“Selfish? How can you say that, Janine, when I wish others to have fun!”
“Yes, at the expense of a child.” She looked at Cecilia. “How old is the child?”
“He’s five.”
“Five. So young,” exclaimed Janine.
“He was sent to England by his father, because Owen Sedgewick’s doctor in India told him he had not long to live.”
“What of his mother?” asked Lady Amblethorpe.
“She died over a year ago.”
Lady Amblethorpe pursed her lips as she looked down.
“Mother?” said Janine softly.
“For Lord Soothcoor,” James said. “The child is Soothcoor’s heir. Our friend would want us to find his heir.”
“Lord Soothcoor is an honorable gentleman—if perhaps lamentably a trifle dour at times,” admitted Lady Amblethorpe.
James smiled and exchanged glances with Cecilia. “He is, at that.”
“All right. You shall make your announcement when Mrs. Billington takes her break. I only ask you don’t harm the mood of the evening.”
“We shall earnestly try to remain positive.”
Lady Amblethorpe nodded, then drew herself up. “Now, where can Mrs. Billington be? She went to freshen up before she begins and to get something to drink. She said she hadn’t realized how much greeting everyone would have dried out her throat. I do hope she has not affected her voice. I should be ever so depressed if I caused her distress.”
Cecilia recognized the change of subject as the end of the Soothcoor discussion. “I’m sure a moment or two of quiet will revive her.”
“I keep remembering now that it was ill health that led her to retire from the subscription Vocal Concerts,” Lady Amblethorpe said.
“Yes—however, she appears quite recovered and eager to sing again for an audience, Mother.” said Janine.
“I believe that is she approaching now,” said James, looking past Lady Amblethorpe. “Cecilia, we had best find seats.”
“Yes. I’d like to sit close to the front.”
“Excuse us Lady Amblethorpe, Miss Amblethorpe,” James said, nodding to each woman. He led Cecilia toward the rows of chairs.
* * *
James stoodand extended his hand to his wife. “Come, before others rise for refreshments,” he whispered, as Mrs. Billington informed the audience there would be a short intermission.
As they approached the front of the room, the noise around them rose as guests talked amongst each other.
“James, I don’t think I should be heard in this crowd,” Cecilia lamented, as she looked about the room.
Her husband patted her arm. “I will get their attention.”
They stopped in front of the musicians’ discarded instruments. Suddenly, a sharp, shrill whistle blared across the room. All voices stopped and eyes turned toward the source of the noise.
James smiled. “Forgive me my rude whistle,” he said.
“Bloody childish, wouldn’t have thought that of you, sir,” complained a man to their right.
James glanced in his direction. “Yes, desperate times require desperate measures.”
