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Authors: Hayley A. Solomon

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Both ladies were now looking at him in puzzlement, so he inferred that he must have missed something. Seraphina appeared as beautiful to him as ever, but now, unaccountably, more distant. He was surprised to find that despite the relative chill of the evening, for winter seemed on its way at last, his brow was hot and he had the sudden urge to loosen his already deplorably undertied cravat.
“Beg pardon!”
“Head in the clouds, Captain?” Seraphina smiled sweetly but there was a naughty chuckle at the back of her throat.
Frederick flashed her a grin that did not pass undetected by a thoughtful Ancilla. Still, when she repeated her unanswered question Frederick's mind turned immediately to the problem.
“
You
take the carriage, Mrs. Camfrey! I would not
dream
of depriving you of your conveyance.” He thought regretfully of his own well-sprung chaise stabled at Drummond and firmly put the notion out of his mind. “If Miss Camfrey is willing, I shall call up a hack.”
Ancilla nodded doubtfully. Cordelia would baulk at the expense, no doubt, but she could see no other way.
“I shall reimburse you, Captain, of course. Also, if I may, for the price of the tickets . . .”
Frederick's eyes flashed and he drew himself up a little taller, if possible. In the few seconds that elapsed, he forgot
entirely
that he was meant to be a penniless tutor forging a way for himself. His tone was authoritative and slightly tinged with a drawl as he turned on Ancilla and shook his head firmly. “You insult me, Mrs. Camfrey!”
Ancilla shook her head in confusion. “Indeed, Captain, I never meant—”
“Then no more shall be said on the matter or the whole enterprise shall be shelved.” Frederick's voice was stern and his fine lips were drawn up in an uncompromisingly straight line.
Seraphina looked on him in horror but Ancilla, after raising her brows slightly, shrugged and smiled.
“Then I shall have to thank you, Captain!”
He looked slightly mollified and bowed. “Believe me when I say the pleasure is entirely mine, Mrs. Camfrey!”
She nodded, but long after the duo had returned to their lessons she looked after them consideringly. The strangest suspicion had entered her head. . . .
 
 
Orpheus
was better than Seraphina might have imagined. She watched as a bewitching lady with round, dimpled arms gave life to the performance, her feet tapping at the seven pedals with splendid ease. Her dress was cut uncomfortably low and upon her head were sparkling gems of red and green, entwined in a heavy coronet of gilded silver. Her cheeks, to Seraphina's obvious delight and Frederick's stern disapproval, were well tinged with paint. There could be no question that the young lady in question was not quite respectable, but what did it matter? She played like an angel and Seraphina was transported.
By the light of several glittering candles liberally placed around her instrument, she played at first solo and then as a tinkling refrain in concert with the orchestra.
When her eyes could be dragged from the performance, Seraphina noticed that she was possibly alone in her appreciation of the music. Several young bucks were undoubtedly appreciative, but the direction of their glances caused her to blush crimson and cast her eyes up to Frederick, who was looking grimmer and grimmer by the moment. A few calls to the stage and several of the gentlemen threw hats in the air, or roses, or . . . yes, Seraphina could see it clearly: baubles and trinkets that glittered like stars in the candlelight.
Several times the player almost stumbled on the chords or missed her beat, but she plucked bravely on, even managing a roguish glance now and then when some
particularly
candid comment was audible above her efforts.
Seraphina, however, grew crosser and crosser, her enjoyment of the evening quite spoiled by the incivility and lack of attention—or
appropriate
attention—that the young lady was receiving. She noticed that Frederick had drawn her closer, and whilst this offered no end of distraction in itself, a particularly loud comment from the gentleman behind her caused her to turn around and hiss, “Be silent, sir, if you please!”
What a commotion such a simple comment caused! Seraphina was not to know that the auburn wisps of her hair were a veritable temptation to even the most self-controlled of men, that the demure gown of white silk studded in pearls and offering a faint hint, through translucent gauze fichu, of unspeakable delights, could act as such a powerful stimulant to the already brighteyed audience.
She was soon to learn, however, for the roar of the audience formerly focused on the gifted harpist now turned upon her. Frederick noticed her quiver and tremble, her brow uncustomarily suffused in an embarrassed flush. He could have
kicked
himself for taking her to such a place, albeit in honest ignorance.
He leaned towards her and bade her edge her way out of the building. The silvery strains of the harp were complemented by cello and flute, but Seraphina had stopped listening. She stood up and Frederick draped the heavy folds of his greatcoat around her. She had been surprised at its elegance, for the masterful work of Scott was evident in the understated capes that hung in perfect precision from the shoulders. When she'd taxed Frederick on it, however, he had looked vaguely uncomfortable and turned the subject, so the matter of the greatcoat still lay between them. Or rather, on Seraphina, wholly obscuring the magnificence of her gown. She had so much wanted to look her best for the evening, and here she was, miserably being bundled out of the theatre in a greatcoat three times too large for her slender, waiflike body.
“Miss Seraphina, my heartfelt apologies! It was abominable of me to have subjected you to such . . . such . . .” Frederick glared but was at a loss for words.
“You were not to know, Captain! Besides, I
did
enjoy the music! The lady was passing accomplished, was she not?”
Lord Frederick would, in former times, have heartily agreed. He might even have blithely set her up as one of his ladybirds, for the creature was indeed as talented as she was . . . He glossed over this thought, for Seraphina was staring at him with wide, innocent and damnably fascinated eyes.
So he snorted instead and muttered that the lady's accomplishments were not of the brand he had anticipated. Seraphina, not so green as everyone thought, did not press him to explain, for his meaning would have been obvious even to a sapskull like Winthrop. She coloured a little and pulled the greatcoat closer against both the biting cold—surely snow was in the air?—and as protection, for her light gown was surely not made for walking up and down the streets of Pall Mall in the dark.
Frederick suppressed another curse, for the unsuitableness of their situation was not lost on him. He had arranged a hackney coach for the expiration of their concert, but since they had left the theatre early, there was little alternative but to walk, for waiting was unthinkable and there was not a single hack about for hire in the less fashionable Pellington Street off Pall Mall. Of course, when they approached the centre . . . But no! What a half-wit he was! If Seraphina was recognised with him, she would be ruined!
Much better by far to turn around and head towards the Thames. The walk would be longer but the chances of curious eyes far less. Better yet, Rhaz's town residence. . . But no! The Dowager Duchess of Doncaster was probably still haunting the place. She would fall into fits if he were to arrive with Seraphina. Especially, he thought rather dourly, if Seraphina was
indeed
intended for Rhaz.
No, he would take her quickly down to the wharf, where there was always a hack for hire. From there it would be but a short distance back to Melden Terrace. He prayed that no one would pay too much attention to the caped figure at his side. She was shapeless in his greatcoat, but her features remained magnificent nonetheless and that hair could be the death of them. Too beautiful by far!
He turned the startled Seraphina swiftly round and began pacing away from the city centre. He took good care to keep to the roadside, second nature by breeding but also by good sense. If a carriage should happen to rumble by it would be
he
that they first saw, rather than the fair Seraphina.
He tucked her arm firmly in his, for he felt very protective all of a sudden and, despite all his years on the Peninsula, more than slightly vulnerable. His step matched Seraphina's so exactly that he was certain that they were two people in perfect concert. He smiled a little to himself at this whimsicality. A concert of the soul. He wondered if Seraphina felt it. He looked at her and her eyes were shining so brilliantly he had to conclude she did. The walk—despite its odious necessity—would remain in his memory always.
THIRTEEN
The new gas lamps flickered a dim yellow for fifty yards or more before stopping as abruptly as they had started, several paces back from the entrance to the narrow, cobbled street that would wind its way down to the river. Frederick hoped that its very narrowness would serve to deter unwieldy coaches. In this way, their unchaperoned amble was less likely to raise brows. Still, the streets were now dark, the moonless sky verging on pitch-black, and he wondered whether he should, after all, have kept to more reputable thoroughfares.
Seraphina had no such qualms. The evening, to her, was magical. The strains of the harp still lingered in her ears, and though the spectacle had not been quite what she had expected or what, in fact, she ought to have witnessed, it did not detract from her enjoyment one jot. Further, the unprecedented chance of having her tutor all to herself in such heady circumstances was quite intoxicating. She peeped up at him from beneath her abundant auburn lashes. All she could see was his shoulder and sleeve, but that sight was in itself pleasurable, since the good captain obviously had no need or use for padding or artifice.
His dress was more debonair than usual, strictly military in style—deep, shadowy blue with silver epaulettes and matching buttons. Beneath his waistcoat she could detect an elegant gold seal and fob, though she blushed to look more closely. His pantaloons were a perfect fit and therefore quite unmentionable to a lady of good upbringing. Nevertheless, there was no law precluding her noticing and notice she did. Perhaps Frederick felt her stare upon him, for his grip tightened and the glance he threw her was not wholly servile like in nature.
Seraphina smiled up at him and he felt the breath knocked out of his very experienced, entirely masculine body. He was dizzied at the effect Seraphina had, given the fact that he was himself no greenhorn among the fairer sex. She was more beautiful than anyone he had ever encountered, but the attraction was more substantial than that. She understood his music and therefore his soul stripped bare. He understood her wiles and her mischief—had he not those self-same impulses deep within himself? And the attraction—that was no wishful imagining! He would wager all his quarterly earnings and more that she was as compelled as he.
The stars twinkled in the deep, dark sea of sky. Their lustre was reflected in Seraphina's eyes as she looked at him, missing a step as she did so. He helped her correct her balance, pulling closed the greatcoat that had opened during the stumble. He trembled a little at the sight that greeted him. Pure white on delicate cream, her pearls shimmering and dancing like a veritable constellation of heavenly stars.
“Angel, my angel,” he breathed before setting her to rights.
“Beg pardon?” The words were forced from Seraphina, who felt so breathless she thought she might well fall into a faint of sheer pleasure.
The captain shook his head and smiled. “Do you stargaze, Miss Seraphina?” He wished to steer her onto safer subjects and recover the distance that suddenly seemed to have been dangerously bridged.
“Stargaze? You mean with a telescope?”
Frederick nodded, watching her with interest. Most women would have assumed he meant vaguely looking up at a velvety sky and noticing the orbs of light that reflected back from the heavens in a meaningless cascade of twinkling illumination.
“Never, Captain!” Her tone was wistful, so Frederick decided to probe further as their feet brought them ever closer to their destination.
“Do you wish to?”
She nodded. “I was a sloth at the boring old globes, but I have to admit I have an interest in the heavens.”
“Perhaps because of your name.”
“Beg pardon?”
“ Seraph. Angel.”
The words, from his lips, were an intimate caress. Seraphina tried to hold his gaze but could not. The moment passed when he chuckled softly and asked her why she was such a sloth.
She coloured ruefully. “Detestable governesses! They forever prosed on about the terrestrial and celestial orbs just precisely when I wished to play truant in the meadows! ”
“You must have been a devil to teach!”
“You know firsthand, Captain!”
He nodded gravely, then reduced her quick remorse with a merry grin that she only just detected in the heady darkness. She tightened her arm on his sleeve and they walked on in companionable silence. This was first broken by Seraphina, who was curious as to the personality and habits of the handsome stranger who was rapidly capturing her heart.
“Do you stargaze, Captain?”
He nodded. “In Spain, the skies were pitch-dark and frequently, whilst we were waiting for a battle to be fought or nursing our wounds, we would look up from our truckle beds or even just the haystacks or plain earth we were lying on and gaze intently. Somewhere along the way I procured a little telescope and interested myself in the pure science of the thing.”
“Science? I have never regarded the sky in that light.”
Frederick smiled. “Most don't, my dear, but astronomy is rapidly progressing, and for those fortunate enough to catch nightly glimpses of Saturn, the excitement is palpable.”
“I can imagine! Saturn, if I recall, is the farthest planet known to man.”
“Now that is where you are mistaken!”
Seraphina blushed for her ignorance and wished she had paid more attention to the rambling of the hated Miss Werstead. The captain, however, more aware of the bouncy young thing at his side than any of the town-bronzed, ripely seductive vixens he'd ever had truck with, noticed her dejection and shook his head.
“This time the fault is not yours, Seraphina! I daresay all the celestial globes have it wrong!”
“How so, Captain?”
“A passing acquaintance of mine—fellow named Herschel—has furthered the world's body of knowledge in an extraordinary way.”
“In what manner?” Seraphina's eyes lighted up with interest. Captain Argyll's knowledge, it seemed, extended a lot further than the sphere of music. She was fascinated to explore him—and his wisdom—further.
“Do not look at me so, Miss Seraphina! You disturb my senses.”
She coloured and Frederick's wide, sensuous mouth snapped shut. He had said too much! Far more than what was within the bounds of gallantry. But there, he was not, in his current role, even
meant
to be gallant! Seraphina could well take up his comment and label it an impertinence or worse.
She did not. Her feet, delicately slippered in a delectably unsuitable confection for the walk they were currently engaged in, slowed almost to a halt but did not stop. Instead, they ambled seductively alongside him as if loath to reach the quay that was their final destination. Her deep sapphire eyes were almost luminous, for his own had suitably adjusted to the dark and were now glancing sideways at hers with unusual intensity.
“Sir William Herschel discovered, some years ago, that the sun has one
more
planet slowly orbiting the dark space we choose to call our heavens.”
“Truly? Beyond Saturn?”
He nodded firmly. “Beyond Saturn, Seraphina. He thought it a comet, at first, but we now know that what he saw was our farthest planet. He called it after His Majesty, but it is now more commonly known as Uranus. King George appointed him king's astronomer and he has discovered more still since then. Uranus is orbited by two moons and he has recently uncovered two new moons circling our old friend Saturn. Since he is still stargazing, who knows what next he will uncover? His son Frederick is at it, too, I might add. He has found that so many of our stars are actually
double
stars, orbiting each other. Sometimes I hope, with my small scope, to rival them. Another planet perhaps?” He looked at her rather ruefully. “Unlikely, but not impossible! Sir William discovered Uranus with a ten-inch scope. Mine is a mere four, but still I gaze with excited anticipation most clear, dark nights. Odd, is it not?”
“Wonderful! You are a man of so many facets! I never dreamed . . .” Seraphina fell into an embarrassed silence but his lordship was too astute to miss her meaning. His tone was therefore gentle as he pointed out two hackney coaches waiting for hire at the edge of the icy, lapping waters of London's largest river.
He was just raising his hand to indicate that he required one of its services when a queer little man in a striped waistcoat and perilously purple pants puffed up to the quay. He took out his quizzing glass and muttered something to Frederick about his prime little piece. Frederick found himself in an instant's quandary. Sir Archibald Huffington was one of those seedy people forever hanging on to the fringes of the ton. He was tolerated for his eccentricity, his enormous wealth and the sad fact that half of London was in his debt in one way or another. The man had a vicious tongue and an even more vicious temper. Several slightly nastier things were whispered about him in select circles, but since nothing was ever proven, Sir Huffington was permitted to remain.
Now the vile man was ogling Seraphina in the most
odious
way and offering Frederick an advance to take “the goods off him.” Seraphina opened her pretty little mouth to formulate the most
scathing
of replies, but Frederick stopped her with a peremptory gesture. If Sir Archibald heard her speak, he would know he was mistaken in his first surmise. He would know Seraphina was quality born, and as sure as the sun rose every day in the sky, he would make ample use of that knowledge, either by blackmail or by the spread of the delectable gossip that was yet
another
reason why the old tabbies tolerated him.
Frederick knew that neither scenario would suit. He therefore looked Sir Archibald in the eye, lifted his fist and planted such a facer across the surprised man's face that even as he landed in a paltry, snivelling heap at their feet, his expression was so ludicrous as to make Seraphina chuckle. The hackney coach riders, just making out the debacle in the faint mists that were rising up from the waters, saw fit to applaud and Frederick cast an indulgent grin their way.
But what was to become of Sir Archibald? Left to his own devices, he would undoubtedly either call Frederick out—for in his bold, military-style evening dress he had recognised him as the gentleman he was—or he would piece together who
Seraphina
was and make his angel's life a living hell. Accordingly, Frederick, ever a muscular man of action, ordered Seraphina to turn her back.
She refused so indignantly that he thought better of arguing with her in a public street and shrugged his fine shoulders in resignation. So long as the chit had the sense to keep herself covered in the folds of his greatcoat, he wished to waste no more time. Besides, he reluctantly admired her spunk. Any other gently bred female would surely have taken the opportunity of swooning at this point.
Accordingly, he reached over to the spluttering, dazzled and bruised Sir Archibald and placed his hands in the man's capacious pockets. When he produced a decanter of Burgundy from the lined pocket inside of his garb, he nodded his head in satisfaction. Then the rumours were true! He did not feel any surprise. Sir Archibald's addiction to salubrious liquids had been hinted at often enough—he had just never really stopped to care.
Sir Archibald was making a pathetic attempt at reviving himself. His eyes swivelled from Frederick to Seraphina, and in that cunning glance, Frederick knew for certain he had no choice. Unhesitatingly he unstopped the bottle and placed it firmly to Sir Archibald's lips. The man protested, for an instant, then gave himself up to the intoxicating aroma that assailed his nostrils. A little more gently then, Frederick proceeded to pour the entire contents down his gullet until all that could be seen of the man was purple pantaloons across a cobbled street. Seraphina stared at Frederick and shivered.
She had no idea he could be so forceful—such a gentle man he had always seemed to be. Then she remembered the firmness of his jaw and the quiet, authoritarian tone he used only when she was making a
particularly
foolish cake of herself. Captain Argyll was acting entirely in character, and though his actions were dubious and possibly debatable, Seraphina applauded him loudly in her head.
The clapping was echoed on the wharf, for the two curious hackney coach drivers had drawn ever closer at this unusual interlude in their evening. They were used to common brawls, of course, but the two men—well, certainly the victor—were clearly gentleman. When Frederick rather shortly ordered one of them to bundle the “sadly inebriated gentleman” into a hack, the larger of the two grinned broadly and admitted he would be “much obliged” especially as the order was accompanied by a quite satisfactory coin of inducement.
Frederick racked his brain for the man's unfashionable address. Somewhere near Kensington, if he recalled. One of the older buildings . . . Lord Caxton had once spent several months in that vicinity on a repairing lease. He closed his eyes, concentrating. At last, his efforts were rewarded. Remembering, he mouthed out the place and bade the hack farewell. The second driver's eyes now turned to Seraphina and for an instant Frederick debated the necessity of coshing him over the head as well. The man took one startled glance his way and became quite humbly servile, even offering to open the doors of the chaise for her.

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