Hesitantly she approached the piano. He tugged her just a little closer to him before beginning to play.
Rosalyn felt a familiar exhilaration as their voices joined together in song. Nothing satisfied her as much as singing.
“Excellent!” Tony said when they finished. “Your voice floats on the air, light as a bird catching the summer breeze.”
“I think you are indulging in hyperbole,” she protested. Nevertheless, his compliment thrilled her.
He winked. “Shall we try another?”
As Nate and Mary pressed the doorbell of the boardinghouse, they could hear singing and piano music.
“We must be at the right place,” Mary said. “Do you suppose that’s Miss Bond singing?”
“No, that’s someone else.” By now, Nate was familiar with each voice among the leads.
“Well, whoever she is, she sings beautifully.”
“Yes.” Nate was impressed by the light, smooth soprano.
“Do you suppose it’s Miss Bernay? If so, Mr. Sullivan should hire her posthaste.”
Before Nate could respond, the door opened and a dowdy, grey-haired woman stood frowning at them. “Yes?”
“We are looking for Miss Rosalyn Bernay. I believe she is staying with Miss Bond, one of your tenants.”
The woman’s frown deepened. “She must have put a notice of her whereabouts in The Times.”
Nate shook his head. “I beg your pardon?”
The woman didn’t clarify. Instead, she opened the door wider to allow them inside. “The lady you are looking for is in the parlor with another guest.”
There was a tinge of disapproval in her words.
“Goodness, she’s just the perfect sort of creature who should make a living hosting other people,” Mary commented under her breath as they followed the landlady down the hall.
They reached the parlor doorway just in time to see Rosalyn singing the final note, which she rendered very sweetly.
She stood next to the piano, leaning in toward the man playing, her face flushed with joy and her eyes sparkling. Nate was astounded at how beautifully she sang. He would not have been surprised to learn she was a trained singer and that this was why she’d come to London. It would explain a lot about why she’d arrived alone and why she’d shown up later at the theater.
Nate’s happiness at seeing her quickly soured when he saw that her expression of delight was directed at none other than Tony Hayes. After the conversation Nate had overheard last night, he found it especially provoking that Hayes was gazing up at Rosalyn as though she were the most beautiful person in the world. She was indeed lovely, and her singing had been exquisite, but over the past few weeks, Nate had seen Hayes use that same expression on women with far less claim to it.
Rosalyn’s smile faded as soon as her gaze landed on Nate. She looked flustered. Was it merely surprise at seeing him, or was it irritation at having her singing party with Hayes interrupted? Nate couldn’t tell.
On the other hand, it was easy to see how Hayes felt. He stood up, a flash of anger crossing his face. He switched it to something resembling a smile as he smoothed his cravat and straightened the coat sleeves that he’d pushed back for ease of playing. “Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”
Nate’s sister was, as usual, completely oblivious to the subtle mood change in the room. She clapped enthusiastically. “Bravo! That was wonderful!”
This was primarily directed toward Rosalyn, who seemed taken aback by the praise. “Thank you. I—I wasn’t aware anyone else was listening.”
“Never apologize for commendation—especially when it’s well deserved,” Hayes said, patting Rosalyn’s hand in a way that Nate thought showed far too much familiarity. “Always sing as though thousands were listening. Perhaps someday they will be.” He extended a hand toward Nate. “Good afternoon, Moran.”
Despite his dislike of Hayes, Nate could not refuse a handshake. He prepared himself for any pain this gesture might bring to his wounded hand, but he needn’t have worried. Hayes’ grip was weak and perfunctory.
Hayes quickly turned his attention to Mary. “And who is this delightful creature, who has such an excellent ear for music?”
His flattering words raised all of Nate’s brotherly protective instincts. It didn’t help that Mary smiled back easily in response. He made stiff and cursory introductions. He knew Hayes had a pretentious surname, but he wasn’t about to use it.
“Enchanté,” Hayes said, shaking Mary’s hand in the same delicate manner he’d done with Nate.
“Very pleased to meet you,” Mary replied. She extended a hand to Rosalyn. “And you. I heard all about your terrible introduction to London! Certainly God blessed and protected you at a most difficult time.”
Hayes cleared his throat. “Yes, we can thank fate for bringing Rosalyn to our doorstep.”
It wasn’t an outright contradiction of Mary’s words, but to Nate it felt that way.
Mary said brightly, “Miss Bernay, we’ve come to ask you to join us for dinner this evening. Join our family, I mean. We are quite a large household—my mother, my sister, my brother Patrick and his wife, Hannah—and their adorable baby boy, Tommy—and, of course, Nate.”
Being tacked on at the end of that long description only increased Nate’s aggravation. Leave it to his sister to speak of him as an afterthought.
Hayes said, “So you would take her away before I’d had an opportunity to ask her to dinner myself?”
“Oh!” Rosalyn looked surprised and—Nate was perversely happy to note—wary. He was glad to know the actor’s wily attentions hadn’t peeled away all of her common sense.
“That hardly seems proper,” Nate pointed out. “You could not expect her to go out with you unaccompanied.”
“This is London,” Hayes replied acerbically, as though that simple fact nullified all rules of propriety. “And in any case, I assure you she’d be quite safe. Several other cast members from Pinafore will be there.”
Nate could see worry and embarrassment in Rosalyn’s face now that she was presented with two competing offers.
“I do thank you all, but I’m afraid I will have to decline both invitations. Jessie won’t be home for several hours, and I don’t want to leave without consulting her first. I am, after all, her guest.”
“Do you plan to stay with Jessie and continue on at the theater?” Nate asked. Now that he’d come, he wasn’t leaving until he at least garnered some facts about her future plans.
“Jessie has invited me to stay here until she leaves for America,” Rosalyn affirmed. “As for working at the theater, I hope I shall. I’m going to ask Miss Lenoir about it tomorrow.”
“That is great news!” Mary exclaimed.
Nate had to admit he was happy to hear this too, although he was less than enthused about the look of satisfaction that Rosalyn’s answer gave to Hayes.
“You will come and visit us sometime, won’t you?” Mary persisted. “Perhaps you would like to come to chapel with us? You would be most welcome there. And it’s a fine congregation for singing.”
Rosalyn’s smile was large and genuine. “Thank you very much. I would like that.”
Mary beamed at her response. “We will keep after you until you come.”
“The afternoon is wearing on,” Hayes said. “Perhaps we all ought to be going.”
He spoke brusquely. Nate figured he was irked at no longer being the center of Rosalyn’s attention.
When they had said their good-byes to Rosalyn and were back in the street, Hayes said, “Which way are you going?”
“South.”
“Ah, what a pity. I’d love to walk with you, but I am going north.” He tipped his hat. “Good afternoon.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
Mary took Nate’s arm as they began to walk in the opposite direction. It was all Nate could do not to look back.
“You don’t think that was just a ruse to get us to leave, do you?” Mary said. “That Mr. Hayes seems to have developed a bi
t of a tendresse for Miss Bernay.”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” Nate admitted. Perhaps Mary wasn’t as oblivious to these things as he’d thought, and he felt a stab of concern at her mention of a tendresse. She was only seventeen! Surely that was too young to know about such things.
“I’m not worried,” Mary declared. “Rosalyn said she would not leave while Miss Bond was away. Even if Mr. Hayes should return, she will turn him down.”
Nate wished he had the same confidence. It bothered him that Hayes was turning his oily charm on Rosalyn—and that she seemed to be enjoying it. Worry over this—and a vague annoyance at himself for caring so much about it—occupied his thoughts so completely that he heard not a word of his sister’s animated chatter as they walked home.
CHAPTER
10
ROSALYN MUST HAVE been only half asleep, for she heard the door open and gently close again. She raised her head and peered over the back of the sofa. In the moonlight she could make out Jessie as she removed her shawl and tossed it over a chair.
“What time is it?” Rosalyn asked groggily.
“Past two. The soiree went longer than I anticipated. Thankfully, His Highness insisted on paying for the cab home.”
“His Highness!” Rosalyn repeated in surprise. She was alert now.
“Oh, dear, I’ve let the cat out of the bag!” Jessie giggled, plopping into the chair. “I was at Mr. Sullivan’s home, but the Duke of Edinburgh was there. He is such an admirer of Mr. Sullivan’s work. But you mustn’t tell anyone. It might lead to some resentment among the other cast members that I’ve been singled out. Not to mention that there is such a lot of bother these days about people having fun on Sundays. His Highness needs to preserve his reputation—even if he is only second in line to the throne.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Rosalyn assured her, but she was awed to know someone who could rub shoulders with royalty.
A knock, loud and harsh, sounded at the door, causing Rosalyn to nearly jump off the sofa.
Jessie merely frowned and said, “Oh, dear. That’s the knock she usually reserves for people who are behind on their rent.” Seeing Rosalyn’s worried expression, she added, “Don’t worry. I’m paid up through the end of the month. She owes me a day, if we’re honest; I found out after I’d paid that our ship sails on October thirtieth instead of the thirty-first.”
The knock sounded again, louder and more insistent. Jessie gave an exaggerated sigh, rose from the chair, and went to the door. Pulling the blanket around her, Rosalyn stood, too. A stab of dread went through her as she considered the possibility that Mrs. Kramer had found out about Rosalyn’s history and thought she was a thief—or worse.
Mrs. Kramer looked even sterner than usual, if that were possible. “A word with you please, Miss Bond.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow? The hour is quite late.”
“No, I have been waiting up specifically, and I am quite aware of the hour.” Her withering glance showed exactly what she thought of Jessie’s late arrival. She strode into the room and raised an accusing finger toward Rosalyn. “Who is this woman?”
“This is Miss Bernay.”
Mrs. Kramer took in Rosalyn’s disheveled appearance, and the blanket and pillows that were clear evidence of where she was sleeping. At least she can see there are no men here, Rosalyn thought.
“And where do you know her from?”
“She’s a friend of mine from Wiltshire. She’s only here for a few days.”
“So she says.”
“Why would you doubt her?”
“I have no basis to doubt—or to trust. I don’t know her. But I do know that she has no references. And she has already entertained two male guests this evening.”
Jessie turned a surprised—and somewhat amused—look toward Rosalyn.
“I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet,” Rosalyn said. “And to be fair, one of the gentlemen came with his sister.”
“She said she was his sister.” Apparently Mrs. Kramer didn’t trust anyone about anything.
Jessie blew out a breath in exasperation. “Mrs. Kramer, you know I am leaving at the end of the month. Surely there can be no harm in Miss Bernay staying with me until that time?”
“Out of the question.”
“But—”
“I’ll give you a day or two, but then she must be gone.”
“But I am the best boarder you have. I’ve never caused you trouble, and I always pay my rent on time.”
“I don’t like actresses. I made an exception for you, because you are in a respectable production and you are, as you have noted, well behaved.” She sounded like a mother judging a child. “But I simply cannot allow this place to be given over to members of the theatrical profession. And she has no references. What is she hiding?”
“Don’t you think you are blowing things a bit out of proportion?” Jessie asked. But her appeal to Mrs. Kramer’s basic good sense had no effect.
For Rosalyn, it was galling to be treated with such suspicion and to face the prospect of being homeless yet again. But if she was going to end up on the street, she’d rather walk out than be pushed out.
“This works out just fine,” she broke in. “Jessie, I already told you I’m leaving soon to visit my sister in Bristol.”
She spoke earnestly, her expression silently appealing to Jessie to let the matter drop.
She could see Jessie’s natural spunk and pride warring to continue this fight, but she must have decided further argument was futile. She said resignedly, “So you did.”
Seeing she had won her point, Mrs. Kramer stalked to the door and opened it. “Just remember, I’ll be watching you closely in the meantime.”
There was a moment of silence after she was gone. Rosalyn expected Jessie to express regret at having taken Rosalyn in. Instead, she grinned. “And here I thought I had the more interesting evening.” She put her hands on her hips. “What have you been up to? And who were these two gentlemen?”
“Tony Hayes and Nate Moran.”
Jessie drew her head back in surprise. “That seems an unlikely pair.”
“They didn’t come together. Tony was here first, and then Nate came, accompanied by his sister.”
“So he brought his sister!” Jessie’s face lit up in amusement. “Because that is more proper than coming to visit a young lady alone. It seems our dangerous warrior is also quite the gentleman.” Settling once more into her chair, she said, “I think you had better tell me all about it.”
After Rosalyn filled her in, Jessie said, “I’m sorry Mrs. Kramer is determined to be unreasonable about your staying here. But you can’t really be serious about going to Bristol? Not after what we discussed this afternoon?”
Rosalyn pulled the blanket tighter around her as she sank deeper into the sofa. “I don’t know what to do, to be honest.”
“Stay in London,” Jessie urged. “We need you at the theater, and I’m sure something will work out with your lodgings. After all, didn’t you say you were raised to believe that God would always supply your need?”
It seemed odd to have Jessie state her words back to her. But it was a good reminder. Perhaps, Rosalyn reflected, the need was met already. She could ask Nate once more about the charity home.
Surprisingly, Jessie added, “Of course, if you stay, you will have your hands full, what with two men pursuing you.”
“Surely neither of them thinks of me in that way,” Rosalyn protested.
Jessie gave her a knowing look. “Just remember my advice about being careful around men.”
Still not believing she could be the focus of two men’s fancy, Rosalyn simply nodded. “I will.”
“You can’t keep avoiding Ada forever, you know. Sooner or later you have to make your peace.”
Nate lifted his head over the withers of the horse he was grooming in order to scowl at his brother through the open door of the stall. “I have made my peace. We are all agreed that she is much happier as th
e wife of a prosperous draper than she would ever have been as a lowly sergeant’s wife.”
“So it’s your vanity that’s smarting. I knew as much.”
Nate didn’t answer but went back to brushing the mare with a vengeance.
“I had thought you a better man than that,” Patrick continued. “It seems you don’t mind hurting her in return.”
Nate threw the brush into a nearby bucket and turned full force toward his brother. “Let me remind you of a few things. Ada broke our engagement and married another man—without even having the decency to tell me first. She left me hanging for months and finally wrote to me long after the fact. Explain to me again just how I am hurting her?”
Patrick was forced to take a step back as Nate led the horse from the stall, but he remained unrattled by Nate’s attempt to cut short the conversation. “Nevertheless, the way you cut her in church yesterday was uncalled for.”
Nate gritted his teeth. “All I did was tell her quite honestly that I was unable to accept her offer to dinner.”
“You’re fooling yourself if you truly think that’s all you did,” Patrick contradicted, stumping along with his crutch as Nate led the horse into the stable yard. “Perhaps you would not harbor such bad feelings if you allowed her to tell you her side of the story. There’s more to it than you realize.”
“Oh, I agree there’s more to it,” Nate shot back.
“I knew there was something you’re not telling us,” Patrick replied with an air of triumph. “What is it?”
Nate set about hitching the mare to a waiting hansom cab. The driver stood nearby, well within earshot, and Nate did not care to have his personal business aired in front of strangers. He hissed to his brother, “I don’t want to discuss this right now.”
“The trouble is, you won’t discuss it at home, either. That’s why I’m here. You should be ashamed that your brother had to haul himself all the way over here with his leg in a splint.”
Nate did not answer, merely going back to getting the mare into harness. Patrick leaned against a feed barrel. With the weight off his injured leg, he seemed content to wait until Nate finished his task.
The Captain's Daughter (London Beginnings Book #1) Page 13