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Authors: Hayley A. Solomon

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If she was not a thoroughly well-bred young lady, she would have stuck her tongue out at the very least. Instead, she sighed quietly to herself and flashed a quick, loving smile at Ancilla. “I almost look
forward
to the gaiety of Seraphina's morning callers!”
“If you were not betrothed yourself I am sure you would have your
own
fair share of admirers!” Ancilla looked her daughter over critically. She was quietly blossoming into something quite out of the ordinary way. Not a beauty in the conventional sense, but peculiarly striking nonetheless.
Such
a pity she did not take during her seasons. The young gentlemen must either have been blind or bewildered by her lively intelligence.
For an instant, she pondered whether Cordelia would be
happy
as Lady Winthrop. His lordship was such a dead bore. Still, the match was a social coup for Cordelia and certainly preferable to the life of a spinster. She
must
be happy with the notion. Putting aside her momentary concern—Ancilla
loathed
dwelling on the unpleasant—she smiled at her firstborn and bade her sternly to have a happy day.
Cordelia nodded. Impossible, of course, when she could do nothing but dream of . . . of . . . She blushed even to
think
what she dreamed of and with whom. Silly creature! Impossible dreams always came to naught and made the dreamer miserable. As always, she would make the day as useful and as provident as she could.
“Do not worry your head about
me,
Mama! I shall have a well-spent morning, I assure you. You may select a novel for me, too, though if you will! I am in the mood for something frivolous! Perhaps
Pride and Prejudice
again—it is every bit as excellent as
Sense and Sensibility
was.”
Ancilla sniffed. “Nothing
happens
in them, Cordelia! It is just about ordinary people like you and me! I warrant Miss Austen has not inserted a single ghost, a
single
mysterious treasure chest or even a hideous creaking coat of armour! No blood or shrieking banshees in the mists, no evil—”
“Stop it, Mama! You are making me laugh!”
“I am serious, Cordelia! But I must say, a little laughter suits you. If you want to read dreary Miss Austen I am sure I shall not stop you.”
“Thank you. I deem that awfully kind in you I am sure. And now, if you will excuse me.”
Ancilla nodded and Cordelia crossed the hall and made her brisk way down the cantilevered steps and across the hall to another, narrower flight, which would ultimately lead her down to the kitchens.
 
 
“Miss Seraphina, I take leave to tell you you are a scamp! I have a good mind not to instruct you at all this morning.”
Seraphina turned an innocent face upon the man she was rapidly coming to esteem very highly indeed. He might have relented a little, but for the naughty pout that just touched her lips and caused him to want to kiss her very thoroughly for the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon. Setting aside the thought firmly, my lord—or the captain, as he was known to the household—reviewed his pupil rather firmly and warned her that he intended to be a hard taskmaster.
Seraphina blithely nodded and announced she'd expected nothing else from a man with as authoritarian an air as himself.
“I shall, however, be good,” she promised as she bestowed poor Frederick with the kind of smile that threatened to undo all of his resolutions.
“Very well, Miss Seraphina. I have an excellent notion of your aptitude on the harpsichord and your ready sensitivity to tempo and themes. You have a gift, for where most people need to be taught, you appear to have an innate sense of rhythm.”
Seraphina hung on his words, for though she had received fulsome compliments in her life, none meant as much as these careful, unadorned words.
Frederick continued. “I am actually at a loss to know what went so dismally wrong at your famous soiree! I would have thought you would acquit yourself tolerably well even
without
practice.
Not,
” he uttered in stern accents, “that I am in any way condoning a lack of regular practice.” There was a small pause. “I am merely slightly baffled and, yes, admittedly curious as to the
cause
of your failure.” He did not mince his words. “What did you sing?”
Seraphina coloured at the memory. “ ‘Lost is my quiet forever.' ” His grace the Duke of Doncaster came to my aid towards the end. I was never so mortified.
“Rhaz?” The name was out before the captain could stop himself. How
very
unlike the duke! He made a mental note to quiz him on it in the future.
Fortunately, Seraphina was still so embarrassed by the memory that she did not think it at all peculiar that a nameless music master should be acquainted, on first-name terms, with an illustrious nobleman of Rhaz's rank. She merely nodded and admitted that the evening had been “quite hellish” until she'd been rescued.
The captain nodded decisively. “We shall have to remedy that then. I do not think we have the sheet music for the Purcell, but I think I can find something similar.”
He rummaged among the papers and came up with a sheet. “Excellent! You may sing this—it is in the same scale—and I shall accompany you. Then we shall see what can be done about making you a singer!”
His smile was so encouraging, Seraphina forgot her nervousness and took up the sheet. She cleared her throat and began. The captain listened with rapt attention as she sang the first few bars. Since he did not interrupt her, she gathered up her confidence and continued, faltering a little over some of the more
testing
notes, but nonetheless finishing the piece with relative ease.
There was a moment's silence when she had finished. Seraphina looked uncertainly at the captain, wondering what thoughts were flitting through his mind. Whatever she imagined, it was certainly not that he would look at her, tousle her glorious hair with
unmannerly
intimacy, then throw his head back and laugh.
Indignation rose stronger and stronger in Seraphina's breast as Frederick took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his eyes and planted a delightful, earth-shattering kiss upon her nose. The impudence! Seraphina seethed, but her nerves positively
jangled
from the unexpected caress.
At length, the twinkle dimmed from her thoroughly unsettling tutor's eyes. He took her hands in his and rather solemnly announced that he feared her singing skills were sadly beyond redemption.
“I shall have to reduce my fees, Miss Seraphina! I cannot in all honesty promise to tutor your singing voice, though the rest of your musical skills yield unsuspected promise.”
He noted with sudden compassion how her beautiful, misty, sky blue eyes were suddenly dewy and he could all but detect a sniff. “Here.” He handed her the handkerchief. “Dry your eyes, my little angel. You may not be a singer, but you are a musician born. Any old person can sing. Few can achieve the heights with harmony as I suspect you can. We will work and you will learn. I shall not reduce my fees, for rather than turning out yet another insipid young miss vaguely accomplished at humming out a tune, I am going to make a musician. There, there! If you cry you shall break my heart.”
His words were so compassionate, so truthful and so unutterably soothing that Seraphina no longer felt humiliation. He was not mocking her. If she knew no better, she could swear he was doing the reverse.
She consigned the handkerchief to the occasional table and sat down. For once, her lovely, animated face was solemn.
“Captain Argyll,” she said, “I really would like to learn. ”
TWELVE
Ancilla noted with pleasure that Seraphina no longer demurred about practising her music or closeting herself with her tutor the best part of every morning. Despite the social whirl and long rounds of balls, soirees and theatre outings, Seraphina's spirits never seemed to flag, and while most of the household was still abed, she would be stolidly practicing and playing and heaven knew what. At least, she no longer had a fit of the sullens at the mere mention of her music master.
Perhaps she was sobered by the prospect of becoming duchess to the handsome, awe-inspiring Rhaz. She must have decided that accomplishments would be a boon, after all. Whatever the reason, it was not uncommon now to pass the music room and hear strains of Purcell, Bach and Handel waft through the house. Other melodies, too, beautiful and poignant, but to Ancilla's limited knowledge unidentifiable. These, of course, were Frederick's own pieces, for he found in Miss Seraphina a soul mate and the pleasure of playing for her was unparalleled even by the pleasure of writing them.
Mr. Beckett had received his scribblings with gratifying eagerness and the works of Lord Frederick were fast gaining critical acclaim by anyone at all fashionable among the ton. Since Frederick, however, had removed himself from that set, he was not to know the impact he was making. Nor, in fact, did he particularly care, save for the overlarge purse that was posted his way with an entreaty from the normally reserved Mr. Becket for more. So the time passed, with Frederick writing by night and teaching by day. He did not know which aspect of his day he enjoyed more and it was a testament to Miss Seraphina's bounteous charms that he suspected it was the former.
Certainly, if Seraphina was not a virtuous young lady and he not an impeccable gentleman in all matters of the heart, he suspected that, had Miss Camfrey elected to distract him from his evening composition, he would not have taken it amiss.
Still, there were times when he was thoughtful, for Seraphina obviously still regarded him as a superior servant albeit attractive beyond belief. He watched her comings and goings with amusement tinged with resignation, for as society's latest success, she was inundated with morning callers, invitations to picnics (when it was fine), the opera, Drury Lane and the inevitable Almack's.
These outings she quite obviously relished, being in the throes of the first-season syndrome and not yet sophisticated enough to assume the mantle of boredom and languid ennui that was generally fashionably adopted by more seasoned members of the ton. Frederick could afford to be indulgent, for he was not mean-spirited enough to deny her her first pangs and pleasures of growing up. Understanding her soul, he felt certain that in the end she would be drawn to him like a moth to the flame, recognising in their mutual tranquillity a serenity that could not be gleaned from the dizzying heights and aspirations of the social whirl. He was prepared to wait for Seraphina to come to this self-knowledge herself, for forcing an issue of such magnitude could serve no good and was likely to drive a wedge between their ever growing joy in each other's company.
A week before the proposed trip to Huntingdon, Frederick gently instructed Seraphina on the best manner in which to manipulate the seven pedals at her feet. He watched as she concentrated fiercely and thought that he had never seen a lovelier sight than the faint lines that creased her brow as she practiced and the magnificent tendril that hung down her face like burnished gold reddened from a rosy sun. He longed to reach out and touch them, but instead contented himself with the surprise he had in store.
“Miss Seraphina, I took the liberty of inquiring of Pendleton what engagements you were likely to attend this evening.”
She allowed her fingers to arpeggio gracefully across the strings, delighting in the newfound skill that sent silvery notes humming through the room. Frederick nodded approvingly and waited for her response.
“Captain Argyll, tonight is the one night I have free! Cordelia is to attend a soiree with Lord Winthrop, but since I do not know his relations, I have not received an invitation. Cordelia said she could procure one for me, but I suspect it will be stuffy and deadly dull—you know what Winthrop is like, so one can only
speculate
on his relations!—so I beseeched her—indeed I
entreated
her—not to!” She ended her sentence on a slightly mischievous giggle. “I suspect poor Cordelia envied me, for she did not press the point as I had feared, but rather murmured that an evening at home would be charming.”
“I hope you do not share her sentiments?”
“That an evening at home would be charming?” She sparkled at him and he was hard-pressed not to kiss the living daylights out of her. “I think it will be
splendid!
”
“I am sorry to hear that, Miss Camfrey, for now I shall have to dispense with
these.
”He pulled from his unfashionably capacious pocket tickets to the little frequented Sandown Concert House, just short of Pall Mall.
Seraphina looked at them suspiciously. “What are those, Captain?”
“These are tickets to see a performance of Gluck's
Orpheus.
It was written principally for the harp, so I thought you might find it edifying. There is also to be a short performance of Johann Baptist Krumpholzt's harp concerto—number one, I think, though I am not perfectly certain on that score.”
“I don't believe I have heard either.”
“Possibly not, for they are relatively modern. Still, I believe you will find them intriguing.”
Seraphina's eyes shone. “I am certain I shall! Thank you, thank you, Captain!”
Frederick longed to hear his own name upon her lips. It was on the tip of his tongue to beg her to desist from all formality when he thought better of it. It would not do to be on first-name terms with a music master, and until he had established himself, he had no desire for his identity as an eligible peer to be revealed. So he smiled in a heart-stopping fashion and contented himself instead with the immeasurable joy of lifting Seraphina off her feet, swirling her high in the air and setting her down upon the Kidderminster with unbridled aplomb.
“You could break your back!”
“I have carried much heavier, I assure you.”
Seraphina cast a quick look at his iron-hard muscles and believed him. Her slight flush pleased Frederick, who believed that she was not entirely unreceptive to his charms. He waited for her breathing to subside a little before settling down in the padded mahogany armchair with its scrolled arms and twisted back rail. In truth, the comforts offered by its elegant red velvet upholstery were wasted on him, for his thoughts were firmly situated with the young lady who was taking the opposite seat.
“When do we leave?”
“We? Miss Seraphina, for shame! You cannot think I would invite you to a concert unchaperoned? The tickets, since Miss Cordelia is otherwise engaged, are for yourself and
Mrs.
Camfrey.”
Seraphina's face fell so endearingly that Frederick was caught between a chuckle and exultation, for the chit surely could not be indifferent to him if such was her reaction on the minor disappointment.
“Mama will not care for such an entertainment! She has told me
heaps
of times that concerts are deadly dull!”
“What a singularly uninformed parent! Perhaps I should educate
her,
too.”
“Oh, Captain, stop funning! Please escort me! It won't be half so”—she was going to say thrilling but wisely found another word—“educational.”
He shook his head and was so implacable on the matter that Seraphina grabbed a candlestick and was about to throw it wildly in his direction when Ancilla appeared.
“Seraphina! Set that down at once!” Her tone was uncharacteristically peremptory and her bright-eyed fledgling, so surprised, obeyed almost immediately.
“I am so sorry, Captain. I had forgotten, when I employed you, what a sore trial Seraphina can be. Don't scowl, child. If you wish to go on in society, you must learn to control your temper.”
Seraphina, her moods as changeable as the wind, drew her mother impulsively into the room and very prettily begged Frederick's pardon before explaining what utter “fustian and tommy rot” he'd been talking.
After she'd hurtled headlong into a list of all her grievances followed by several breathfuls on why Frederick would be the perfect escort, she peeked up at her mama and used age-old tricks to beguile her into being twisted round her little finger.
Very thoroughly done and the observant Frederick would either have applauded or spanked her for the excellent performance.
At the end of it, however, Ancilla's lips twitched and she gravely asked her daughter a few simple questions.
“Do I infer that I do not pass muster as a suitable companion for you, Seraphina?”
“You would be impossible, Mama! You are always so fidgety at recitals. Besides, Captain Argyll—”
“Refuses to escort you unchaperoned.” His clipped voice interpolated in no uncertain tone.
Ancilla looked at him thoughtfully and made her decision. “Captain Argyll, if you have better things to do with your evening I shall understand perfectly, for Seraphina is undoubtedly a handful and—”
“You
know
that is not the case, madame.” Frederick's voice was respectful but firm.
“In that case, may I not prevail upon you, Captain? In the ordinary way of things I agree it is most prudent to arrange a chaperone but the concert is for this evening and I am unfortunately promised to Lady Lewenthal. Cannot
you
escort this naughty little puss? I fear, if you refuse, she'll be up to all sorts of shocking tricks and then we
shall
be in the basket!”
“Oh please, Captain!”
Frederick still looked unconvinced, but after both females had made their case, cast beseeching eyes at him and practically insinuated that Seraphina could be in no danger from him due to his particular station in life, he allowed himself to be beguiled. This was not due to any weakness on his part, but because more than anything else in the world he
himself
wished for this time.
He rationalised the perverse breach of social conduct by reasoning that none among the haute ton would attend such a function when two major luminaries were having pre-Christmas balls on the same night. Further, as a male, he would offer more fitting protection to Seraphina, for Pall Mall at night was often less savoury than might be wished for. As an aside, he realised he did not know much about Sandown Concert House, save that it was housing these performances. It might be prudent, then, to attend, in the event of the venue for some reason proving unsuitable.
Lastly, if they
were
to be seen by anyone of Seraphina's acquaintance, the excursion could be explained away as a mere extension of formal lessons. There could be nothing amorous read into the connection of a young lady of good ton and a mere music master of lowly origin.
If he had been a fortune hunter or a . . . But, no, then he would have needed to be a peer of the realm at least and none save he and the duke knew that this,
precisely,
was what he was. With careful planning, Seraphina might attend her concert and not be compromised.
He nodded and sighed, but the unexpected joy that surged through his being could not altogether be ascribed to an overpowering desire to hear
Orpheus.
When the smile lurking in his soul finally made it to his lips, both ladies appeared equally delighted, for Ancilla was loath to forgo her engagement but too kind a mama to have made Seraphina miss out on her treat.
Seraphina was glowing and Ancilla gave her a quick hug, commenting that it was as well she attended, for as a duchess she would be expected to sponsor all
manner
of dreary events. Seraphina took her up on the word “dreary” but Captain Argyll stood stock-still, stunned as if all the wind had been knocked out of his powerful body.
He did not think it politic to question Ancilla too closely on her meaning, but he had to admit that, never once, in all Seraphina's undoubted whirl of gaiety, did he imagine or even consider that she might become betrothed. And to a duke, no less! He cast his mind over all the eligible—and ineligible—dukes that he knew of and came to the mystifying conclusion that none served the purpose. Mayhap he had forgotten some noble strand—he would have to consult Rhaz, who would naturally know such things.
Rhaz!
His heart stopped. The fifth Duke of Doncaster was clearly the most likely candidate, although everything in Frederick's being cried out against the possibility. Impossible, impossible, impossible! For one, they had often joked how their tastes ran to opposites—Frederick sweet, Rhaz savoury; Frederick mild, Rhaz spicy; Frederick walking, Rhaz riding . . . The list could go on forever.
Further, Rhaz was the most confirmed bachelor on the planet saving, of course, he himself. And yet . . . Had Rhaz not spoken of some new paragon? Frederick wished he had not indulged in quite so much of the duke's high-quality wines, for the life of him he could not remember what the fifth duke had hinted at that evening. His heart sank as he recalled Seraphina's fleeting reference to him the day they had had their first true music lesson.

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