A Dashing Duke for Emily

by Hanna Hamilton

  Mark stood and went over to her. “There might be a way. Silas is more knowledgeable than I am about UK bookings. Perhaps there might be some slots open, or there may be cancellations which come up. I shall speak to him about that.”

  “That could actually be useful,” Emily said, the worry lifting from her face. “It would allow me to get some experience as a solo performer before I am thrust upon the European circuit a year from now.”

  Mark took her hand and looked at her with a smile. “Fear not, Emily, and take some time to enjoy what you are about to enter into.”

  She returned his smile, happy to have her hand in his. “Yes, I shall try to do that. And other than preparing my performances, what else do you need from me?” she asked with still some hesitation.

  “Do you have travel documents?”

  “I do not.”

  “Then you must obtain those. And I can help you with that, if you like. I have friends in the Foreign Office who can advise me.”

  “Yes, I would appreciate that.” Emily impulsively reached over and took Mark’s arm. “Oh, Mark, this is both exciting and frightening at the same time. I have been so used to my little family trio and the security of home and family, and now everything is about to change.”

  Mark laughed. “Indeed it shall. And I know it is what you want. Of course, there will be fears and apprehensions, but once you begin to practice and, as the tour looms, you will become excited and be ready to jump right into it.

  Emily became thoughtful. She felt a range of emotions surging through her, not the least of which was gratitude for the warmth and comfort that Mark provided her. How many men had she ever met who were as supportive and steady as he was? And not to forget—handsome.

  Then she pulled herself together from her lapse into self-doubting and said, “Then let me jump into it right now. What is next and how can I help?”

  “I think I will firstly meet with Monsieur Bellieu and then we can see what he has to offer and go from there. Leave everything to me for the moment and I shall contact you when there is anything to report.”

  “And for my part I shall send you my proposed program of compositions and begin to work on them in earnest.”

  “I am sure whoever finally organizes the tour will want to give input as to your repertoire, but there will be plenty of time to make adjustments before any tour gets underway.”

  “Thank you, Mark. Truly. And now I think I must get home to my family. They have gone through a lot today, and I should like to be there for them.”

  “Of course, and my carriage will take you home.”

  “Will you be coming with me?”

  “No, I wish to spend some time with Alice. We shall have tea and plan a meeting with Andre.”

  “Then, good day, dear friend,” she said.

  Chapter 15

  Even though Emily had made an engagement with Linton to go to dinner at a café, she had no idea what to wear. A café? Most likely it would be an informal place, but one never knew. Or was it a more upscale establishment? He had not given her the name or any hint as to what kind of place it was. Hopefully, it was not in some God forsaken area of London with no proper street lighting as they would most likely be taking public transportation.

  Teresa had been hovering all day, having been told of Emily’s dinner outing with Linton. It was so clear that poor Teresa was smitten by the young fellow, but he evidenced no interest in her other than as a fellow musician. That had given Emily thought. Perhaps she should take her sister in hand and see if she might sharpen her up somewhat. Teresa had unruly, dowdy hair and, with her owlish spectacles, she looked to be perpetually squinting at one as if she was about to ask you a profound question. And it would not hurt if she learned to apply a little rouge to her cheeks and lips. Their mother offered no help, so it appeared to be Emily’s lot to help her, as Ruth did not care one jot about Teresa’s looks.

  But that project would need to wait, as it was Emily’s present task to get ready to go out with Linton this evening. As she swept through her wardrobe, she finally found a dress that was casual enough for a café, but formal enough for dinner if the establishment was more upscale.

  Once she was dressed and her hair prepared, she was ready and went down to the sitting room to await Linton’s arrival.

  He showed up promptly and surprised her by having a hansom cab waiting at the curb.

  “What kind of music do they play where we are going?” Emily asked, as she settled back into the cab’s seat.

  “It is mostly contemporary popular music. It features up and coming new singers and musicians. I hope you do not find the music to be beneath your standards,” he said as he gave her a playful poke.

  “Not at all, I love all music. In fact, I have a particular affection for British folk music. I like the old songs and dances. And think of how many classical composers looked to their local popular and folk music for inspiration in their compositions.”

  “I thought you might say that.”

  “Obviously you like that music too, or you would not be taking me to this café?”

  “I do.” He gave her a slight smile, and before too long they had arrived. The café was in the West End and not at some remote corner of the city. In fact, it was a very attractive little establishment and the tables even had tablecloths.

  “I think you will like the food here, it is really quite marvelous. It is prepared by a family—including the grandmother, mother, father, and a daughter and a son. They take great pride in their preparations.”

  Once seated at a corner table, they were presented with menus.

  “It does indeed look promising,” Emily commented. “Is there anything you particularly recommend?”

  “It is all good, but I do love their stews. They go to great pains to cook them long and slow. The flavors meld and blend to create a succulent delight.”

  “My, you seem to know a lot about cooking.”

  “If I were not a musician, I would have been a chef.”

  “Now that is a surprise,” Emily said.

  “And why is that?”

  “The two professions seem so remote from one another.”

  “Not at all. Flavors are like notes and can be played like an orchestra to create harmony or dissonance.”

  Emily laughed. “Oh, my, I do like the way you think.”

  “And I like everything about you,” Linton said with a large grin.

  Emily blushed slightly as the waiter came over to take their orders.

  And, while they were waiting, the first musicians took to the small stage and began to play. It was a merry group of two men and two women. They played fiddles, an accordion, and a guitar. The songs bordered on the bawdy and now it was Linton’s turn to blush.

  “Oh, my, I had no idea there would be that type of music this evening.”

  Emily was vigorously tapping her foot and waved her hand, dismissing his worry.

  The food was, indeed, delicious and after they had consumed a delicious sweet, Linton called the waiter over and whispered something to him.

  The waiter nodded and went to speak to the proprietor, who nodded and went up to the stage and waited for the current act to finish. And then he announced, “Ladies and Gentlemen, our next act is for solo piano. And let me hear your warm welcome for Mister Linton Hawthorn.”

  Emily was surprised as Linton stood up and walked up to the stage.

  “Thank you, and now I am going to perform a few dances, so if any of you folks wish to take a turn on the floor, please feel free. I have the owner’s permission—so enjoy yourselves.”

  He began to play and soon a number of couples began to dance to his lively waltzes.

  He played for about fifteen minutes nonstop when he turned to the audience and said, “And now I would like to introduce a fellow musician, who I am inviting to come up here and play a few numbers with me. Ladies and Gentlemen, Emily Dunn, who will soon be touring Europe performing in major capitals.”

  Emily was
not just surprised, she was shocked. But he waved for her to come up, and as the applause encouraged her, she stood and went to sit beside Linton at the piano.

  “Oh, Linton,” she said, “What are we to play? We have rehearsed nothing together.”

  “Just follow me. It will be fun.”

  He began to play a sprightly little melody that she did not know, but she was able to play bass chords that harmonized with his improvisation. She found it to be a lot of fun. And when they were finished, after another fifteen minutes, they ended up to a rousing applause.

  They took their bows and returned to their table. They were both laughing heartily as they sat down.

  “That was fun,” Emily said and meant it.

  “I hoped you might enjoy it. Sorry, I did not alert you to what I had planned, but I wanted it to be a surprise,” he said as he reached across the table and took her hand.

  The proprietor, a large hulking man, came over to their table and addressed Emily. “You are wonderful. Are you going to play that music when you tour?” he asked.

  “No, I am a classical pianist.”

  “Too bad. I like very much what you played. Maybe you do some in your concerts, no?”

  “Emily laughed. “But I will not have my very capable partner touring with me. I do not think it would be possible.”

  The proprietor waved his hand. “If you not like your tour, you both come back here and play for me. You will always be welcome.”

  Mark was running late for his meeting with Andre at his sister’s. His father had taken a turn for the worse overnight and he had been delayed leaving Linfield Hall after having to wait for the doctor.

  But now, he was almost at the Savoy home. He was surprised to find that he was a little nervous. And why would that be? This was for and about Emily, not him. Yet he found the palms of his hands were moist. He realized that he had invested a lot of his interest in this fine woman and now might well be a moment of truth for her—and for him.

  His sister welcomed him inside and led him to her study where he found, whom he assumed to be, Andre Bellieu.

  “Monsieur Bellieu, je présume, bonjour, et bienvenue,” Mark greeted the seated man who had stood when he entered.

  “Your Grace, no need for French. I was raised in a bilingual family. My mother is British—from Sheffield.”

  “Ah, excellent.”

  Alice had them both sit and ordered tea. “Fresh out of croissants, I am afraid,” she said with a chuckle. “However, my cook does do a lovely cream tart that might interest you.”

  “Madame,” he said patting his stomach. “I am afraid I tend to gain weight—inherited from my father, alas—so I must decline any sweets, but tea sounds perfect.”

  Monsieur Bellieu was a short man, with a receding hairline, delicate features and a quick and attentive gaze. He had a habit of twisting the ends of his thin mustache when he became excited.

  “It is a great honor to meet you, Andre… I may call you Andre, may I not?”

  “Of course.”

  “And I am Mark. I am so grateful Alice has brought us together. Did she tell you what my interest is in meeting you?”

  “Yes, it seems you have a protégé whom you wish to promote.”

  “Exactly. A most charming young lady by the name of Emily Dunn.”

  “Ah, yes… I have heard of her. But I believe she is part of a trio, is that not so?”

  “Recently separated from them and looking for a solo career.”

  “I see. And is she signed with any management?”

  “Her maestro has been managing the trio, but that is not his focus. He has no connections to the continent and I am looking to launch the young lady for a solo European tour. And that is where you come in. Is that something that might interest you?”

  Alice cut in, “She is really quite remarkable. And I say this with no personal interest in her career other than I believe she is a rare jewel—suitable as the centerpiece for any crown.”

  Andre assumed a sly look, “If she is as lovely as you are Mrs. Savoy, she shall be a treat indeed.”

  Alice was immune to his Gallic charms, and replied, “Ah, I am but a cloudy amethyst compared to her bright and flawless diamond brilliance.”

  “I see. And when might I meet this flawless diamond?”

  “Whenever you are available. She resides in London, not far from here, and we can set up a meeting at your convenience,” Mark said.

  “I would need to hear her play. However charming and dazzling, the proof is in the playing.”

  “We expect that.”

  “And her repertoire? Is it sufficient for a solo tour?”

  “I have recently received a list of her performance pieces and they are extensive. She is also familiar with many of the classic solo parts in often-performed concertos and lesser works. I can provide you with a list which I have had copied and brought with me.” He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew an envelope.

  “Might I see?” Andre asked.

  Mark handed him the list which Andre then studied.

  “Yes, most impressive. A sound basis for a tour. And is she a quick study? I am often asked for an artist to perform certain pieces by those booking the artist, and they expect to have their wishes honored.”

  “I am not as familiar with that aspect of her process; however, when you meet her, you may quiz her yourself. And I warn you, she is immensely charming, quick-witted, and I know you will be impressed.”

  The serving girl brought in the tea and the conversation was interrupted for a few moments while the tea was served.

  As the conversation had halted Andre pulled out a notebook, consulted it and added, “Today is Tuesday. I can be available to meet her on Thursday or Friday. Is this a good venue to hear her play?”

  “Most certainly, and we have a very fine piano, which is kept constantly tuned.”

  “Excellent. Then shall we say Thursday? And in case I need others to see her, could we also make Friday available as a backup?” He turned to Alice. “If that meets with your approval? I do not wish to monopolize your home or time.”

  “I am delighted to be able to help my dear friend in any way I can. The salon is for your use.”

  “Excellent.”

  Chapter 16

  Emily was in the family washroom brushing Teresa’s hair, which was filled with snags.

  “Ouch,” Teresa cried out. “That hurts.”

  “Do you ever brush your hair? It is like a rat’s nest.”

  “It takes too much time.”

  “And it very badly needs a washing. Honestly, Teresa, you are a mess. However do you hope to attract a young man looking as you do?”

  “I only want to attract a certain young man,” she said looking up at Emily with a pleading look.

  “Dear sister, it is not a good idea to have a romantic attachment to someone you are working with.”

  “And why would that be?” she asked, as her head was pulled to the side by Emily vigorously pulling on the brush.

  “Because it can cause problems.”

  “What sort of problems?” Teresa insisted.

  Emily sighed. “It can cause complications. Any romance has its ups and downs and you do not want to bring that dynamic into your work. And most especially in music where you have to work smoothly together and there has to be a free and easy give and take. A romance between colleagues can become as tangled a mess as this crop of hair you have grown.”

  “But I want him to at least like me,” she pleaded.

  There was a knock at the washroom door.

  “Emily? Are you in there?” It was their mother.

  “Yes, mother. What is it? I am busy with Teresa just now trying to make her into a fairly presentable human being.”

  “The Duke of Edgerton is here to see you. He says it is about some sort of audition or other. Can you come down now? I offered him tea, but he has refused it.”

  “Very well. Tell him I will be with him shortly.”

&nbs
p; Emily found her pulse quickening and a warm glow infusing her body at the thought of seeing the Duke again. Emily stopped brushing and put the brush down on the wash table.