Alethea walked through the doors to Lady Fairmont’s home and immediately felt as if everyone were staring at her.
She surreptitiously studied her dress to make sure mud wasn’t splattered across it. The deep lace at the hem was unblemished cream. The rosy-orange colour was perhaps a trifle unusual for an unmarried woman, but Alethea felt her advanced age entitled her to shed insipid whites in favour of colours that suited her better. But surely that wouldn’t cause the stares. Was she imagining it?
“Why are people staring at you?” Aunt Ebena demanded in a whisper.
No, not imagining it.
They waited through the receiving line until they reached Lady Fairmont, resplendent in violet satin with an amethyst pendant the size of a walnut at her throat. “Ebena, so good of you to come.” Lady Fairmont kissed the air above Aunt Ebena’s cheek.
“Tania, you remember my niece, Lady Alethea Sutherton?”
“Of course.” Lady Fairmont beamed at Alethea, who curtseyed.
“Lady Fairmont, later in the evening, might I have a word—” Alethea began, but stopped at a look from Aunt Ebena. They continued on and Lady Fairmont greeted the next person in line.
“Tania would forget any meeting you arranged with her in the receiving line,” Aunt Ebena said. “Try to find a moment with her later in the evening, when fewer people are attempting to speak to her.”
Lady Fairmont’s ball was small, limited to the size of her two drawing rooms with the connecting double doors thrown open to expand the dancing area, and a card room and supper room, yet it was one of the largest residences in Bath. The elegant furniture had been removed to make way for the dancers and the musicians in a side alcove, although many chairs in both classical and Egyptian styles graced the walls, several already occupied by guests. The rooms were packed with far more people than could comfortably fit. The musicians had not yet begun, and Alethea wondered how people would clear a space for the dancing.
“I see Mrs. Nanstone,” Aunt Ebena said. “She detests me and would be only too happy to tell me why everyone is staring at you as if you’ve grown tentacles. Go somewhere and be unobtrusive.” Her aunt bustled off through the crowd.
The only people not glancing her way were Lord Dommick and his party. His mother and sister sat at chairs speaking to Lord Ian and Lord Ravenhurst while Lord Dommick stood nearby, his posture upright. He did not look tense, but something about him made Alethea think he was not comfortable in the close room with people chatting and occasionally bumping into him. He was all politeness, but there was a stiffness at the edges of his mouth. Alethea realized with a start of surprise that he may not like small rooms and crowds of people. Just like herself.
He happened to glance her way. Alethea did not expect him to notice her in the midst of so many people, but he found her gaze, perhaps because her height set her above most of the women in the room. He froze for a moment as if something had surprised him, then with a tiny shake of his head, he blinked. He nodded his head to her, and she returned his gesture. At least he was not staring and pointing as others were doing.
In her London season, she had been a stone lighter, awkward and insecure. She would have obeyed her aunt’s instructions to be unobtrusive by hiding in a dark corner, preferably behind a fern.
But she was not that girl anymore. So, instead, she held her head high, relaxing her shoulders to belie the pounding of her heart, and adopted a polite mask. She decided to emulate Aunt Ebena’s excellent strategy and walked toward the cluster of women who appeared to be deriving the most enjoyment from her discomfiture.
Alethea had not been overly impressed with the calibre of Bath misses she’d met this past year while going out in society with her Aunt Ebena. Most of them were daughters, nieces, granddaughters, and grandnieces to Aunt Ebena’s friends and acquaintances, and a rather large percentage of them resented being stuck in mouldy Bath with their elders rather than somewhere that possessed more young, single men.
They made Alethea feel rather long in the tooth, because at the advanced age of twenty-eight, she was firmly on the shelf, whereas most of them were still in the fresh, nubile state of mind where dreams of dukes falling madly in love with them still formed the chief of their journal entries. As an earl’s daughter who had been introduced to several dukes and marquesses, Alethea had found that many arrogant noblemen lost that gilding painted onto their personalities on account of their rank, so she had even less in common with these young girls.
And the icing on the cake was Alethea’s intensity when it came to music. Most of the young women played adequately for social situations, or they found enjoyment in playing, but none of them had Alethea’s focus during concerts and her appalling tendency to listen to the music rather than gossiping about the attendees. They did not understand her, and they did not care to.
And so now, Alethea walked straight toward the one girl who embodied all those characteristics—Miss Herrington-Smythe. The bored young woman made no secret of her yearning for the excitement of London rather than being stuck in Bath with her great-aunt, one of Aunt Ebena’s friends. She was also confident in her ability to dazzle a duke despite her disparity of funds, and she possessed a rather unfortunate sense of pitch but was convinced she sang as well as the famous soprano Catalani.
Alethea could have chosen any other miss, who would likely flare her nose at Alethea, then give her the cut direct, which wasn’t very entertaining.
Miss Herrington-Smythe, on the other hand, would relish Alethea’s attention and give her all the information she needed to know, albeit clothed in barbs and insults. An added bonus was that Miss Oakridge, Lady Fairmont’s granddaughter, formed part of Miss Herrington-Smythe’s retinue, and if Alethea could attain a private second alone with her, she might recognize the initials from the violin.
Alethea approached the two girls. “Good evening, Miss Oakridge, Miss Herrington-Smythe.”
“Good evening, Lady Alethea.” Miss Herrington-Smythe smiled widely, her crooked teeth emphasizing how pointy her canines were. “What an unusual colour gown you have on. The style for older women is so varied these days, don’t you agree? It really does wonders to perk them up.”
Miss Oakridge, closest to Alethea’s age at twenty-three and embarrassingly desperate to marry, tittered behind a gloved hand while smoothing her white lace gown.
If she wanted any information out of Miss Herrington-Smythe, Alethea needed to prod her with an insult that was pointed enough to make her vindictive. “I think it a great pity young girls wear white. When they dance, they look like jiggling blancmange puddings.”
A strangled noise came from Miss Herrington-Smythe, although Alethea was scanning the room in a casual manner and avoiding her eye. After a moment, Miss Herrington-Smythe said in a voice like candied plums, “Lady Alethea, you must put to rest a most distressing rumour. Have you indeed asked Lord Dommick to discover the original owner of your violin?”
Was this why people were staring? “Yes. Whyever would that distress you, Miss Herrington-Smythe?”
Miss Herrington-Smythe pretended to look shocked. “Lady Alethea, say it isn’t so.”
Alethea resisted reaching out to shake her. Miss Herrington-Smythe was being vague when Alethea needed information. “I am concerned that you are losing your hearing. I daresay it happens to some of us as we age. I shall repeat my question. Why should the news distress you?”
Miss Herrington-Smythe shrugged off the barb. “I was hoping to have misunderstood you, for I should hate to suspect that you are becoming desperate.”
Alethea walked into that verbal trap. “Desperate about what?”
“About your future, of course.”
“Miss Herrington-Smythe, I fear the heat has addled your brain. You poor dear.”
Miss Oakridge covered a snort with a hand clapped over her mouth.
Alethea continued, “How should anyone think my violin has anything to do with my concerns about my future?”
Miss Herrington-Smythe delivered the crushing blow with relish. “I only have your welfare at heart when I tell you that everyone believes you may have . . . exaggerated the mysterious history of your violin in order to monopolize the time of a certain gentleman.”
Alethea almost burst into laughter, but that would ruin Miss Herrington-Smythe’s glee in telling Alethea the rumour. “Indeed?” she said in what she hoped were tones of horror.
“I am most sorry to tell you that this is how it appears to everyone in Bath. It’s really rather pitiable. Young ladies have no need to resort to ruses to force men to spend time in their company.”
“Of course, only a violin would do for your plans,” Miss Oakridge added. “How long you must have looked for one old enough to provide a challenge for him.”
The comment was like a long, deep scratch on Lady Arkright’s violin. “The violin was a bequest,” Alethea said through numb lips. These pampered, selfish women would never understand the depth of love that made the violin so precious to her. Their idea of a mother’s love was a shopping trip for a new gown.
Alethea didn’t like Miss Herrington-Smythe and her friends, so she should not be hurt by the fact that they delighted in society’s current disdain of her, but it reminded her once again that the polite world was not a pond she easily swam in.
She had always only depended upon herself, and it was still true. However, she wished her independence was not so isolating at times.
“How fortuitous for you,” Miss Herrington-Smythe cooed.
“I am ashamed at the effort some women will undertake to capture the interest of gentlemen,” Miss Oakridge added.
“Alethea, there you are.” The deep voice behind her seemed to rise up from the murmurings of the crowd and blanket them all with a strange stillness.
Alethea turned and tried not to look astounded. Lord Dommick stood a few steps away, partially screened by the large back of a dowager in masses of black silk and apparently unnoticed by the three of them during their verbal melee. He had a warm smile that he had never directed at her, which made her insides jiggle like the blancmange she had compared the girls to earlier. There was also a sparking in his dark eyes that seemed to hint at some kind of irritation. Was he upset with her?
Then she realized that he had called her familiarly by her first name, which she had not given him permission to do. They were certainly not cordial enough for him to even have asked her for the privilege.
He nodded in a cool fashion toward Miss Herrington-Smythe, who had paled, and Miss Oakridge, who had gone scarlet. “Ladies, I beg you to excuse me and allow me to steal Alethea from you. I hope I was not interrupting anything of import?”
And at that moment, Alethea knew he had overheard a good portion of their altercation. Her stomach clenched. She had walked into this skirmish with the girls of her own accord, expecting the barbs and ready to deliver a few of her own. But once she realized what the rumours were about, she hadn’t thought about how it might negatively impact Lord Dommick and his family. Alethea was ready to sink through the floor.
“Alethea, Ravenhurst and Ian told me they had already secured your hand for dances tonight, and they teased me that I had not been faster, so I am come to secure my own dance before it’s too late.”
Alethea suspected she looked rather like a fish as she gaped at him, but she wasn’t sure what his game was.
Lord Dommick then nodded to the two girls and took Alethea by the arm to lead her away.
As it happened, the musicians signaled the start of the first dance. “Are you engaged for this dance?” he asked her.
“No.”
“Now you are.” The centre of the two connected rooms was being cleared of spectators, and couples began lining up. Lord Dommick led her among them. He said nothing as they waited for the music to start, but his face looked faintly forbidding.
It was fortunate Alethea was not easily intimidated.
The music began and she curtseyed to him. As they drew together in the movement, she whispered to him, “What in the world was that about?”
“Why did you engage in conversation with a vulture like Miss Herrington-Smythe?” Lord Dommick hissed back.
Alethea tried to yank her hand from his, but his fingers bit into her knuckles, and the two healed fingers twinged. “I needed information.”
“Don’t you realize the girl eats reputations for breakfast and spits them out as the most spurious gossip?”
“Oh, she’s harmless.”
The movements of the dance separated them, but she could tell Lord Dommick was trying very hard not to scowl at her. As they came together again, he said, “I can’t determine if you are simply naive or blind.”
She smiled and bared her teeth at him, saying through her tight jaw, “Miss Herrington-Smythe hasn’t an original thought in her brain. She only repeats what she hears with great relish, which makes her useful when I need to know why people are staring at me as if I have a peacock roosting on my head.”
His face remained stern, but the corner of his mouth twitched. If he weren’t so incensed, she was sure he might have cracked a smile. A real one, this time.
“I came to find you as soon as I heard what people were saying,” he said.
She blinked at him. “Why?”
“I have seen rumours ruin a person.” The ballroom wall suddenly fascinated him. “I thought it very unfair that your simple curiosity about your own violin would expose you to such ugliness.”
It had never occurred to her that he would be concerned for her. She had been so busy detesting him and trying not to think about him that she had assumed his heart was an empty shell.
No, that wasn’t quite true. From the assembly, she knew he cared deeply for his sister. That he had extended his concern to her . . . she was not certain what it made her feel. “I thank you, my lord.”
“You should call me Dommick since I made free with your first name in front of those harpies.” He frowned, and at first Alethea thought he was upset about that, but then she realized he frowned because he was embarrassed.
How strange. She had placed him on a pedestal in her season in London, but then later she had set him apart as a cold statue. Yet in both cases, she had made him out to be remote and unfeeling, when in reality, he was . . . human.
Alethea said, “If the rumours only involved myself, I should find it hilariously diverting, but I do regret that the rumour requires people to studiously avoid mentioning your name.”
“It’s not my name I’m worried about. Miss Herrington-Smythe was doing a bang-up job smearing yours all over the floor.”
“Oh, that was nothing to worry about. If you had not extricated me from them, I was going to say something along the lines of, ‘Ladies, your conversation has ceased to be entertaining to me, so I bid you good evening.’ ”
He finally did smile at her. It made his eyes crinkle, and laugh lines deepened in his cheeks. “Can it really be true that you do not care about the rumours?”
Alethea gave a one-shouldered shrug she had picked up from Calandra. “I have had tales told about me my entire life because of living buried in the country. One becomes a figure of curiosity.” An oddity. Fodder for ridicule.
The dance separated them and he looked confused.
“Before I even arrived in town for my season, gossip had painted me as a wild hoyden with no table manners simply because I had never been seen in society. Several servants spread tales about how I forsook a regular schedule when I was practicing my music, and so the gossip expanded to say that I was an eccentric.”
“I never heard those rumours.”
“You probably did, but did not know me at the time and so it meant nothing to you. My Aunt Ingolton was sponsoring my come out and she was appalled, but the tales were so ridiculous I could not help but be amused by it all.” Alethea grinned. “I teased my aunt by threatening to pick up my soup bowl and drink directly from it at the next dinner party.”
He looked at her as if unsure if he should be amused or appalled himself.
“I no longer credit gossip about anyone else after being the object of such imaginative tales.” She could do no less, when the tales had both amused her and hurt her, though she never revealed her pain.
He surprised her with an expression of almost . . . awe. Then his face hardened. “I dislike gossip, but dislike even more being its object.”
The dance partnered her briefly with an older gentleman who was a friend of her aunt. “Lady Alethea, how lovely you look tonight.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pollwitton.”
For the rest of the dance, Alethea and Dommick said nothing to each other, but he did seem to be less disapproving.
And why should she care about that when she didn’t care about the disapproval of Miss Herrington-Smythe?
After the dance, he led her not to her aunt but to his mother, sitting with Lord Ravenhurst and Lord Ian. Lady Morrish greeted her with a smile. “Lady Alethea, how lovely to see you. Bayard has told me about your violin. I am relieved you have given him something to occupy his time this winter. He has had nothing to do besides be a trifle overprotective of his sister.” She nodded toward the dancers, where Miss Terralton was returning with a ginger-haired man with heavy-lidded eyes. The young lady held herself stiffly and appeared to not want to touch the man’s sleeve.
“Lady Alethea, do let me introduce my daughter, Miss Terralton, and my husband’s nephew, Mr. Morrish.”
Alethea curtseyed, but she didn’t like the way Mr. Morrish’s eyes lingered on her person as he rose from his bow. She had the childish urge to do what she used to do to the boys in her village and poke at his eyeballs with her fingers. She understood Miss Terralton’s distaste.
Mr. Morrish’s smile thrust his large front teeth directly at her. “Lady Alethea, how delightful to meet you at last. I have heard so much about your musical abilities.”
“I’m sure you have,” Alethea murmured before she could stop herself. Possibly things like absurdly strange and such a curiosity.
“What instrument do you play?” Mr. Morrish asked.
For a man who had heard so much about her, he hadn’t apparently paid a great deal of attention. She picked one of the other least acceptable instruments for an Englishwoman of the peerage. “The oboe.” Which wasn’t a lie, since Calandra had owned an oboe and taught her. Alethea simply hadn’t enjoyed playing it very much.
Mr. Morrish blinked at her in surprise. She wondered if he had even heard of an oboe.
Miss Terralton went into a paroxysm of coughing, which also served to distract Mr. Morrish. He seemed overly solicitous for Miss Terralton’s health, and Miss Terralton seemed overly annoyed by his attentions, so when the coughing subsided, Alethea cut into one of Mr. Morrish’s speeches. “Miss Terralton, I do apologize for taking your brother for the first dance when he should have been dancing with you.”
The young woman studied Alethea with bright, intelligent eyes and picked up on Alethea’s hint. “I will forgive you if Bay dances with me now.” The young woman smiled at her older brother, who cast Alethea a glance before leading his sister away.
Except that Alethea didn’t fancy entertaining the lecherous young man, which she realized too late. Mr. Morrish asked her with lubricious gallantry, “Would you do me the honour of dancing with me, Lady Alethea?”
“I am fatigued and wish to sit this dance.” She rather abruptly dropped into the chair next to Lady Morrish. “However, I think Miss Herrington-Smythe would be most honoured by a dance with you. Or perhaps Miss Oakridge.”
“I am afraid I am unacquainted with the ladies.” He smiled as if the omission were the greatest delight of his evening. “Otherwise, I should be most pleased to bestow my hand to your friend.”
“I am acquainted with them,” Lady Morrish said. “What a good idea, Lady Alethea. Come, Mr. Morrish, I shall introduce you.” She rose and drew the man away.
Alethea gave a great exhale as soon as he was out of earshot.
“Nicely played.” Lord Ian dropped down to lounge in the chair vacated by Lady Morrish. “How is our dear Miss Herrington-Smythe? Claws recently sharpened?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Ian . . . ,” Lord Ravenhurst said in a deep voice.
Lord Ian ignored his friend and turned to Alethea in a confiding manner. “In Miss Herrington-Smythe’s first season in London, at a dinner party, she sang abominably after dinner. Other gentlemen paid fulsome compliments. She said, ‘La, my performance was but mediocre. Surely Lord Ian can attest to that.’ I would not prevaricate in order to indulge her conceit, so I said, ‘Yes.’ ”
“You could have said something polite that would not be a lie.” Lord Ravenhurst frowned at his friend.
“When a woman is fishing for compliments, she must not expect to be spoiled. Later that evening she sat with a friend, happily slandering me, unaware I sat behind her, hidden by a potted palm. But then Raven put an end to my fun when he shouted, ‘Ian, come out from behind that palm!’ ”
Alethea laughed.
“And thus ended my brief infatuation with Miss Herrington—” He broke off with a roll of his eyes. “That woman needs to marry someone like Sir Harold Trout, if only to shorten her name.”
Lord Ravenhurst gave him a baleful look. “So it’ll be easier for you to gossip about her?”
“Of course.” Lord Ian raised a hand to flip his hair out of his eyes. “We shall see how disapproving you are in a week. You are the youngest unmarried marquess in a fifty-mile radius, and so her new target. Your residence has enlivened Bath for her.”
Lord Ravenhurst exhaled with a sound suspiciously like a moan.
Alethea was surprised. Her experience with men had been limited to those who were controlling, sadistic, or shallow. Yet here were two young men obviously fond of each other, able to tease the way she did with Lucy. She had seen a hint of it when Lord Ian accompanied Lord Dommick to her aunt’s home, but now she saw the depth of their bond. Almost like brothers. It went beyond their mutual interest in music, for although they were very different personalities, they accepted each other as they were. It chastised her for assuming that all men were as selfish and unfeeling as her father and brother.
“Will you three give a concert this winter?” Alethea asked.
“Yes,” Lord Ravenhurst said. “We are each writing new pieces to perform.”
Alethea clasped her hands together. “How wonderful. Will you be publishing your pieces after the concert? When I was at Trittonstone Park, I had difficulty procuring some of your music when the Quartet was still playing in London several years ago.”
“What pieces would you like? I would consider it an honour to give them to you.” Lord Ian flashed his dimples at her. Even in the depths of the country she had heard about his infamous charm.
“Did you or Lord Dommick ever publish your violin concertos? I should love to learn them.”
The smile Lord Ian gave Alethea now had a gleam as if he understood her more than she wanted him to. “Bay has never heard a woman play one of his violin pieces. I am sure it would be highly entertaining to see his reaction.”
Lord Ravenhurst glared at his friend. “Are you planning what I think you’re planning?”
“A pleasant surprise for our good friend?” Ian said.
“Define ‘pleasant.’ ”
“You haven’t heard Lady Alethea play, Raven. And her instrument is truly remarkable.”
“So, why wouldn’t you simply give her one of your violin compositions to play?”
“Oh, I will give her mine. But she would find Bay’s pieces more of a challenge.” Lord Ian leveled her a glance that dared her to join in his mischief.
And Alethea was more than willing. “If you give me a piece of violin music, I would be happy to master it.”
He grinned at her. “I’m sure you would be.”
“I know nothing, I hear nothing,” Lord Ravenhurst said with a long-suffering sigh.
Lady Morrish returned at that moment, and Lord Ian relinquished his seat. “Whom did you introduce Mr. Morrish to?” His polite curiosity hid his amusement.
“Miss Herrington-Smythe.” Lady Morrish pointed to where Mr. Morrish led the young lady down the dance. “I had hoped Miss Oakridge was available, but she already had a partner.”
“Lady Morrish, could you tell me if Miss Oakridge knows much about her grandmother’s Italian side of the family?” Alethea asked.
“Oh, I shouldn’t think she knows much, but Lady Fairmont is very knowledgeable. Sometimes I wonder if she isn’t related to every noble family in Italy.”
“I wondered if she knew any Italian nobleman with these initials.” Alethea withdrew the scrap of paper she had tucked into her glove and showed it to Lady Morrish.
The two young men peered over her shoulder at the paper. “Ah,” Lord Ian said, “you copied it, did you?”
“You will have a difficult time speaking to Lady Fairmont,” Lady Morrish said. “This ball is a sad crush.”
Lord Ravenhurst cleared his throat. “If I may, I have a dance with Lady Fairmont later and could ask her if she would spare a few minutes to speak to you.”
Alethea blinked. She couldn’t recall the last time a man had offered to do something for her. But perhaps he was merely assisting his friend. “Thank you, my lord. I would be most grateful.”
He bowed, but then added with a half smile, “I would always be at the service of any woman who prefers . . . challenging Bayard to fawning over him.”
Alethea smiled. “For shame, my lord. Lord Dommick and I have met thrice this winter and have yet to come to fisticuffs.”
“Alethea, there you are.” Aunt Ebena approached, and Alethea stood.
Lady Morrish said, “Mrs. Garen, how lovely to see you again. It has been many years since I last saw you in London.”
Aunt Ebena sat in Alethea’s vacated seat. “I am pleased to see you again, Lady Dom—no, you remarried this past year, did you not?”
“I am Lady Morrish now.”
Alethea hadn’t realized until the two women started chatting that Aunt Ebena had spent every season in London with her husband for several years, until his health failed him. This had all been before Alethea’s season. Aunt Ebena was polite to Lady Morrish, who responded with friendliness. By now, Alethea was used to the fact that Aunt Ebena’s civility extended to society but not to her niece. But perhaps that was true for all families. It had been Alethea’s experience with hers, except with Lucy.
She missed her sister now as she surveyed the room. The stares and whispers and Miss Herrington-Smythe’s unkindness had only emphasized how few friends she had. Was she so odd that she could be friendly with no one? It had become clear to her within her first month in Bath that she had very little in common with the people she met. Even the young Bath misses seemed to understand the rules of society better than she did. She only understood the countryside and music, both topics that held little popular interest and only garnered her snide censure.
But that was not true with the two gentlemen standing beside her. She turned to Lord Ian. “I am amazed that the Quartet is resurfacing after all these years, and without Captain Enlow.”
“Yes, David’s still fighting Boney. We shall have to find someone to take his place, poor chap,” Lord Ian said. “Shall you fill in?”
“I doubt Lord Dommick would allow that,” she said.
“He’s a touch sensitive about his public image at the moment.”
Lord Ravenhurst shot Lord Ian a look, and after a moment, looking conscientious, Lord Ian said no more.
She asked, “Have the four of you known each other long?”
“Since Eton,” Lord Ravenhurst said.
“Brought together by music?”
“Brought together by a fight, actually.” Lord Ian grinned. “No lad will stand for being accused of liking music. Two boys were picking on Bayard and me because they heard us talking about music. No one dared pick on David since even then he was a big, strong fellow, and Raven has that forbidding glare he probably practiced from the womb.”
“A contributing factor may be that I outranked all but one of the boys there,” Lord Ravenhurst remarked dryly.
“Well, Bayard and I weren’t about to let those nodcocks insult our masculinity, so we went at them. But there were six of them and only two of us, and so David and Raven joined in the fight.”
“Good gracious.” She could picture them as boys, lively and passionate about anything they put their minds to.
“Oh, it was great fun. Those bullies couldn’t throw a proper punch if you lined it up for them. But our headmaster wasn’t as amused by it.”
“Nothing like mutual punishment to bring boys together,” Lord Ravenhurst said.
Alethea smiled. “Most young noblemen do not continue their musical training after they enter society, but you four are remarkably accomplished. Your skills rival professional musicians.”
Lord Ian bowed. “We had two of the most vicious musical masters in Oxford who whipped us into shape soon enough.”
“He exaggerates, my lady,” Lord Ravenhurst said. “There were two retired musicians living near Oxford who trained us informally, especially in composition. One was German trained by an Italian master, and the other was French.”
“So, that is why your music is so unique. You have had influences from all three,” Alethea said. “At the concert I attended in London, Captain Enlow’s violin and pianoforte concerto was more lighthearted and complex than any I had heard before, but since then I have heard French compositions with a similar style.”
Lord Ravenhurst’s white-blond eyebrows rose as he regarded her. “That is very astute of you. When he wrote it, Mr. Enlow was hoping to emulate the atmosphere of French pieces.”
“I have not heard much music from other parts of the continent, but I have played several pieces from Mozart,” Alethea said. “His music is not very popular here in Bath.”
“Have you heard any of Beethoven’s pieces?” Lord Ravenhurst asked. “You would enjoy them.”
The dance ended, and Dommick returned with his sister. Alethea had not had so enjoyable a conversation in years. Her aunt did not allow her to speak to professional musicians at concerts, who tended to be of the middle class.
“Are you speaking of Beethoven?” Miss Terralton said. “Raven and I adore his music, but Ian pretends to disdain it.”
“My dear Clare, I only disdain it because you are in raptures about it,” Lord Ian said. “If you only considered it adequate, I would then be Beethoven’s greatest proponent.”
Miss Terralton gave Lord Ian a disgusted look. He grinned back at her.
“Do you like Beethoven, Lady Alethea?” Miss Terralton asked her.
“I am afraid I have never heard his music.”
“I have a trio I can lend to you. Usually Bayard and Raven play the violin and violoncello and I play pianoforte, but you play the violin, do you not?”
“Yes, indeed.” Alethea refrained from looking at Lord Dommick.
Lord Ian had no such restraint. “Lady Alethea plays well and has a very fine violin, doesn’t she, Bay? A Stradivarius?”
“We are not certain it is a Stradivarius, but I believe so,” Lord Dommick said.
“Have you taken it to Quill?” Lord Ravenhurst asked. “He would be able to verify it for a certainty.”
“Alethea is understandably hesitant to go traipsing about with her violin in hand.”
There was a beat of silence as everyone, including Dommick, realized he had called her by her name only. He had done so in front of Miss Herrington-Smythe to put her in her place, but to do it casually in front of his family shocked Alethea. His face was impassive, but she caught the colour seeping up his neck and realized he must have done so by accident.
Lady Morrish was the first to speak. “Why don’t you take your instrument-maker friend to Mrs. Garen’s home to look at the violin there?” She turned toward Aunt Ebena. “If you have no objection, of course?”
Aunt Ebena was regarding Lord Dommick with a thoughtful—and not very friendly—eye, but she nodded to Lady Morrish. “I should not mind at all.”
“I shall visit Quill tomorrow and arrange a time for us to come by this week,” Lord Dommick said.
“You may call tomorrow, if it suits you,” Aunt Ebena said. Alethea wondered at her aunt’s graciousness until she realized that for several days this week, her aunt had other engagements and Alethea would be home unchaperoned.
“Mr. Quill is a good instrument maker and repairer, and he is considered an expert on instrument forgeries,” Lord Dommick said. “He is especially gifted in ferreting out violins purported to be by Stradivari.”
“I have never claimed my violin was a Stradivarius,” Alethea said hotly. However, she had always suspected it was.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Alethea,” Aunt Ebena said. “He is only confirming if it is or is not. He is not accusing you of anything.”
“Of course not,” Lord Dommick said quickly. “I did not mean to imply anything.”
“I apologize, Lord Dommick,” Alethea said. Why was she so quick to take offense at everything he said? Something about him put her on edge.
Beside her, Miss Terralton suddenly tensed. Alethea turned to see Mr. Morrish approaching them.
“You both require rescuing,” Lord Ian said with a wink. “Raven, take Clare out for this dance, will you?” He grasped Alethea’s hand and led her to the dancers forming the new set.
“Thank you for thinking of me, but I have danced with many an unpleasant man,” Alethea said.
“While I have only your best interests at heart, Lady Alethea, I am also concerned for Clare.” He bowed to her as the music started.
“Miss Terralton?”
“At all the events we have attended since we arrived in Bath, Mr. Morrish has only ever associated with Clare or her female friends.”
“Surely he has his own friends?”
“If he does, they all happen to be female and in a close relationship with Clare.”
“Oh.” Alethea realized she would not like a man like Mr. Morrish around her own sister. Something about him made her feel as if she had butter smeared on her hands and she longed to wipe them.
She spent an enjoyable evening with Lord Dommick and his friends and family. Their stamp of approval appeared to temporarily dampen the whispering about Alethea, and several other men asked her to dance. However, they always returned her to Lady Morrish, since Aunt Ebena sat next to the woman for much of the evening, and neither lady was inclined to move. Alethea didn’t know what they spoke of, but neither lady appeared bored.
Finally, Lord Ravenhurst had his dance with Lady Fairmont. Alethea refused a gentleman who asked her to dance and waited for Lord Ravenhurst to return to Lady Morrish.
Lord Ian was dancing, and Miss Terralton had accepted the hand of a young man with bright blue eyes. Lord Dommick stood at Alethea’s side, but his gaze remained on his sister.
“You are very solicitous of your sister, my lord,” she said.
“She is very dear to me,” he said.
His answer surprised her. Her father and brother had only considered her a duty or an asset to be used, so it was hard for her to picture a man who cared for his family.
He turned to her. “And I asked you to call me Dommick.”
His eyes were very near hers. They held a hint of amusement, a hint of uncertainty, a hint of awkwardness. Her blood pounding in her ears made it difficult to gather her thoughts to answer him.
“Or would you prefer to call me Bayard? Raven and Ian do so because we grew up as boys together.”
“They told me about the fight.”
He smiled then, and it transformed his face from the stern hawk to a much younger man, with laugh lines radiating from his shining eyes and along his mouth. “I trust Ian added much embellishment?”
“I think Lord Ravenhurst would not let him.”
He was looking directly at her, so she saw clearly when his expression changed. If he were not always so controlled, so remote, she might have thought he looked at her with a sort of . . . longing.
Then his expression changed again, this time back to his distant, hawklike visage. He did not move a step, yet it seemed to Alethea that he grew farther away from her. He turned back to the dancers.
After several minutes’ silence, he said, “We studied together at Oxford under the same music masters.”
“Yes, Lord Ian mentioned that. It speaks much of your dedication to continue your music. Most young men do not.”
“They are expected to engage in more worthy pursuits than music, but the majority of them frequent gaming halls rather than their estates. I do not think it a bad thing that we spent our time practicing music rather than more unsavory pursuits, and we yet had time for our family duties.”
Alethea’s brother had certainly spent much of his time gaming. She had not been told the particulars, but she had heard rumours that he had reduced the Trittonstone estate considerably before his death. He had already sold much of the land not under the entail. “You worked hard, then, for your popularity in London,” Alethea said. “I am sure many miss your concerts.”
“If David and I had not bought our commissions, we would not have continued,” Dommick said. “Raven’s estates took much of his time, Ian was caring for his mother and sister, and our families . . .” He stopped and seemed self-conscious.
Alethea thought she understood what he had been about to say. “Surely your families were pleased with your popularity?”
Dommick was not looking at her, and his voice was low. “Only for a while.”
“They did not understand,” she said slowly. “For most, music is something to adequately perform, nothing more. But for some, it rises above mere entertainment.” Calandra had understood that in Alethea. What a gift that was. She could not imagine growing up without the support of at least one person.
He looked at her. “Yes,” he said in a voice of surprise.
For a moment, it was as if he were touching her. She could almost feel his fingers on her face. His gaze wrapped around her, muting the sounds of the dance and the crowds in the room.
Then he blinked, and she blinked, and they both looked away.
She did not look at him again for the rest of the dance. Their silence was both comfortable and uncomfortable. His presence beside her was a sort of balm, and at the same time, she felt tense and nervous. She did not like not understanding herself, and she could somehow sense that he felt the same way.
The music ended, and Lord Ravenhurst appeared, escorting Lady Fairmont. She looked tired but happy at the success of her ball. One of the violet feathers in her headdress wilted sadly, but her amethyst pendant glittered at her bosom.
“Ebena, Lady Morrish,” Lady Fairmont said. “I hope you are enjoying yourselves?”
“A wonderful ball, Tania,” Aunt Ebena said.
She turned to Alethea with a polite smile. “And, Lady Alethea, Ravenhurst says you wish to speak with me?”
“It will take but a moment, my lady. My aunt has said you are familiar with many Italian noble families through your mother’s side?”
“Oh, yes. My mother was very interested in family trees.”
“I came across some initials that may be from an Italian nobleman.” Alethea pulled the paper with the initials from her glove and handed it to Lady Fairmont. “I do not know who they refer to, but I wondered if you might perhaps recognize—”
She broke off because Lady Fairmont had turned a glowing crimson that clashed horribly with her gown. The look she gave Alethea was equal parts horrified and enraged. She thrust the paper back at Alethea, then turned to Aunt Ebena. “I don’t know what you are about, Ebena, but this is outrageous.”
Aunt Ebena’s jaw had fallen open, her grey eyes wide.
“My lady, I assure you—” Alethea began, but Lady Fairmont cut her off with a slicing motion of her hand so violent that it made her pendant bounce on her chest.
Then without a word, Lady Fairmont turned and stalked away.