After the men left the Blake house, Carlos assured Adrian that he gave the list of names of Miss St. George, and that he hadn’t revealed any of the reason why, though he added, “Good thing the cats appeared, because she was going to demand an explanation. They were an excellent distraction.”
“Not to mention that fact that you half disrobed in front of the women.”
“Well, your Rose couldn’t see me and be scandalized, so what do you care?” Carlos replied with a shrug. “I assume that you’ll be finding a way to attend that music…thing…tonight.”
“Want me to secure an invitation for you as well? Miss St. George is certain to be there.”
“Oh, no, I’m quite done entertaining debutantes. I’m happy to help you, but I don’t want to be mistaken for a lovesick suitor. Anyway, I’ve got some actual business to attend to.”
Carlos bid him goodbye and hailed a carriage to take him into the city, where he would conduct whatever business his family required of him.
Meanwhile, Adrian headed for his club. Once there, he dashed off a short message to Lady Selby, mentioning that he heard of some musician in town, had she heard anything of it? One of club’s servants took it to be sent via a messenger. Adrian expected a reply within the hour. Lady Selby would pounce on the chance to invite the viscount to her event, if only to show off her acumen at choosing entertainment.
He was wrong.
It took an hour and ten minutes to receive Lady Selby’s reply. Adrian smiled when he read her note insisting that he was more than welcome to attend her home tonight, where the musicians would be offering an exclusive performance following supper.
Adrian had no intention of suffering through a formal dinner, but he’d arrive in time for the music, mostly to hear Rose play the pianoforte. She’d sounded so enthused about her practice, and he was curious to hear the result of all that dedication.
* * * *
The musicale was a bigger event than Poppy had thought it would be. She and Rose were both dressed in their finest spring gowns, Rosalind in antique lace and Poppy in white lawn. But Poppy whispered to Rose about the extravagance of some other guests, who looked like a scene from the Arabian Nights. “I could have emptied my jewelry box and still not be noticed among this crowd,” Poppy said, feeling very much like a tradesman’s daughter all of a sudden.
“Oh, something tells me we’ll be noticed now,” Rose whispered back.
Rosalind’s words came true almost instantly, as her instructor, Maestro Valdi, sighted them and made his way over. He was filled with delight at seeing his student, and in his broken English, heavily peppered with excited Italian, he made it clear that the performance tonight was not to be missed.
“Lady Selby, she has an ear, you know,” he said. “She brings the finest, the top rank to London. You will hear tonight––these musicians, they will make you weep with joy.”
Rosalind listened avidly to Valdi’s gossip regarding the performers. Poppy only nodded politely, since she was scanning the crowd for familiar faces. She almost jumped when she saw one she did not expect. Jonathan Hynes, dressed in his usual black velvet coat and cavalierly tied cravat, was staring in her direction, his face a mask.
Poppy, remembering the man’s prank on Rosalind, unconsciously drew in her breath. What was he doing here, and why was he focused on her and Rosalind? Before Poppy could turn away, his lips curled up in a cruel smile. She deliberately cast her gaze elsewhere, pretending she hadn’t noticed him. But she didn’t like it. Not at all.
Soon enough, the guests were seated in the music room, and the performance began. Rosalind was entranced by the first few pieces, sung by an Italian soprano with a voice like silver. Poppy fidgeted, her mind on other things.
Then she glanced backward and to her surprise, she saw none other than Viscount Norbury in the back row, his eyes locked on Rose.
* * * *
Adrian sat back in the chair, glad he was toward the rear of the room. In general, he hated these sorts of occasions. He could feel the eyes of the other guests on him, as if he were a tiger about to pounce on the nearest available female. They never understood he was a tiger with taste—none of the people present here held any interest for him.
Except Rosalind. She was fascinating. Her blindness gave her a very different understanding of life, and while she played the part of young lady of the gentry perfectly, for that was how she was brought up, it was clear that her mind was working the whole time, drawing different inferences and conclusions, alert to nuances in people’s words and tone that other people missed entirely. Talking with Rose was always surprising, and Adrian had not been surprised in a long, long time.
After the invited musician bowed and left the front of the room, Rose stood up, and Poppy led her to the center of the cleared area in front of the pianoforte, this house being laid out much differently than her own home.
Adrian straightened up, curious. Why was Rose not sitting at the piano? He understood that instrument to be her focus.
Instead it was Poppy who walked to the piano and struck a single key, sounding a clear tone into the otherwise silent air. Rose nodded, then inhaled, her chest and belly swelling subtly.
She opened her mouth and began to sing unaccompanied. It was just her voice flowing into the room, filling the void with pure bel canto sound.
The words were Italian, and Adrian didn’t understand a single one of them, and he didn’t need to, because he felt as if Rose were singing directly to him, spilling out her soul in spun-glass notes.
The music wrapped itself around him, warm and sensuous, like velvet in the air. When she held a particular note, a long ah of an aching heart, Adrian felt it reverberate in his ears and lungs, winding its way into his body until he felt it everywhere, inescapable in its longing.
How was it possible that Rose had such incredible talent and no one ever mentioned it, not once? Adrian wanted nothing more than to hear her sing all night. He’d listen gratefully, and anyone who got restless could damn well leave. In fact, he wanted everyone else to leave so that Rose sung for him and him alone.
The performance ended far too soon. Everyone applauded, except for Adrian, who sat there stunned, still recovering from the rapture of the song.
