Rescuing the Duke (Regency Romance) (Regency Tales Book 9) Page 3

  The rest of the journey was occupied with singing, as the ladies tested Georgiana on her knowledge of the music they would be performing during their engagement. Georgiana knew some of them, but not all, so she paid particular attention to the tunes so she would be able to play the accompaniment. Music had been the talent which had pleased the headmistress the most and Georgiana had always been called upon to employ her talents when the school presented recitals. Fortunately, she had an ear for music and was confident that, although there was no sheet music for the songs she’d be playing, she would be able to play from memory. Delighted to be her tutors, the women robustly sang the songs repeatedly until Georgiana was confident of the tunes.

  “A little practice never hurts, does it, girls?” Marie called out after the rousing chorus of one song had ended.

  “There are some things that don’t need practice,” Celeste replied.

  “Aye, but those things come natural,” Marie agreed.

  The women shrieked with laughter and Georgiana joined in. This kind of practice was much more enjoyable than the time spent with Monsieur Delacorte, who was fond of employing a ruler on the back of the knuckles if the unlucky student played a wrong note.

  The stagecoach pulled to a stop and the coachman opened the door. “Here we are, ladies. His Lordship said to bring you straight to the castle doorstop.”

  “It’s such a blessing to be working with gentlemen,” sighed Solange. “They understand how to please a girl.”

  The coachman eyed Georgiana. “Are you getting off at this stop, miss?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m with them.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Course she’s sure!” said Marie emphatically. “She’s our piano player.”

  “Very well then, I’ll leave you to your work. I’m to pick you up again tomorrow afternoon. Here comes the footmen; they’ll be bringing your baggage up to the house.” He tipped his hat to the ladies, gave Georgiana a doubtful glance, and then climbed back onto the stagecoach, his work done.

  FIVE

  The castle was very grand. Georgiana had been in fine homes before, but she had never been in a estate of such magnificence. The entrance hall where the footmen led them was enormous; rich mahogany-panelled walls created a sense of solemnity to the room, which was lined with what Georgiana assumed were family portraits.

  Presently, a butler appeared. He was younger than most of the butlers that Georgiana had encountered, and he welcomed the ladies with an expression which seemed not at all butlerish to her eyes.

  “Well, ladies, on behalf of the Duke of Eanverness, I bid you welcome. No doubt you are quite hungry after your journey, and you will want to eat. Maisie here will take you to your rooms; you’ll be on the second floor. There is an empty gallery no longer in use; you will be able to dress there for the performance tonight. Your baggage has been delivered there. I trust that you will all eat heartily, ladies. The gentlemen will be expecting an energetic performance.”

  The women tittered at the butler’s pleasantry.

  “Not bad-looking,” commented Celeste. “I wouldn’t mind performing for him.”

  “It’s gents only tonight,” Marie scoffed, poking her companion with her elbow. “Don’t you be mixing with the servants now, do you hear me?”

  This sally evoked another cascade of laughter from the others. They were definitely the most cheerful group that Georgiana had met. Perhaps working for one’s daily bread was actually pleasurable. It was something to consider, Georgiana thought. She wondered how much money ladies could earn playing the piano for gentlemen’s private entertainment.

  Within an hour, the footmen had arrived bearing heaping trays of food. “Although I realise that ladies have delicate appetites,” said the butler as he led them into the chamber where tables and chairs had been placed, “the gentlemen do not, and we wouldn’t want any of you dainty damsels to be overcome by exhaustion later on tonight.”

  Raucous merriment greeted this remark. “No need to worry ‘bout us, guv’nor. We’ve got staying power, don’t we girls?”

  Georgiana smiled along as the others succumbed to mirth following this remark, but she was puzzled. How much piano playing and singing would be expected of the entertainment? The songs that she’d be playing were lively, that was true, but still, they were only songs.

  “Excuse me, sir,” she said to the butler. “I should very much like to practice before the performance. Is there a piano that I might use?”

  “Of course, miss,” said the butler, eyeing her curiously.

  “After you’ve eaten, Lucas will show you to the music room. You won’t be disturbed there while you practice.” His tone changed; the jocularity was gone and replaced by polite deference. It was very odd.

  But Georgiana, like the others, was hungry; their hasty luncheon had been both brief and limited, and she, like the others, was eager to enjoy the cold meats, hot soup, cheeses, and fruits which the footmen had delivered. The ladies pronounced the wine first rate.

  “To tonight’s performance! May it be all that the gentlemen require!” toasted Marie. “Mind, girls, go easy on this. We don’t want any of you to be tipsy tonight and not able to perform.”

  “That would just mean more work for the rest of us,” Celeste replied. “Remember, at our last performance, they was quite generous with their appreciation. One gentleman gave me a guinea; he did, and said he’d never enjoyed such entertainment before.”

  “What song did you sing to?” Georgiana asked innocently. “Shall I play it tonight?”

  “Bless you, child, this was later in the evening, after the performance. The Lord in question wanted me to . . . sing for him private-like. The gentlemen like that.” She smiled kindly at Georgiana, although the other women were giggling.

  The ladies decided that they were going to nap before the performance got underway, so Georgiana followed the footman downstairs to the music room. The room was bathed in soft sunlight that spread a pale, delicate covering over the furniture, which was clearly not designed for gentlemen.

  “This is a lovely room,” Georgiana said.

  “Yes, miss. The Duchess of Eanverness spent much time in here when she was alive; she was quite fond of music.”

  “Is the Duke of Eanverness a widower?”

  “No, ma’am. Lady Eanverness was his mother; his lordship is a bachelor.”

  “Perhaps the music will remind him of his mother, and bring him pleasant memories, then,” Georgiana said as she made her way to the corner of the room. The pianoforte was out of the sunlight but close enough to benefit from the illumination that dominated the space.

  “I—yes, ma’am,” the footman said, peering at her in bewilderment. “If you need anything, you can ring and one of the maids will see to it.

  “I shall be fine, thank you. I just want to practice before tonight. I don’t want to make any mistakes and embarrass the others.”

  “I shouldn’t worry, miss. I doubt if anyone would notice.”

  “Are the guests not very musical, then?” That was a pity. It was better to play for an assembly of people who liked to listen.

  The footman’s broad grin vanished as he studied her. Georgiana did not realise that she looked very much like the schoolgirl she had been, in her simple attire. “Not very, miss,” he said finally. “But they’ll appreciate your playing, that I can promise you.”

  Georgiana’s smile was genuine and breathtaking. “Thank you for saying that, it’s very kind.”

  Lucas, the footman, left shaking his head. Innocent as a daisy, she was. Anyone could tell that. She wouldn’t be innocent for long, not after tonight. It wasn’t like the Duke to cater to that sort of fancy; when he had his entertainments for his friends, the ladies were always women of the profession who knew exactly what was expected of them. He wondered which of the Duke’s hard-running friends had requested the services of an innocent. They were a rum lot, no mistake. What the old Duke would have thought of his fine castle being used t
o host such a party of drinking and vice, Lucas couldn’t guess.

  The Duke wasn’t a bad master to the staff; if truth were told, he was more generous than the old Duke. But he did like his amusements and he was rich enough to enjoy those amusements at home, rather than having to go to London to procure them as other members of the gentry were obliged to do.

  Poor thing, she was in for a surprise. The guests might be gentlemen by birth, but from what the servants had seen, they were not gentlemen by conduct. Although to be fair, Lucas acknowledged to himself, as he went back upstairs to take away the trays, the women who provided the entertainment for the evening weren’t paid for their time because they sipped tea and ate cucumber sandwiches.

  Georgiana, blissfully unaware of the speculation that her presence had occasioned, began to play. She made her way through the songs that the women had sung to her, practicing until she was able to play the tunes without error. They were cheerful, hearty songs, the kind that people like to sing along to, and she was sure that the guests would enjoy that. But then she began to play the music that was more familiar to her, the songs of the favourite composers whose music she treasured. She had been playing these songs for years and as her fingers moved along the keys, she forgot that she was playing in a strange place, that she had run away from an unwelcome marriage, and that she had no notion of what the future held. She just played, unaware that, although the door to the music room was closed, she had an audience of one.

  The Duke had returned from riding and as he entered the entrance hall and was handing his gloves and hat to the butler, he heard lovely strains of music emanating from the music room, which had not been in use since his mother’s death a decade before. He gave Rivensley, the butler, a quizzical look.

  “It’s the pianist for tonight’s entertainment, sir,” the butler explained, his face revealing nothing.

  “Indeed? Surely an unwonted show of talent from an unexpected source?”

  “The pianist is herself an unexpected sort of girl,” Rivensley agreed.

  “Oh?’

  But Rivensley, not quite sure himself of what he wanted to say, chose to be silent.

  The Duke lingered in the hall. The playing was exquisite; he remembered in years past how his mother had always been called upon to play at their own entertainments and when they were guests elsewhere. This unknown musician played with the same passionate abandon that his mother had exhibited on the keys, an almost wild, yet controlled, mastery of the tune that conjured all the nuances of the notes which the composer had embedded while succumbing to the overall seduction of song. It was a most enchanting performance.

  The Duke wondered, as he glanced through the calling cards on the salver, whether the delightful musician displayed similar artistry in other forms of entertainment. If so, he intended to enjoy those skills himself when the music was over and the real entertainment began in the night to follow.

  SIX

  There was a brief period of silence when Georgiana emerged from the dressing room. She had decided to wear one of the new dresses that had been made for her upon her return to her stepfather’s home. It was a beautiful dress, she thought; a rich shade of garnet that she felt flattered the golden highlights in her brown hair. The bodice, with its high waist, was not so low in front, but it was sufficiently revealing to allow her to present herself as an adult woman and not a schoolgirl. The short, puffed sleeves had white insets which matched the narrow white stripes separating the rich folds of garnet satin.

  “Is it not appropriate?” Georgiana asked when her entrance was greeted with silent. “It’s the best gown I own and I wanted to wear something which would do justice to your performance.”

  The women had not yet begun to dress for the performance. Marie put her finger to her lips in thought. “I do believe,” she said slowly, “that it’s just the thing.”

  “She looks quite elegant,” said Celeste doubtfully.

  “Yes . . . yes she does. It adds a bit of surprise. The gentlemen will like that very much. You’re a very pretty thing, Lizzie. Now you let Solange here do your hair and then you go downstairs. I think it will make a better beginning for our performance if you are seated at the piano, dressed like the lady that you are, when we enter.”

  Georgiana was very willing to let Solange do her hair. In no time at all, Georgiana felt her thick mane of hair transformed into plump ringlets, which Solange then pulled back from her head so that they trailed down her neck in a neat riot. “It’ll be out of your way while you’re playing, love, and it lets everyone see what a lovely neck you have.”

  “You’re very clever,” Georgiana marvelled as she looked at herself in the mirror. “I scarcely recognise myself.”

  Solange patted Georgiana on her shoulder. “You’re a pretty young girl with no regrets,” she said. “Enjoy that.”

  It seemed an odd comment. How did Solange know whether or not Georgiana had regrets? She certainly regretted having had to spend an entire decade at school, apart from everything that was familiar and separated from relatives who might have looked out for her.

  But that was in the past. Ahead was an exciting future.

  “Shall I go down now?”

  “Yes, that’s perfect. Go down and sit at the piano, all neat and trim as you are. When the footman opens the door, you begin playing that song we taught you. You remember it, ‘Gentlemen Love the Ladies’?

  “Yes, I remember. The fast one. I’ll play that as soon as the door opens.”

  Georgiana went down the staircase where Lucas the footman was standing at the foot of the staircase. She explained to him that she was to be waiting at the piano when the ladies began their performance, so she’d like to go in now.

  Lucas led her into a large room where furniture had been cleared away from the centre so that there was an empty space. The piano was at one end of the room. At the other end was an assortment of comfortable chairs, not yet occupied. Between each pair of chairs was a small, marble-topped table upon which stood a decanter of something to drink. It was unusual, Georgiana thought as she sat down on the piano bench, for a musical performance to be put on exclusively for gentlemen, especially when the footman had indicated that they were not of a musical bent. Still, she was being paid to play the piano and if she hoped to adopt professional habits, she must learn to acclimate herself to the tastes of her audience.

  The footmen began admitting gentlemen into the room as they arrived. No one noticed her, tucked away as she was behind the grand piano. It was a pity, she thought, when she’d dressed with such care so that she could create the appropriate setting for the performance, that no one saw her, but what mattered was that they would hear her.

  Within twenty minutes, the room was filled with young men. Some sat down right away and drinks were poured for them by the attendant footmen who moved in and out of the throng as if they had practiced a ballet. Other men stood in groups, talking and laughing. The mood seemed to be one of anticipation; Georgiana could sense it. Once or twice a gentleman would glance over at the piano but she was invisible to them, even with the lamp carefully arranged so that its shadow did not fall upon her.

  Voices grew quiet when a man stood in front of them, his back to Georgiana. “Gentlemen,” he said in a splendid baritone that told Georgiana that he must have a fine singing voice. She could see a wealth of dark hair and a stylish coat and pantaloons but had no idea what the audience was viewing. “I welcome you to our performance tonight. As you know, our entertainers are fully versed in the more exotic arts and are, you may be assured, capable of sating any and all of your particular pleasures. They are also, I assure you . . . quite clean.”

  How odd that sounded, Georgiana thought to herself. These gentlemen must have very particular standards for their musical satisfaction. She hoped that she would be able to meet their expectations with her playing. At any rate, she was definitely clean. What a strange requisite to make, nonetheless.

  “After spending the night with Cupid’s sirens,
you will not have to fear that you have been visited by one of his more virulent arrows. As usual, the chambers upstairs are made ready for the entertainment to follow.”

  A hearty round of applause greeted this information. Georgiana could hear the clinking of glass as the gentlemen took their refreshment, some shouting out a toast to Eanverness. He seemed to be a very attentive host, having seen so carefully to the preferences of his guests.

  The Duke bowed to his guests, more laughter. Then he raised his arm, and Lucas the footman opened the door. That was Georgiana’s cue, and she heeded it, striking the keys with all the vigour that the song required. She detected the sounds of movement and knew that the women were entering. She heard their voices singing lustily, and she knew that they were in the room.

  It sounded as though they were dancing as they sang. Georgiana peered around the lid of the piano. What she saw nearly caused her fingers to come to a halt on the keys.

  They were wearing—more to the point, what they were not wearing—Georgiana saw stockinged legs and frilly skirts that flew up into the air with their dance moves, revealing far more underneath than Georgiana would have thought possible. But they weren’t merely dressed indecorously below the waist; what was showing above the waistline was something that the deportment mistress at school had told the girls should only be viewed by their husband and their lady’s maid.

  Georgiana’s skill did not desert her; she continued to play as the women danced and sang, but she was truly shocked. Nothing in her nineteen years had prepared her for such a scene, or for such a reaction. The gentlemen were clapping enthusiastically and calling out encouragement that, as nearly as she could tell, seemed to be promoting more movement so that more unmentionable items of clothing would be compromised, permitting more flesh to show.