”

  Bayard watched her with sardonic amusement. “You are quite adorable when you are nervous.”

  She shot him a glare but did not stop pacing. “You are exceedingly complimentary this evening, Lord Dommick.”

  “You were perfect last week at Lady Jersey’s dinner party.”

  “That was a performance in an informal setting in the drawing room after dinner. This is in front of . . .” She gulped. “. . . hundreds more people.”

  “Pretend it is simply the two of us in the music room at Terralton.”

  The memory made her stop her pacing to choke back a laugh, which had a slight note of hysteria. “The result of which scandalized Margaret, who still believes kissing is disgusting.”

  Bayard gave a wicked grin. “Yes, she nearly regretted your aunt’s decision to make their home with us. Are you quite remembering to breathe, my dear?”

  She had to concentrate to do so. “You should be very glad that this time, I am not in danger of fainting.”

  He suddenly pulled her close to him, and she gave a squeak of surprise at his strong arms around her waist, pressing her to him.

  “Well,” he said with a smile, “this seemed to work the last time.”

  And then he kissed her.

  [Fluffer Nutter]

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  1. Alethea suddenly finds herself and her aunt responsible for Margaret, a twelve-year-old girl. Have you ever had a responsibility suddenly thrust upon you? How did it make you feel? What did you do about it?

  2. Bayard is dealing with a painful episode in his past, and it has turned into a bitter inner wound. Can you relate to his pain? What should his friends and family have done for him? What should he have done for himself?

  3. Alethea, her sister, Lucy, and Bayard’s sister, Clare, are threatened by a dangerous man who wants Alethea’s violin for reasons they don’t know. Can you understand why she did what she did? What could she have done better?

  4. Because of his bitterness, Bayard feels emotionally cut off from his family and friends. Can you relate to how he feels? If he were your friend, what would you say to him?

  5. Mrs. Coon, the rector’s wife, is a strong Christian who is comfortable speaking about her faith. Can you relate to her, or do you know someone like her? What is your own way of sharing your faith?

  6. Bayard keeps doing all he can to try to protect Clare, but he feels helpless and guilty for the trouble he brings to the people he loves. Have you been in a situation where things were completely out of your control, and it seemed to be going from bad to worse? How did you feel? What did you do?

  7. Alethea is upset at God because she can’t understand why God would allow her family to betray her and hurt her so deeply. Have you been in a situation where you questioned why God allowed some evil to happen to you? How did you respond? How should we respond?

  8. As things get worse, Bayard just tries harder to protect Alethea and Clare on his own and gain some sense of control over the situation. Have you ever felt this way? How did you respond? What would you have done differently from Bayard?

  9. Bayard has been trying to protect Alethea and Clare on his own strength, but he has to learn how to completely trust God instead. What does he learn about himself and his Heavenly Father? How does that impact the choices he makes at the end?

  10. When Alethea shares with Bayard about how her family betrayed her and how she was able to heal from the traumatic experience, he responds with a strong emotional reaction (and a sizzling kiss!). Why did her words mean so much to him? How did her words change his thoughts or attitudes?

  11. The spiritual message of the book is: You are not alone, God loves you, and God will take care of you. The verses Alethea reads reiterate that: Romans 5:8, Romans 8:38–39, Jeremiah 31:3, Zephaniah 3:17. What does the spiritual message of the book and/or the verses mean to you?

  12. What were the most appealing parts of the book for you?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CAMILLE ELLIOT fell in love with Regency romances when she was in ninth grade and has been reading them ever since. In her free time, she knits Victorian lace shawls, works with the youth group at her church, and leads worship for Sunday service. She also tries to discipline her disobedient dog, but usually ends up giving it a treat, which annoys her engineer husband. They live in San Jose, California.

 

 

 


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