Alethea had opened the front door to head to the park with Margaret when she came face-to-face with the one face she’d seen in her head all night.
“Dommick.” The name came out strangled.
He lowered his hand from where he’d been about to raise the door knocker. He looked as if coal had been smudged under his eyes, and his normally immaculate dark hair had been twisted by the breeze, for he had removed his hat. “You are going out?”
“To the park.”
“May I . . .” He swallowed. “May I accompany you?”
She swallowed also. “Yes.” She busied herself in ordering the new footman to return to his duties rather than accompany them. Bill had been turned off by an irate Aunt Ebena after what had happened to Margaret.
Margaret was studying Dommick with a critical eye. “I do not know that I wish him to come with us.”
“Margaret,” Alethea said. “Pray do not be rude.”
“He was rude yesterday.”
“He was not rude to you.”
Dommick gave Margaret a formal bow. “I am come to apologize. Will you allow me to do so?”
Margaret pretended to think about it, then gave a regal nod.
Alethea wished all would be well with so simple a gesture, but her heart was bruised and her emotions stormy. And the worst of it was that she did not really understand what she was feeling.
She closed the door and they all headed to the park. “You may apologize to Alethea now,” Margaret said grandly to Dommick.
“May I apologize to you first for upsetting your household?”
A gleam appeared in Margaret’s eye. “I will if you will buy me my own violin to practice on.”
“Margaret!” Alethea was mortified.
“Alethea is always practicing on hers and I am only allowed to borrow it, and then only when Aunt Ebena is out of the house since she says the sound causes her indigestion. Although I don’t understand how violin music can affect one’s stomach.”
Perhaps when the “music” sounds like a dozen shrieking fishwives, Alethea reflected.
“I would be most happy to procure a violin for you,” Dommick said.
“Dommick, no,” Alethea said. “Margaret, your response to him was highly inappropriate.”
“My response to you was highly inappropriate.” He turned to her, and the expression in his eyes caused the storm in her stomach to rumble and bluster. “I beg you will allow me this small token.”
“Oh, please, Alethea.” Margaret tugged at her sleeve.
Alethea used Margaret as an excuse to break eye contact with Dommick. “I shall consider it if you behave. You were a veritable hoyden all morning. And don’t for a moment think that I have forgotten the vase you broke with the fireplace poker.”
“I was only trying to act out the lesson to make it more interesting. Reading Shakespeare is quite boring.”
“What were you reading?” Dommick asked Margaret.
For the rest of the walk, he managed to draw out all the most bloodthirsty portions of Henry IV, which delighted Margaret to no end. Alethea huddled in her pelisse and muff and tried to decide if she wanted to listen to his apology or simply deliver a stunning set down and walk away from him. Except, of course, that she couldn’t think of a suitably stunning set down, and she couldn’t abandon Margaret into his care either.
At the park, Margaret wandered off to annoy any wildlife to be found, and Dommick turned to Alethea. “Let me explain—”
“No, I should like to speak first.” Her hands were shaking where they pressed into her churning belly. “Your behaviour was shocking yesterday. You embarrassed me in front of my aunt and your friends, and your reaction was inappropriate.”
“All true.” His face was grave.
“Stop being agreeable. I am not finished.” She huffed in a breath. “I asked Lord Ian for a copy of your violin music since I had had difficulty procuring it, and I certainly did not realize he would copy an unpublished piece. I am quite offended at your disapproval of the fact that I was playing it. Why should not a woman play your music? Your objection is preposterous—”
He stopped her speech by reaching out to grab hold of her shoulders. He leaned his head closer to hers, his eyes intense. She realized, in astonishment, that behind his embarrassment and contrition, he was in great pain.
“I did not object to your playing my music because you are a woman.” His voice was low with a slight tremor. “I started writing that piece the day after I met you again in Bath.”
She inhaled . . . and could not exhale. She suddenly saw his anger in a completely different light.
“I was embarrassed that you heard the piece, much less played it,” he continued. “When I was writing it, it was a very . . . consuming composition.”
She had known this, even as she practiced it, even in only hearing her own instrument and not the full effect of both violins. There had been something aching in the music. She had been anticipating practicing with Lord Ian so that she could hear and feel it fully. And now she knew why it had called to her.
Dommick’s hands dropped from her shoulders, and he took a half step back. “It does not excuse my behaviour. I deeply apologize for what I said. I was upset and disconcerted because, in many ways . . . the piece was for you.”
She stood there, unable to speak, unable to move. Something about this man made her want to cry, made her want to throw herself into his arms. She simply stared at his downturned profile, the hawklike nose, the dark winging brows, the firm jawline.
He straightened, seemed to collect himself. He was the old Dommick, slightly more handsome and slightly more aloof than she liked. “I have no right to ask this of you, but would you consider entering into your original plan with me?”
“Using me and the violin as bait in your concert? Will you be quite resigned to playing in a public concert with a woman on a violin?” She lifted her eyebrows in challenge to him.
“My objections were for the sake of my sister. I could not allow any slur to my reputation to reflect poorly upon her, and unconventionality is one thing polite society does not make light of.”
“I had not thought of the impact upon your sister.” She had been only too ready to battle him for her right to play. “This concert will do exactly what you fear.”
“I no longer fear it, for the outcome will outweigh any momentary discomfort. You were right. We have been reacting to this man’s schemes. We need to act on one of our own.”
She watched Margaret chasing ducks and tried to sort through what she was feeling, but it was no use. She was feeling a multitude of things at once. “What do you wish me to do?”
“The concert has been set for tomorrow, fortnight. There is not much time to prepare. Can you come to Raven’s house this afternoon to practice?”
“With my violin? Will that be quite safe?”
“I shall call with my carriage, but you would need to conceal it as you left the house.”
“I could hide it under my cloak.”
“Shall I call for you at three o’clock?”
She pursed her lips as she regarded him. “I have not yet said that I forgive you.”
Then he rattled her with that devastating smile that brought out the laugh lines radiating from the corners of his eyes and deepening the creases alongside his mouth. “Perhaps you will consider it when I tell you that I have a new composition.”
“What sort of composition?”
“For two violins, a violoncello, and pianoforte.” He bowed to her. “I am asking you to make up the fourth of the Quartet.”
Alethea scurried into Dommick’s carriage rather awkwardly since she had the violin in a case hidden under her cloak and it banged against her knees. Once she was inside, she set it on the seat next to her. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might be seen against her dress bodice.
Across from her, Clare grinned. “How exciting this all is!”
Dommick scowled at her. “I would not have included you, brat, if propriety had not necessitated it.”
“No one knows Alethea is transporting her violin, so why should there be any danger?”
“No one in your household saw you with the violin?”
Alethea shook her head. “I keep it in my bedchamber, and I hid it under my cloak while inside.”
She did not like exposing the violin in this way. But her aunt’s drawing room, filled with tables and chairs, did not have the spaciousness of Lord Ravenhurst’s music room, which was necessary to accommodate both violinists and a violoncello player.
At the marquess’s house, she thought she would need to keep her cloak until she reached the music room, which would look exceedingly odd, but as the carriage pulled up, Lord Ian met them outside. He opened the carriage door, smoothly took her violin case, and carried it into the house under his greatcoat. As the butler and maids removed their outer garments, Lord Ian casually handled the violin case as though it were his own.
“Such subterfuge,” Clare said to Alethea as they headed toward the music room.
“I would prefer it were not necessary,” she said.
“But think, we should not have met had you not needed Bayard’s expertise.”
“How do you know that Lady Alethea’s existence has been enriched by your acquaintance and not the opposite?” Lord Ian asked Clare.
Clare glared at him.
“I assure you, your acquaintance has been a delight to me,” Alethea said while shooting Lord Ian an exasperated look. He grinned at her.
At the music room door, Clare said, “I must attend to Mama, so Lucy will sit with you. I shall return later to hear you play.” She headed toward the drawing room.
As she entered the music room, Alethea saw Lucy, for propriety’s sake, seated in a corner with some mending. Her sister gave her a quick smile, then returned to her work.
The music room had been set up with three chairs and three music stands ranged around the magnificent Broadwood pianoforte. Lord Ian handed her violin to her, and it was both strange and exhilarating when he held out her chair for her, which was not at the pianoforte.
He procured that seat for himself with a sigh. “I miss David exceedingly. Pianoforte is not my forte.”
Lord Ravenhurst grunted as he took up his violoncello, a beautiful instrument with a deep golden glow in the wood. “If David were here, you would not be playing at all. I much prefer Lady Alethea to your ugly mug.”
“Alethea, please take second violin.” There was a speculative gleam in Dommick’s eyes as he handed her the music manuscript, and her stomach tensed. In the concert, they would play the pieces she had already been practicing with Ian, but today they would play something new that he had just finished composing. She opened the manuscript.
The breath eased out of her chest as she looked it over. It was beautiful and challenging, but not extraordinarily difficult, even with her two injured fingers, which she had stretched earlier. She massaged them to warm them.
“Are you injured?” Dommick’s brows lowered.
“An old injury. It is nothing.” She was almost grateful to her cousin for forcing her to Bath, for only here could she have found a physician to help her regain the use of her left fingers.
She began her normal warm-up on her violin, exercises to stretch the stiff tendons in the last two fingers of her left hand, build finger speed, and increase the flexibility of her bow hand. She ran through some intonation and vibrato exercises, then skimmed through Dommick’s music to finger passages that might be tricky.
She finished as the other men completed their own warm-ups. She flipped to the first page.
“We shall take the first page at a decreased tempo,” Bayard said.
Lord Ian interrupted him. “Let us do a straight run-through instead.”
Dommick frowned, and Alethea thought he might have glanced quickly to her.
“Try it and see,” Lord Ian said cryptically.
After a moment’s hesitation, Dommick nodded. “Then, from the beginning.” He set the time with his bow, and with a firm nod, indicated for them to begin.
The music blasted into existence like a choir of angels, grabbing her heart and squeezing tightly. She had never before played with more than one other musician. The sound roared through her in powerful waves, chords and runs in unison that echoed from the high ceiling of the room.
The piece diverged as each instrument carried the primary melodic line in turn, weaving from one to the other in a tapestry more colourful than any hangings on the walls of Trittonstone Park. The complexity fascinated and excited her, and she eagerly played, barely aware of herself as she gloried in the rich sounds produced.
Then the music softened like the stillness of early morning on the downs, and each instrument became a bird welcoming the day, a rabbit rising up to sniff new scents on the air, the hawk soaring on the high winds above the world.
The music built like a storm, first with the pitter of raindrops, then the blustering wind, then the crashing thunder and blistering sheets of water flattening the grass. The instruments again wove into each other, one at the forefront and then the other, each carrying a storyline of the music until they all converged into a climax of nature’s fury. The piece ended as if on a sigh.
Alethea was breathing heavily as she lowered her bow. Her heart felt filled with simmering emotions that spilled over—awe, sadness, tenderness, ecstasy. She closed her eyes, trying to recapture the rush of euphoria of those last measures.
“I told you,” Lord Ian said in a smug voice.
She opened her eyes to find Dommick staring at her in complete astonishment. “Good Lord,” he said.
She didn’t know what he was referring to. The potency of his gaze made her anxiety begin to rise. “What is it?” Her voice was weaker than normal, and she cleared her throat. “What is wrong?” she demanded in a stronger tone.
“You are . . . magnificent.” Dommick’s voice was filled with wonder, and the yearning in his eyes was suddenly all she could see. And she knew he could see the fullness of her heart, the fragility exposed whenever she played because she played with all her being.
Dommick had heard brief strains from her violin, but unlike Lord Ian and Lord Ravenhurst, he had not seen her perform before now.
“Lady Alethea, you see Bayard flabbergasted,” Lord Ian said. “I do believe you are even better than I on the violin.”
“I never doubted your ability, but I had never seen you challenged.” Dommick broke eye contact and looked at his music, but Alethea saw the faint flush of colour at his jawline. It was endearing to see him embarrassed.
Alethea glanced at Lucy. Her sister gave her a wink and a smile as if to say, “Well done, you have bested them.” It buoyed her spirits as she returned her attention to the men.
“Now that we are aware that Lady Alethea can outplay all of us, shall we continue?” Lord Ravenhurst said.
It was the most enjoyable two hours she had spent in many years. Alethea forgot about Lucy, sitting in the corner as her chaperone. Dommick had the ability to write music that sounded elaborate, yet was straightforward to master. Lord Ravenhurst had uncanny intuition about tweaking passages to create more emotional impact. Lord Ian suggested changes that enhanced the strengths of the individual instruments.
Clare and Lady Morrish entered the music room to sit and listen to the final product of their practice session. Lady Morrish expressed pleasure at the piece, but Clare sat immobile for a full minute after they had finished, her mouth in an O and her eyes darting at the musicians, landing most often upon Alethea. Finally she gasped, “Bayard, that piece is your most commanding composition yet. And, Alethea, your talent is . . . staggering.”
“Yes, she is brilliant,” Lord Ian agreed.
“I thank you.” Their praise should have made Alethea feel vindicated after her interest in the violin had been denigrated by so many people. Yet she felt uncomfortable. She did not want to stand out from the other musicians—she realized she wanted to belong to them. They never made her feel like an intruder to their circle, but she nonetheless was not quite one of them. And she longed to be. She longed to call them her intimate friends.
“I should return to my aunt,” Alethea said reluctantly.
“We shall see you and your aunt tonight at Mrs. Pollwitton’s rout?” Lady Morrish asked.
“Of course.”
Alethea replaced the violin in its case and gave it to Lord Ian to carry downstairs for her. Lucy had gathered her mending and waited to follow them all out, but Alethea held back to reach for her hand.
“I have never heard you play so well,” Lucy said.
“I am glad you were here.” Alethea left the room and Clare fell in beside her.
“I knew you would be remarkable. The entire household could hear all of you practicing and it sounded wonderful,” Clare said.
Something about Clare’s comment caused a tickle of unease in her stomach, but it was forgotten as she retrieved her coat and bonnet from the butler. This time Lord Ian joined them on the drive back to Queen Square.
Dommick said, “For our next practice—”
There was the sudden crack! of a gunshot. Alethea’s heart tried to shoot out of her chest.
“What—” Lord Ian looked out the window, then was flung backward as the carriage jerked forward.
They rattled along the cobblestones as the horses raced down the street. Alethea heard cries as people darted out of the way of the runaway horses. The street was short, and as the horses skidded and tried to turn, the carriage slid and flipped onto its side.
The sound of wood crashing and sliding along the pebbles filled the carriage. Clare landed atop Alethea, and she grabbed the girl and held on tightly, curling them both into a ball. A gentleman bounced atop her legs.
Then the carriage stopped moving. The frantic cries of the horses filtered through the fuzziness in Alethea’s brain, along with screams and the babbling of bystanders. She cast an eye upward where the window of the carriage opened to the sky.
A shadow passed through the light, and then the carriage door was wrenched open. The face of the cadaverous man peered inside.
Alethea screamed.
His grey eyes darted around the carriage, and he reached in to grab the violin case. Dommick kicked at him and hurled himself out of the overturned carriage at the man, and they disappeared from sight. Ian clambered out after him.
Alethea smoothed the dark hair from Clare’s pale face. “Are you injured? Are you in pain?”
“I am well,” she said in a squeak.
Alethea struggled to a sitting position, but her heavy woolen skirts hampered her. She pulled herself upright by grasping the edges of the carriage door and peered outside.
The cadaverous man was fleeing, jostling through the crowd. Dommick gave chase, but Lord Ian turned back to them. He reached for Alethea’s arms and helped her out of the carriage. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He assisted Clare, wrapping his arm around her waist to carry her out of the carriage and set her upon her feet. He then went to help the coachman with the panicked horses. After they had unhitched them from the broken carriage shafts, he helped the coachman sit down on the side of the street, for there was blood running from a gash on his head.
Alethea lent him her handkerchief to staunch the worst of it. “What happened?”
The coachman nodded in the direction the cadaverous man had taken. “He was at the side of the street on horseback, and he shot a pistol right near the horses. They bolted.”
“He followed the runaway coach?”
“Must have. Next thing I know, I sees him opening the carriage. That’s his horse, methinks.” The coachman pointed to where a saddled horse stood with trailing reins, unable to do more than circle nervously because of the crowd.
Ian was holding the carriage horses, so Alethea grabbed the lone horse to calm it before it trampled someone. It looked to be a hired hack.
Dommick returned soon, breathing heavily. Strangely, he hesitated before he took the bridle from Alethea. “Is Clare unharmed?”
“Yes.”
“Whose horse is this?”
“The coachman believes it belonged to the cadaverous man.”
Dommick’s face was white and angry. “How could he have known you had the violin? You didn’t know until this morning that we had a practice session, and none of the servants saw you carrying it.”
Alethea remembered Clare’s remark, and now understood why it had caused a feeling of misgiving. “The servants heard us playing. Lord Ian walked into the house carrying it, and I was in the music room with you all. It could not be difficult to hazard a guess that the violin was mine and I was playing it.”
Tension radiated from Dommick, which began to affect the horse. Alethea reached out to pat its neck and speak soothingly, and it quieted.
Dommick turned to her with burning eyes. “There is a spy in my household.”