“Miss Lovell.” The man bowed. “Peter Widmere at your service.”
“Thank you for your visit, Mr. Widmere,” she said. “Do come in and take a seat.”
“Will you need anything else, miss?” the butler asked, one brow faintly raised.
She looked at him a moment, then caught his meaning. It was a breach of the proprieties for her to receive Mr. Widmere in the back drawing room, alone.
“Send Betts in with tea,” she said. That ought to satisfy, although teatime had already passed.
The butler made her a very correct bow, and departed once again. Jessa went to the grouping of chairs near the hearth and settled into a blue-upholstered chair. As soon as she was seated, Mr. Widmere joined her.
“I see you’ve had a change in situation since we last met,” he said, glancing around the richly decorated room. “I understand at the time you were living with your uncle?”
“Yes.” She did not elaborate. “It’s very kind of you to call upon me, when we are barely acquainted.”
Indeed, it had been rather forward of her to send a note. And not quite the thing for him to pay a visit in person. Then again, neither of them was constrained by the strictures of the ton. No matter how much Lady Agatha seemed to cherish notions to the contrary where Jessa and Louisa were concerned.
Mr. Widmere nodded. “It is a bit irregular, perhaps, but then I believe we are both in service to the music, Miss Lovell.”
“As to that.” She leaned forward, hope thumping in her chest. “Are you, perchance, taking on new clients?”
“I wasn’t planning to.” He gave her a speculative look. “It depends on the musician.”
“Might you… consider the possibility of becoming my agent, and booking performances on the Continent?”
“Hmm.” He leaned back and studied her. “I might contemplate it. Are you at liberty to make such arrangements, Miss Lovell?”
“My elder cousin, Viscount Trenton, has assumed guardianship of myself and my sister. I will write to him today to discuss the matter, and the fact of my musical aspirations.”
She spoke with confidence, though she’d no idea if her distant relative would truly consent. But Lady Agatha had already given her approval, and she was acting on the viscount’s behalf.
“As to that...” Mr. Widmere steepled his fingers together and cleared his throat. “Do you understand that, should you embark upon a performance career, you will not always be viewed in the most, er, genteel light? Especially given your style of music.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. Mr. Widmere was implying that some people would consider her a loose woman. Not that it was any change from how the Viscount Crantons of the world already saw her.
“I am aware of it, yes.”
“Well then.” Mr. Widmere returned to his brisk, businesslike demeanor. “I must say that, should you begin by appearing on the bill with the Reynard family, it will mitigate such assumptions. They are very well regarded.”
“Of course.” Her pulse sped at the thought of sharing the stage with the celebrated master violinist. “Do you think I am accomplished enough not to disappoint Master Reynard’s audiences?”
Mr. Widmere studied her a long moment. “From what I heard of your playing before, I think listeners will enjoy your performances. But I see your violin is just there. Would you play something for me?”
“Certainly.” She rose, nerves fluttering like cloth in the wind.
The colorful scarf brushed her fingers as she took her instrument from the case, and the feeling steadied her. She had a wealth of melodies to share with the world. And she would begin with one of her favorites—a lullaby her father used to sing to her in his deep, husky voice.
She strode to the center of the room, and Mr. Widmere turned his chair to face her. Taking a breath, she relaxed her bow arm, and began. Low and warm and comforting, the simple melody filled the air. Slowly, she began to embellish it, adding a bright spark of memory here, the fall of a teardrop there.
Betts, the maid, came to the door with the tea tray, then hesitated, listening. Jessa nodded to her to come in, then, without missing a beat, launched into a dance tune. It was a new arrangement she had been working on, where she played chords beneath the melody in a demanding interplay between solo and accompaniment, while bouncing the bow back and forth for percussive energy.
She missed one or two of the fingerings, but Mr. Widmere still tapped his foot. The maid swayed in time near the small table where she’d set the tea tray. Smiling, Jessa played the last phrase, ending with a triumphant pull of the bow across all four strings.
“Bravo, miss!” Betts cried, applauding.
Jessa made her a bow. “Thank you for listening.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t have—there’s that much to be done. But I couldn’t help it. Enjoy your tea.” She bobbed a curtsy and hurried out of the room.
Jessa turned to Mr. Widmere, sure that he could see the question in her eyes.
“Excellent,” he said. “The Continent will adore you.”
“I’m so glad you think so.”
Hope flared through her. Perhaps the future she had imagined for herself was not so impossibly far away. She put her violin away, then joined Mr. Widmere and poured out the tea.
He took a sip from his cup, then briskly set it aside. “So, Miss Lovell, to the details. I go to rejoin Master Reynard’s tour shortly. We’ll return from the Continent in five weeks, and then you and I can draw up the contracts.”
“Oh.” She laced her fingers together in her lap. “I was hoping for sooner.”
He gave her a piercing look. “Is there something I ought to know, before taking you on as a client?”
Jessa picked up her teacup and took a hasty swallow. She could hardly reveal that she was hopelessly in love with the Earl of Silverton. Who was poised to marry another woman.
“No,” she said. “I am eager to embark on this next stage of my career.”
“I must discuss it with Dare and his wife, before making you any promises. And he will likely want to hear you play for himself.”
A lump stuck in her throat at the thought of auditioning for the most preeminent violinist in the world, but she nodded. “I understand.”
“I am not trying to dissuade you,” Mr. Widmere said. “From what I’ve heard, Dare will entirely approve your playing. The chances that you’ll begin touring soon are excellent.”
Jessa uncurled her fingers from where they had tightened into anxious fists.
“When do you depart London?” she asked.
“Thursday. I’ll rejoin Dare in Paris, and then the tour continues into Spain. They’ve been through Austria and Prussia, during this first leg.” He rose. “Indeed, I must take my leave of you, Miss Lovell. Already I am behind in my preparations.”
She hastily stood. “Then I am even more in your debt for taking the time to call upon me today.”
“Look for my correspondence soon, after I speak with Dare—though I expect it will be good news.” He made her a bow. “Good day, Miss Lovell.”
“Safe travels, sir.” She dipped him a quick curtsy.
After he departed the drawing room, Jessa sat again, her mind whirling. It seemed almost too easy. And yet the fruition of her dreams was not yet within her grasp. Master Reynard might decline to put her on his performance bill, and Mr. Widmere might decide he’d erred in his assessment of her talent or musical appeal.
She brought a knuckle to her lips, then let out her breath against it. Well, there was little she could do, except wait. And practice.
Rising, Jessa drank back the remainder of her lukewarm tea, then took up her violin once more.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Morgan’s butler met him at the door when he returned that afternoon to Trevethwick House. The man’s expression was a shade more dour than usual, and Morgan gave him a curious look.
“Is anything the matter?”
“My lord,” the butler said, taking his hat and overcoat. “I must inform y
ou that Miss Jessamyn received a gentleman caller earlier today.”
Possessive anger swept through Morgan like a sudden squall full of thunder and dark clouds. With effort, he kept his voice steady.
“Who was this man?”
“A Mr. Peter Widmere. He and Miss Jessamyn met for over half an hour in the back drawing room. I heard her playing her violin for him.”
Morgan’s hands twitched with the need to hit something. “And where might I currently find Miss Jessamyn?”
“I believe she and Miss Louisa are in your aunt’s suite.”
“Thank you.” Morgan strode to the stairs, then took them two at a time, questions hammering through him.
Breathing a bit heavily, he rapped on the door of Aunt Agatha’s parlor, then swung it open. A riot of color and the reek of sandalwood assaulted his senses.
“Who is it? Oh—Morgan.” His aunt beckoned to him from the settee, where she reclined among a pile of exotic cushions. “Come in.”
He did, his gaze going to where Jessamyn sat across from his aunt. She smiled when she saw him, but her expression faltered as he stared at her.
“It’s Lord Silver,” Louisa said. “I am looking at pictures of monkeys.”
She held up a book filled with bright illustrations. He broke off glaring at Jessamyn to give her sister a brief nod.
“Very nice.”
He quickly returned his attention to Jessa, trying to determine whether her lips appeared any redder. Had the fellow kissed her?
“Goodness, Morgan,” Aunt Agatha said. “What has possessed you? Such a fierce look you have.”
“I would like to speak with Jessamyn. Alone.”
Jessamyn began to rise, but his aunt took her arm and drew her back down again.
“Whatever you need to say, you may do so in my company,” Aunt Agatha said. “Or it can wait until we have finished our game.”
Belatedly, Morgan noticed the jade and marble chessboard on the table between the two ladies. He strode over and picked up one of the discarded pawns. It was carved wearing an ornate costume, but at least there was nothing lewd about it. To be sure, he glanced at the board, but all the pieces appeared decently clothed.
“Miss Lovell, I understand you had a visitor today.” He set the pawn back on the table with too much force, and it clacked loudly.
“Take care,” his aunt said, giving him a warning look.
Jessamyn looked up at him. “Yes, Mr. Peter Widmere came to call upon me.”
“And you met with him, unchaperoned, in the drawing room.” He did not care that his words were sharp.
Jessamyn furrowed her brow. Then the confusion in her eyes cleared, anger taking its place.
“Do you truly think I would entertain a lover beneath your roof? Is that what you are accusing me of, my lord?”
“Morgan!” Aunt Agatha frowned at him. “How could you suggest such a thing?”
His righteous wrath faltered, but he turned to Jessamyn once more. “You played your violin for him.”
“I did. Since he is the agent for the most renowned violinist in the world, he wanted to hear me play before he decided whether he might take me on as a client.”
Her unexpected answer cooled his anger somewhat. “An agent?”
“Morgan, do sit down,” his aunt said. “You look a trifle unwell. Yes, take that chair.”
He tossed away a brilliant orange pillow decorated with tiny mirrors, and sank into the chair. Perhaps he had come to an overly rash conclusion.
Damnation. The longer Jessamyn stayed beneath his roof, the more muddled his thinking became. He longed for the days when the proper course of action lay straight and clear before him. It might have been stultifyingly boring at times, but at least he had known precisely what to do for every occasion.
“Explain,” he said.
“I was not expecting him to visit,” Jessamyn said. “But I wrote Mr. Widmere last week, asking if he might be willing to represent my musical career.”
“Jessamyn is considering touring on the Continent,” his aunt added.
“Why was I not informed?” He suspected he sounded peevish—but as the earl, he was accustomed to knowing, and controlling, everything that occurred within his domain.
“It only just transpired,” Jessamyn said. “Though… I have been thinking of this for some time.”
“You can’t leave.”
Aunt Agatha raised an eyebrow at him. “If Jessamyn desires to perform abroad, why would you stop her?”
He had no answer for that. Only a roaring in his soul that would not cease.
“Very well.” He stood. The smell of sandalwood was driving him mad. “Have a pleasant afternoon, ladies. I shall see you at supper.”
***
“Be careful,” Louisa said, as Jessa brushed her sister’s hair before bed.
“Careful of what, duckling?”
Louisa turned to face Jessa, her expression earnest.
“When you go tonight to see the Silver Lord. I am glad he did not devour you yesterday.”
Jessa regarded her sister. “Whatever are you talking about?”
She tried to keep her voice neutral, but worry fluttered through her. How much had Louisa guessed? And had she even understood what it meant when she caught Jessa and Morgan in the hallway? She had not mentioned it until now.
“You will go see him tonight, won’t you?” Louisa’s question was perfectly innocent.
“Why would I do such a thing?” Jessa asked cautiously.
Certainly, she had thought of it. Aside from her meeting with Mr. Widmere, she had thought of little else all day. In truth, her conversation with the agent had helped crystallize her decision.
She had no reason to doubt Mr. Widmere’s assertion that a touring female violinist would be regarded as a fallen woman. Indeed, her small fame in London had garnered plenty of speculation, even before she had fled Mr. Burke’s house to shelter beneath Morgan’s roof.
If, maiden or not, people would think the worst of her, then she was determined to make a choice. And that was to lose her innocence in the arms of the man she loved.
It would change her forever. Though her heart might break from it, at least she would have that much, for as long as she possibly could.
But what of Lady Anne? her treacherous conscience whispered.
Jessa firmly shut the door on that voice.
“You must finish the quest,” Louisa said. “I know you tried to last night, but I was so thirsty.”
Jessa began braiding her sister’s hair, avoiding her direct gaze. “And what does finishing the quest entail?”
“I believe the Silver Lord still sometimes transforms into a beast at night,” Louisa said, her voice low and thoughtful. “You have to help him, and then he will give you the final talisman.”
It was such an innocent notion, but then, Louisa had always made up fables to explain the things around her that she did not understand. Even though the future was not one of castles and princesses and true love, Louisa still clung to her fairytales.
“Don’t you think everything is coming out well enough?” Jessa asked. “You are Lady Agatha’s companion, and will have many fine adventures with her. And I will go play my violin in all the courts of Europe.”
Louisa shook her head, causing a lock of dark hair to slip free of her braid. “It is not the right ending.”
“Ah, duckling. It is the best ending we will have. Be happy for it.” Jessa tucked the loose strand of hair back in, then tied off the end of Louisa’s braid.
“Promise me you will go visit him.” Louisa turned and took her hand. “I will stay quiet and in bed all night, and will not spill the water this time.”
“I am not certain he will be pleased to see me.”
Indeed, his manner toward her that afternoon, and through supper, had been laced with irritation. Half of her wanted to respond in kind, but the rest of her still yearned for his kisses.
“You must try,” Louisa said with a decisive nod.
“And that is settled.”
Jessa smiled and dropped a kiss on her sister’s cheek. Louisa’s insistence was enough to tip her over the edge. An edge she would likely have fallen off, in any case—but this way she need not fret that Louisa might wake in the night and come in search of her.
“Very well, duckling. But I must wait a while longer.”
“Tell me a story, then,” Louisa said, hopping into bed. “The golden apples, please.”
Jessa drew up a chair, trying to keep her nerves from shivering like leaves in a strong wind. Tonight, soon, she would go to Morgan’s bedroom. She prayed that this time he would not turn her away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
An hour later, Louisa’s deep breaths filled the room. Jessa watched her sister sleep for a moment, the merry eyes now closed, the smiles smoothed from Louisa’s face. The single candle on its holder beside the bed swayed in a draft, and from outside the window Jessa heard the creak of a cricket.
Quietly, she rose from the chair. She ought to change into her night dress. Or, more daring yet, simply undress and don the oriental robe Lady Agatha had given her.
The thought of arriving in Morgan’s room wearing only a thin silk wrapper made her heart beat faster.
If anyone saw her in the hall, they would assume the worst. Yet half the ton already did, and when she began touring, half the world would as well. If she were going to displease so many, she might as well please herself.
It took a bit longer than she would have liked to shed her gown and unlace her corset. But she had not wanted to change her clothing in front of Louisa. Yes, her sister had seen her in her nightdress with Morgan, but Jessa would rather preserve her innocence whenever possible. At last, she was undressed. She pulled the silk dressing gown about herself, then finished unpinning her hair.
She would go to Morgan nearly naked, with her hair unbound. Surely he could not refuse her then.
Anticipation tangled with fear as she took up the candle and slipped from the room. The hall carpet was soft beneath her bare feet, and she watched her reflection in the far window coming closer. Closer, until she stood outside the earl’s door once again.
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