Anxiously, she watched as the eldest Davenport bungled her way through her second performance, before an entirely unknown young lady, no older than Matilda, was called forward. She had a pretty smile and perfect ringlets and when she began to sing, she reminded Josephine of a canary songbird. She glanced at Matilda who shook her head, yet there was something about the girl’s delicate features and wedgwood-blue eyes that felt distinctly familiar.
‘Miss Amelia Carlisle,’ Sir Francis murmured with impeccable timing.
Josephine nodded, silently wondering at the coincidence of a young lady sharing a surname with Phoebe and Sophie’s oldest nemesis.
‘Miss Amelia Carlisle of…?’ she prompted, as soon as the music allowed it.
She was aware Aurelia had married a European baron a few years before but knew nothing of any younger relations.
‘Youngest daughter of Lord and Lady Carlisle,’ Sir Francis replied. ‘An old London family. She’s staying with the Davenports currently… as I understand it.’
Josephine felt her eyes grow rounder as Miss Amelia finished her song with the confidence of a seasoned performer, before sinking into a demure curtsey. Then a round of rapturous applause followed, led by her own brothers, as Miss Amelia smiled and made her way back to her seat.
Matilda glared and shook her head. ‘And this is why I refuse to stand up there and bray like a donkey,’ she whispered. ‘I will not give my brothers reason to tease me mercilessly for months when one of us isactuallytalented– please, Jo, do this for all of us?’
‘Now, which of the young ladies have yet to perform?’ Lady Davenport called in her permanently delighted voice. ‘I have three Davenport songbirds waiting, but I do believe every young lady should have an opportunity…’
Josephine closed her eyes, knowing Lady Davenport would not give up until at least one Fairfax had been publicly humiliated.
‘Perhaps I might offer something a little different this evening, Lady Davenport?’ Sir Francis suddenly interjected in his rich tone. ‘After all, this is 1826, and the young ladies deserve to be entertained as much as the gentlemen, do they not?’
He smiled his golden smile at Josephine then, who felt her jaw drop slightly as she returned his regard. She had no reason to believe he’d come to her aid, and yet his intervention was certainly timely. She tore her gaze away, conscious a number of the young ladies were staring.
‘Why…thank you, Sir Francis,’ Lady Davenport gushed after a brief pause. ‘I’m sure the young ladies would bedelighted if you would grace us with an anecdote or a reading from your literary studies, perhaps?’
‘The pleasure would be all mine, Lady Davenport,’ Sir Francis replied, already rising and moving to the front. ‘As you know, I’ve relished the opportunity to study classical literature and poetry over the past few years, and flatter myself I might know a few small pieces that will entertain the moredelicateminds here.’
There was a ripple of sighs that Josephine was sure had nothing at all to do with Sir Francis’s promised performance.
‘I’m surprised he does not recite something in honour of himself, and be done with it,’ a low voice murmured behind them.
Matilda stifled a snort, as Josephine felt a rise of indignation. Lord Huntingly had clearly decided to sit close enough to tease them, but that he should mock their friend too? Sir Francis was the most noble gentleman she knew, and certainly never a murder suspect!
‘And what of my reputation? Are you sure you shouldn’t be a little… wary?’
She stiffened as fragments of their library conversation surfaced, while Matilda tried to contain her mirth.‘Which makes you either very brave or very foolish.’
Without warning, her traitorous lips tingled with the sudden memory of his kiss. She flushed asSir Francis cleared his throat, conscious of Lord Huntingly’s unexpected proximity. Silently, she willed her thoughts elsewhere, and yet she couldn’t stop the heat of her furious thoughts reaching up her neck and across her cheeks. Was he trying to goad her? She glanced at her radiant younger sister and felt the oddest churn of unease– or perhaps he’d changed his mind?
‘She walks in beauty,’Sir Francis began from the front of the room,‘like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies…’
A further sigh of delight rippled through the watching ladies as Josephine clenched her fingers in her skirts. Ordinarily, she loved Lord Byron’s poetry and kept a volume beneath her pillow. Yet, while Sir Francis’s golden tone suited it beautifully, she could think only of Lord Huntingly’s scorn.
‘I do believe half the audience actually think him Lord Byron, come back to woo us!’ Matilda gurgled as the ladies around them gazed, enraptured by his dulcet tones.
Refusing to look at her, Josephine glanced down their row and glimpsed Fred, entirely mesmerised by Sir Francis’s performance. She frowned, perhaps he too was feeling out of sorts.
‘They’d as lief believe it of a crowing peacock!’ Lord Huntingly whispered again, making Matilda shake with the effort of containing her laughter.
Josephine clenched her teeth. She’d borne so much without complaint: a childhood battling a lung affliction, Thomas’s constant criticism, three unsuccessful seasons, the knowledge that all her sisters would likely marry while she didn’t– all to arrive at a moment she would truly treasure, were it not for the presence of a gentleman she wasn’t even sure she wanted to know, let alone call husband.
‘If you are so certain of his poor performance, why not show us all how it should be done?’ she replied fiercely, angling her head so only he and Matilda could hear.
A pregnant silence followed while Sir Francis meandered through his last lines: ‘…a mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent…’before the room erupted with rapturous applause.
‘Thank you so much, Sir Francis,’ Lady Davenport gushed. ‘I believe you might not only have entertained the moredelicate minds here, but won a fewheartstoo! And now, perhaps another of our young ladies would like to…’
‘If you might be generous enough to indulge another gentleman, Lady Davenport?’ a low voice called suddenly, making Josephine freeze in her seat.
