Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03]

by Strangers Kiss

“You know, Garrett, sometimes you talk too much.”

  Garrett laughed. “When Olivia says that I know exactly what she has in mind. From you I will give it a different meaning and sit quietly if you will at least share the brandy.”

  Meryon shrugged. He’d understood the joke but did not find it very amusing. Handing the bottle to Garrett, they shared it without cups. After his third swallow Meryon decided that the silence was a sympathetic one, or the brandy made it seem so. “I sent a note of apology for my insult, and this is the first time I will see her since she received it.”

  Garrett grabbed the bottle out of his hand. “Then that is enough spirits, Meryon. Stick with lemonade and save the rest of the brandy for the ride home.”

  Meryon snatched the bottle back, took one last gulp of the brandy, and put it back under the seat.

  “Enough!”

  Garrett’s sharp word startled him.

  “Now I see where Rexton learned to sulk. For God’s sake, man, if it was your fault accept responsibility for it and move on. If you want to try again, I promise you that a drunken, petulant declaration will win you no favors.”

  Meryon glared at him.

  “No, I will not meet you at Jackson’s. I leave tomorrow and want to return to my bride without bruise or blemish.”

  “I miss Olivia’s cinnamon buns.”

  “Good God, you’re drunk already. How much did you have before we left?”

  “Some.”

  “More than some.” Garrett rapped on the ceiling and told the driver to take them back to Penn Square.

  “No. I want to go to the house on St. German Street and drink until we fall down.”

  “That won’t take long in your case.”

  “Then I will sleep in the bed there and you can sleep wherever you want.”

  Garrett laughed. “Not with you, Your Grace.”

  “No, no. Don’t be ridiculous.” Meryon waved away the idea. “There are other bedrooms there. The maid will make one up.”

  And that was how the Duke of Meryon came to sleep in the great big bed he had shared with Elena, all by himself though his dreams were hardly lonely.

  TWO DAYS LATER, as he looked for the invitation to the musicale at Baron Monksford’s, Meryon decided he had made a monster of this first meeting with Signora Verano. The longer he stayed away from the social scene the more it would make The Gossips curious.

  With the house to himself again, his own company bored him in the extreme and he had always found spirits an unreliable escape from the world around him.

  Surely Elena had an invitation to sing tonight at Monksford’s. The Duke of Meryon could join the number who crowded around her after she sang. He fortified himself with a good dinner and several cups of coffee and not one drop of wine.

  If Blix thought the duke too particular about his dress, he made no comment and willingly ruined two lengths of linen before the duke announced his satisfaction with his cravat. Blix did have to ask the duke to stop advising him, as he could not contrive a proper knot if the duke would not close his mouth.

  Meryon knew he could not tolerate waiting in a long line of carriages and so decided to arrive early. Still, he sat alone in his brandyless carriage long enough to have a headache from pretending that he had no worries about this meeting with Elena Verano. She might not fall into his arms, but surely she would not give him the cut direct.

  No, she would not do that, if for no other reason than his rank. Small consolation but all he felt entitled to.

  Neither Gabriel nor Garrett had asked him exactly how he had offended the Signora. But both knew that the offense had been his. He had no idea how. Maybe they understood as he now did that the man was always the one in the wrong. If they knew the details, Meryon knew they would be shocked by his crudeness.

  Impulse. Damnable impulse. If he had thought for five minutes he would have approached her differently. Or not at all.

  Baron Monksford welcomed him with his too effusive deference. His wife was as charming as he was not, and Meryon found himself happily discussing the upcoming Season and the Monksfords’ daughter’s bow to society.

  “I recall how nervous I was,” Lady Monksford said, “but Rosemary is as calm and collected as her father.”

  Is that how she saw her husband? Meryon thought it must have been a love match. From his perspective the baron was stolid and unimaginative. If Rosemary was anything like him, then she would be something less than a raging success. That, however was not his problem. As Lady Monksford moved on to greet another early arrival, Meryon stepped into a ballroom lined with chairs.

  How did people regard him? His family understood his efforts to control his temper and knew that beneath that façade was a great deal of passion of all kinds. The rest of the world saw him simply as a duke, he decided. His title distracted them from the man he was to the man they expected him to be.

  How did Elena Verano see him? She was one of the rare few who saw the man beyond the title. Other than that he would not guess or he would turn around and run for the brandy.

  THE DUKE OF MERYON? He is a man with a title, Mia. I expect nothing from him but courtesy.” Elena kept her tone light.

  “But what happened? William says—”

  Elena raised her hand to stop whatever it was William had said to Mia. She did not want to hear it.

  “I suspect that the duke has left town.”

  “No, he has been in Parliament according to William.”

  Then he is a coward and he is avoiding me. She was careful to keep her face expressionless. Or has already found another more accommodating woman.

  Tina was dressing Mia’s hair so that her back was to Elena but the mirror reflected Mia’s excitement.

  “Well, I am sorry for you that he will not be there,” Mia said with a careless shrug, “but I am so thrilled that I can hardly sit still. I have practiced both pieces that I will play until I can do them with my eyes closed and with someone humming another song to distract me.”

  Elena laughed and watched Tina dress the girl’s hair. “No more than one of the jeweled pins, Tina.” When Tina nodded Elena gave her attention to Mia again. “You are comfortable with the music I wrote for the song?”

  “Oh yes,” she said with disarming confidence. “The Beethoven is far more challenging and I am only accompanying you. My part hardly matters.”

  Tina pulled Mia’s ear. “More respect for the Signora, miss.”

  Mia squeaked and her smile disappeared.

  “Tina, thank you. Mia, I am well aware that I will never be Beethoven, but it was a challenge when I already had words and needed to find a melody that fit them and what I wanted to convey.”

  “It is beautiful, Elena,” Mia assured her, more sincere than dutiful. “But I do wish it was happier.”

  Mia and Tina both were facing the mirror and, at the same time, raised their eyes to look at Elena’s reflection there. They must know why she had written the song. There was no need to actually voice an explanation. So she changed the subject.

  “Will you be comfortable playing before so many, Mia?”

  “Oh yes.” Mia’s reply was easy. “And thank you, Elena, thank you so much. To have this small taste of society before Easter will make my first ball much more comfortable. What could be more perfect?”

  Elena could think of several ways to make the evening better, staying home being first on the list. She was so tired of pretending that she was enjoying herself, of pretending interest in the men who hovered, of pretending that she did not care if she ever saw Meryon again.

  32

  I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU were in Russell Square last week, Your Grace.”

  Meryon tried to recall the name of the man he was talking to. He was in Commons, that much he knew. “I was there quite by accident. I was bringing Signora Verano home after a ride in the park and I found I could be of some assistance to her.” God, that sounded supercilious.

  “Your Grace, what did you make of the incident?”

&
nbsp; The intensity with which the man waited for the answer signaled this was no idle question. Aha! Lord Halston. That was his name. The second son of the Duke of Hale, and, at least as important, married to one of The Gossips.

  “It was no incident of significance, Halston. Most of the people there were looking for some entertainment. For some that means a fistfight. I would estimate that no more than fifty of those present actually heard what was said.”

  “So you do not think it was a threat?”

  “Not at all. I think people’s right to speak and to express their thoughts in whatever context they choose can no longer be denied. They are not demanding change beyond asking us to listen to them. Not yet anyway.”

  The man looked shocked and Meryon smiled.

  “I think the greater threat are the unemployed and the hungry.”

  “Yes, well, the poor will always be with us, you know.”

  “Unless they starve to death.” Meryon had had enough of this pointless discussion and had taken a step away when Halston spoke again.

  “I am more concerned about the Duke of Bendas.”

  “As I have been since he collapsed in Lords years ago.”

  “Yes, my father reminded us of it the other day. It seems that may have affected his mind in some way. My father, the duke, says that Bendas has made some strange requests of late. He walked out on Signora Verano at the Regent’s dinner, and then my wife heard that Bendas asked the Signora to come sing for him.”

  “The man is unstable in mind and the trustees should act if his heirs do not.” Meryon was pleased that he sounded so reasonable.

  “Yes, that is exactly what my father said last night at our regular dinner together. My wife asked for details and even I was dismayed at Bendas’s behavior. The duel, Meryon. His behavior shocked us all. To shoot before the count of three.” Lord Halston shook his head, apparently unable to find words bad enough to convey his feelings.

  “I think the death of an innocent bystander was far more deplorable, and to use money to guarantee that there were no consequences is even worse.”

  “Yes, but death comes when God wills.”

  Meryon had had quite enough of Halston’s clichéd excuses. “Do tell your wife to spread the word, Halston. She is so effective at keeping the ton informed.”

  Meryon walked away, leaving Halston confused just as he intended, and headed for the salon where the entertainment would take place, hoping to meet Elena before they were surrounded by people.

  Moving to the front of the room, Meryon chose a chair on the side aisle and put his calling card on the seat. He was about to go up and examine the pianoforte, when Elena and Miss Castellano came through a nearby door. Lady Monksford was with them and Meryon paused to gauge Elena’s reaction.

  Elena spotted him immediately and froze.

  “Good evening, Your Grace,” Lady Monksford called out. “Please come and be introduced.”

  “We have met, thank you, Lady Monksford.” Meryon bowed to Elena, and then to her ward; he smiled at some spot between the two of them, annoyed by how tight his cravat felt. “What a pleasure to have a moment with you, signora. I am looking forward to hearing you play, Miss Castellano.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” The young woman curtsied. “I hope that you will not be disappointed.”

  “Impossible.” He tuned to Elena and could not think of a thing to say. She looked well enough, but an unfamiliar world-weariness shadowed her.

  Someone, Lady Monksford perhaps, cleared her throat, and Meryon looked at Elena and said the first civil thing that came into his head. “Have you decided what you will sing tonight?”

  He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. He wanted to make all the pain go away. Meryon hoped Elena could hear the unspoken words that his expression conveyed as much as hers did.

  “Yes, I have.” Her answer was brusque.

  Miss Castellano volunteered the next sally. “I was wondering if Mr. DeBora will bring the Verano violin this evening.”

  “I invited him to bring the violin with him but he told us he is not worthy to play it.” Lady Monksford spoke with enough disappointment for them to realize it was not what she wished.

  “Do you think he would allow someone else to play it?” Meryon risked a glance at Elena, again, and found he had her complete attention.

  “Do you play, Your Grace?” Lady Monksford asked.

  “No, my musical abilities are limited to the appreciation of music. But I imagine that Signora Verano plays. Perhaps I could prevail on Mr. DeBora to allow the Signora a few minutes with the violin, in private, of course.”

  Meryon could not think of a word to describe Elena’s reaction, other than “speechless.” Mia, however, never failed for words or enthusiasm.

  “How perfectly wonderful and generous of you, Your Grace. Elena would love it and so would I. To hold something so dear to Edward. Thank you, thank you so much.”

  “I do not know if he even brought it and I am not promising that he will agree,” Meryon cautioned.

  “Of course he will. You are a duke. He will agree, either because of your rank or because he is thrilled to be able to help you.”

  Lady Monksford laughed. It was the slightly embarrassed laugh common among those who did not know Mia well.

  “How can I thank you, Your Grace.” Elena’s words were not much more than a whisper.

  “Smile sometime tonight.” He bowed to her. “I will leave you to prepare for your performance.”

  Meryon walked out of the room without looking back and through the crowded antechamber. He spent the next hour talking with almost every person in the room, happy for the first time in days, if not months. It felt so totally and completely right to do something kind for no reason other than to make her happy. He did not expect a kiss or so much as a curtsy.

  Meryon’s conversation with DeBora lasted all of two minutes, without one moment of negotiation.

  “I am sorry to disappoint you, Your Grace, but I no longer own the Verano violin. I sold it to the Duke of Bendas yesterday.”

  “Tell me why you did that,” Meryon demanded.

  DeBora stepped back, flustered. “He—he wanted it and I sold it to him.”

  “He had no possible use for it. You should have asked Signora Verano if she wished to purchase it.”

  “Your Grace, I had no idea that the Signora could afford it.”

  “You fool, you should have given it to her. Do you not understand that it is one of the few true connections she has with her husband, who died playing it?” Meryon forced himself to relax his fist, more angry that he would have to disappoint Elena than at what DeBora had told him. DeBora answered to Bendas. Meryon knew that as well as he knew his name, but the old duke’s interest in the Verano violin was more difficult to tease out. It struck Meryon as odd and worth investigating.

  The bell sounded and the guests were invited into the ballroom for the music.

  Meryon followed the crowd. His palms were sweaty, his heart would not slow. He was not nervous for her this time. His anxiety was all his own.

  Of course he had to wait until the last to hear Elena. The violin, pianoforte, and voice were featured and Rosemary Monksford, who apparently had no musical talent, recited poetry at the breaks between performers.

  Rosemary had a pretty voice, and she recited with confidence and insight, overall a pleasure to listen to. How interesting that the girl had some actress in her, though he would never say that aloud. And how clever of Lady Monksford to find a way to showcase her daughter’s talent.

  Mia Castellano played the pianoforte with more skill than luck, her ability far outshining that of all the other young ladies her age. The force with which she played Beethoven was almost shocking, but like Elena she had perfected a smile that made it seem as though the passion was part of the performance as learned as the music.

  At last Lord Monksford came to the front of the room and announced that Signora Verano would sing with the accompaniment of Miss Cas
tellano. They would perform a traditional ballad for which the Signora had recently composed new music.

  The pianoforte introduction was long and lovely, the mood soul-searching. When Elena began to sing the audience had to strain to hear her, but it was not the words that were important so much as the sensibility she was conveying. As Meryon listened and watched Elena sing he realized that Elena Verano’s great talent was how she shared herself.

  As Elena’s voice grew stronger, Mia’s playing quieted and the words became clearer. They were the same lyrics she had sung as a ballad at the Regent’s dinner party, but what had been sung with humor then was filled with heartache now.

  Love left a heart in ruins if we did not respect its power.

  When she finished there was little doubt that she knew this from her own experience. Singing this piece appeared to have taken all her strength. She curtsied, lowering her head as if exhausted and when she straightened her smile was a weak imitation of happiness.

  He stood, ready to rush to the stage, thinking she was going to faint. The audience followed his move and rose to applaud with gusto until Signora Verano recaptured her good humor. She thanked them with a happier smile, then gestured to her ward, who stood and gave a small curtsy.

  Meryon sat back down, as drained as if he had given the performance. The room began to empty. Elena Verano was surrounded by well-wishers and Mia Castellano and some young man played at the pianoforte while Meryon realized that he knew now why he had avoided this meeting.

  To see her again reminded him of all that he had lost.

  Meryon watched her as she nodded her thanks and smiled at the compliments she received. He wanted that smile turned to him. Meryon could think of nothing else that would ease his cramped heart.

  She had offered that smile, more than once, and he had ignored it, abused it, and lost whatever chance he had. Now he had to tell her that he could not give her the only thing he had offered that she did want.

  When the crowd of well-wishers eased, he stepped forward. Elena saw that he waited and stepped away, her face composed but unsmiling.

  “I am so sorry, signora, but DeBora tells me he no longer owns the violin. He sold it to the Duke of Bendas.”