Love's Refrain Read online

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“Yes. She’s quite knowledgeable about the arts.”

  “Amelia and my sister Desiree have heard her sing. They say she’s quite wonderful. And I know you love to attend the theater. Have you taken the Montgomery sisters to Covent Garden?”

  “Not yet. I suggested it during our ride. Lady Laura seemed excited at the prospect, but Lady Miranda wasn’t eager to attend a performance of Macbeth. Said the story was too distressing.”

  Phillip sat back and turned a stern eye toward his friend. “It would seem, old friend, that you are courting the wrong sister.”

  Andrew’s mind whirled. Courting the wrong sister? Court Laura? She wasn’t even a part of the marriage market. She was Lady Miranda’s chaperone, not a debutante. Though she was a young and pleasant-looking chaperone.

  He knew she had a kind heart. She listened to him when he talked, and she appreciated the same things he did.

  Perhaps Phillip’s idea had merit.

  Chapter Six

  Laura adjusted the skirt of her muslin dress and settled into her seat. She tried not to look at the gentleman entering the row ahead of her and to the right. Lord Covington assisted his mother as she sat and then took the chair on the outside of the row.

  The sisters had received an invitation to attend a private concert at the home of Lady Hamilton, who had sponsored a young pianist about to embark on his professional career. Laura had been eager to go, but Miranda had been reluctant. She’d agreed only when she had learned the pianist was young and quite handsome.

  Laura sat up in her seat as the pianist, a Mister Randall, approached the piano. She had heard reports of this man’s dazzling technique and expressiveness. Mister Randall bowed deeply then settled on the bench, placed his hands on the keys, and closed his eyes in concentration. He then launched into a new sonata of his own composition.

  The first movement, as in most sonatas, began with a stately theme, reminiscent of a royal fanfare. Laura, an accomplished pianist herself, wavered between awe and envy for Mister Randall’s fine technique. His scales were even and precise, yet the melody was flowing and lyrical. It was a true testament to the genius of the composer, as well as the virtuosity of the performer.

  The pianist finished the first movement of the sonata with a flourish and waited for the echoes of the last chord to die away before beginning the second movement. This section was slower, more melancholy, as if the pianist mourned the loss of someone dear. Laura marveled at the musician’s ability to play the phrases so smoothly. She leaned forward, entranced, as the pianist coaxed the velvety tones from the instrument. But someone’s constant movement to her left intruded upon her enjoyment.

  Beside her, Miranda fidgeted in her seat. To be fair, the chairs were a bit uncomfortable, and Laura knew she would be glad when the intermission came so she could stretch her legs. But Miranda’s fussing was far more than the uncomfortable seats warranted. She turned to her stepsister, unsure how she would be able to communicate a warning to her. But the sight she beheld filled her with horror.

  Miranda wasn’t wiggling from discomfort. She was engaged in a silent conversation with her friend, Lady Lucinda Warren — pantomiming, gesturing, making faces. Lady Lucinda had already gained a reputation as a troublesome debutante who liked to flaunt convention and push the limits of acceptable behavior. Laura had often worried about the girl’s influence on Miranda.

  Laura discreetly nudged her sister, who ignored her. She nudged again, harder. Finally, Miranda turned to her, an angry scowl marring her beautiful face. Laura simply shook her head, warning of her improper behavior. The reprimand was met with a toss of Miranda’s dark head, arms crossed. Laura pressed her fingers to her forehead, trying to massage away the ache she felt whenever having to deal with her sister’s stubbornness. She allowed the tranquil music to calm her.

  Too soon, the slow movement ended and the pianist took a moment to prepare for the final movement of the sonata. This time, he launched into a spirited gigue, and the cheerfulness brought to mind a lively country dance.

  The piece ended to thunderous applause, and Laura clapped enthusiastically then stood as the rest of the audience did. Sensing Miranda’s movement at her side, she followed her toward the refreshment table.

  “Miranda, I know you don’t enjoy these events as much as I do, but you must show some decorum.”

  “I’m showing as much decorum as I can. Listening to this music is absolutely painful,” groused Miranda. “I couldn’t have borne another moment of it. I’m going to talk to Lucinda. Maybe she’ll have an idea how to escape this dreadful evening.” Without another word, she flounced away.

  “It appears your young charge has a mind of her own,” a deep baritone rumbled from her right.

  Laura gasped in surprise and colored as she realized what the earl might have overheard. “I — er, please forgive Miranda’s manners,” she hedged. “I imagine she is upset about her own mother not being here to accompany her.”

  “Possibly. Or it could be she was never encouraged to appreciate fine music. How is it her tastes differ so greatly from her sister’s?”

  “My father married Miranda’s mother only twelve years ago. My own mother was an accomplished musician, and my father, Lord Norwood, loved whatever made her happy. Er, did you wish to speak with Lady Miranda? I shall fetch her—”

  He reached out and caught her arm, and she froze at the contact, shocked at the jolt of awareness coursing through her arm.

  “That’s not necessary, Lady Laura. I’m sure Lady Miranda would rather converse with her own friends than an elderly gentleman like me.”

  Laura’s mouth dropped open. “Surely she didn’t say that to you!”

  “Not in those words. But it’s obvious our age difference makes it difficult for her to appreciate the things I enjoy.”

  “I often found myself at odds with her when we shopped for her wardrobe. Her ideas definitely clash with mine,” agreed Laura.

  Andrew chuckled. “I can imagine. So, as you and I are of a like age, perhaps you—”

  A shriek from the other side of the room interrupted whatever the earl was about to propose. Laura noticed a group clustering together, and then a shout, “Lady Covington!”

  Andrew dashed to the scene with Laura close behind. Fighting their way through the crowd, they discovered the dowager countess lying on the floor, her eyes closed.

  ****

  “What happened?” Andrew asked those around his mother. He held the countess’s head in his lap while a crowd hovered uncertainly about him.

  Several people spoke at once, and Andrew struggled to make sense of the cacophony about him.

  “Please, let the countess have some air,” Laura’s voice rang out. The onlookers quickly complied, to Andrew’s amazement. He was even more surprised at the calm reassurance spreading over him when she knelt beside him.

  “Where is her ladyship’s reticule?” she asked. Finding it, she dug into it until she found a small, filigree case. She pulled it out, wincing at the strong vinegar odor, and held it to the countess’s nose.

  Lady Covington coughed and opened her eyes. “Oh! Heavens, what is going on?” Her eyes focused on her son. “Andrew, help me to sit up.” The earl quickly complied.

  “My lady, perhaps we should take you to a more comfortable seat so that you can rest,” Laura suggested. She looked around at the crowd still milling about. “Perhaps some of you gentlemen could help? And perhaps someone could fetch Lady Covington something to drink?”

  Three men stepped forward to help Andrew carry his mother to the ladies’ retiring room. Another summoned a waiter to bring refreshments to the countess.

  Settled comfortably, away from onlookers, Lady Covington sipped from her glass. Andrew’s worry subsided as his mother’s color quickly improved.

  “Thank you for taking me away from those prying eyes, Andrew.” the countess said. “It is mortifying enough to know I fainted in public, but to have everyone watching me — well, I’m glad you had the presence of mind
to get me away. Silly me, I was so preoccupied with my letter writing that I forgot to eat this afternoon. I must have been famished. I’m so glad you brought me some food. You take such good care of me, Andrew.”

  Andrew reminded his mother it was Lady Laura who’d had the presence of mind to take care of these things, but when he turned to thank her, she was gone.

  He took a moment to consider his curious sense of loss at her absence then turned his attention back to his mother.

  Chapter Seven

  Laura threaded her embroidery needle and picked up her hoop. The latest issue of Ackermann’s Repository included some delightful whitework patterns, and she was eager to try some of them out. Settling back in her chair, she allowed herself to reminisce about her wonderful afternoon. Andrew — Lord Covington — had extended an invitation for the following day to observe the new exhibit at Mr. Bullock’s museum, the Egyptian Hall. Miranda, of course, had demurred, but Cousin Reginald, who happened to be within earshot, expressed a genuine interest in attending. The earl had then suggested the three of them could go together, and Reginald had accepted. Laura could hardly contain her excitement.

  Recently, Lord Covington had been a regular visitor to the townhouse. With Miranda, they had gone for walks and rides, and on one glorious occasion, had attended a performance of Henry VIII at Covent Garden’s Theater Royal. Andrew had invited the entire Montgomery household to that event — Cousin Reginald, Cousin Augusta, Miranda, and Laura. In the earl’s private box, Miranda had gone to be seen, but Laura had sat close to the edge and listened to every word spoken and watched every moment of the action. And afterward in his luxurious carriage, Andrew had asked her opinion of the performance, looking into her eyes as if her answer meant everything to him.

  Was it possible the earl had feelings for her? Though his invitations always included both sisters, it seemed his gaze rested on her, Laura, when he extended them. But he had never shown her any preferential treatment, conversing with both sisters equally. Perhaps tomorrow’s excursion would provide some answers.

  “Laura, it is time we invited people here. Can we host a ball?”

  Laura looked up from her needlework as her sister burst into the sitting room. “A ball?” She furrowed her brow. “Probably not, dear. There isn’t enough room.”

  “But we’ve been to everyone else’s home! I don’t know when Father will come. Mama says she’s feeling somewhat better, I think. It’s difficult to understand her English, and she’s never been good about writing letters. I want to show people I can be a good hostess. Can’t you persuade Cousin Reginald to allow us to do something?”

  “Why don’t we host a small dinner party? We could invite perhaps a half-dozen people—”

  “Oh, Laura, that’s perfect! I’ll work on the guest list now. Can you take care of the menu?” Without waiting for an answer, she whirled and left.

  Laura blinked. What had she done? Miranda would surely leave her with most of the work. In addition to the menu planning, she’d probably have to send the invitations and take care of a myriad of other tasks.

  Miranda would undoubtedly insist on a new gown. There would be fittings and accessories to choose. They would not be able to host a dinner party for weeks. Tomorrow, after her outing to the Egyptian Hall, or the next day would be soon enough to begin preparations.

  ****

  Laura took Lord Covington’s hand as she disembarked from his carriage. She took a few moments to gaze upward at the magnificent façade of the Egyptian Hall in Picadilly. At Cousin Reginald’s impatient call, she and Francesca followed the gentlemen up the steps, between the wide marble pillars, and into the great exhibition hall. Once inside, she paused again to stare. The exhibit had been billed as the most extensive collection of African wildlife and artifacts in Europe, and from the sheer number of displays she believed the claim to be accurate.

  All around the edges of the room were large glass cases, and people crowded in front of them to see the objects inside. Two rows of long display tables spanned the length of the room. Between the display tables, life-size models of jungle animals stood poised to hunt. In the center of it all was an odd long-necked, spotted creature at least fifteen feet tall. A giraffe, Laura thought. She’d seen pictures in her father’s books.

  “Where would you like to start?” Lord Covington asked his guests.

  “I-I’m quite overwhelmed,” Cousin Reginald admitted. “There is so much to see, I don’t know where to begin.”

  Laura agreed. “Perhaps we could start with the displays on the walls and then work our way around the display tables?” she suggested.

  “Excellent plan,” Andrew said. He offered his arm to Laura. “Shall we begin?”

  Laura’s heart swelled, and she felt her face grow warm as she took his arm. Her breathing became uneven and she wondered if Andrew would notice her excitement.

  Andrew pointed out interesting exotic birds and kept a friendly banter, and Laura quickly calmed. At first, Laura felt unnerved looking into the eyes of these animals, knowing they were once living creatures. Some had been arranged in front of murals drawn to make them appear in their natural habitats. They paused in front of each case, and Laura eagerly read the information printed neatly on placards next to each animal.

  The last case on the wall contained a number of fierce war masks and weapons. Laura shivered at the thought of the artifacts in use. And she shivered again when Andrew leaned down and murmured, “Are you cold, Lady Laura?” His warm breath tickled her ear, and it was all she could do to shake her head.

  The thrill of being close to him was so heady that she barely noticed a strange cracking noise from behind them and someone frantically calling “Look out!” Instantly, Andrew’s arms wrapped around her, holding her. She thought the thunderous noise she heard must be the pounding of her heart, but then she realized it was the sound of several heavy items falling to the floor. Andrew shielded her from whatever happened, and she longed to stay cocooned in his embrace.

  All too soon, he released her, and she mourned the loss of his warmth. Andrew held her away from him, and she drowned in his gaze.

  “Are you all right?”

  She blinked, sorting her jumble of thoughts. “Am I — what?”

  “This entire row of larger preserved animals tipped, and I was afraid you would be crushed. Thank goodness someone shouted a warning in time. I couldn’t have borne it if you had been harmed.”

  The import of what had happened infiltrated her brain, and she swayed, causing Andrew to catch her by the arms and hold her up.

  A gentleman rushed toward them. “My lord, I am Samuel Nickerson, the curator for this exhibit. Please accept my sincere apologies for this unfortunate incident.” He turned to Laura. “Madam, have you been harmed?”

  Laura looked down at herself. Her dress showed some dust, but she didn’t feel any injury. She shook her head, unable to speak. Andrew answered for her. “The lady has had quite a fright. Is there a place for her to sit?”

  Mr. Nickerson led Andrew, Laura, and Francesca to his office where he showed Laura to a comfortable chair and offered her a cup of tea. He was quick to assure Andrew, “The large animals will be removed and I will personally see to it that they are more secure before they are set on display again.”

  Cousin Reginald, who had wandered off on his own to another part of the hall, came rushing into the office. “What happened? Have you been harmed? I can’t imagine having one of those ghastly creatures falling on me.” He flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his jacket.

  Laura, having found her voice, assured him she was fine, and when Lord Covington suggested they return to the exhibit another day, she shook her head. “Oh no, my lord. I am quite well. I would like to see the remainder of the exhibit, if it pleases you.”

  ****

  Andrew looked deep into Laura’s eyes. To his relief, they didn’t reflect pain, only awareness. It was the same awareness he felt whenever she was near. He felt a sudden urge to lean closer�
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  “Cousin, I don’t feel safe here,” Reginald complained. “Perhaps we should leave and return after the display creatures have been secured, as Mr. Nickerson has said.”

  Laura turned to her cousin, severing eye contact, and Andrew felt the break as keenly as if she had cut it with a knife.

  “I appreciate your concern, Cousin, but I am certain we will not be attacked by any more falling animals. Mr. Nickerson has removed them from the display, and I would dearly love to see the rest of the exhibit.” She spun back to Andrew and added, “That is, if Lord Covington agrees.”

  Andrew nodded, though at that moment he would have agreed to almost anything Laura asked.

  Chapter Eight

  Three weeks later, Laura sat at one end of the elegantly decorated table, observing her sister. Cousin Reginald had not only agreed to the dinner party but had been eager to attend and invite his own friends. “I’ve been sadly lacking in my social obligations,” he’d said. “Make whatever plans you like, and I’ll approve any related purchases.”

  Lord Covington sat on Miranda’s right, and Mr. Pembroke, third son of the Duke of Waterston, sat on her left. The three of them seemed to enjoy each others’ company, she thought, although she couldn’t hear the conversation. The half-dozen guests Laura had recommended had grown to sixteen, and the guests on either side of her kept her engaged in a discussion of the latest treatments for gout.

  To Laura’s surprise, once Miranda had decided on the guest list, she had shown an interest in other details. As soon as the pattern and fabrics for the new gown had been selected, she’d thrown herself into the plans, sampling and approving the menu, choosing the table decorations, and even approving the wording of the invitations, though Laura, as she had expected, actually penned the notes to the prospective guests.