“Pish,”she said.
“Pardon me?” Vincent asked.
The lady gestured with the hand that held her fork. “Anyone can be a statesman, but not just anyone can write music.”
“Compose,” he corrected her, watching flecks of gravy fly off the end of the silver tines onto his cousin’s snowy white table linen.
“Yes, compose,” she agreed, “andplay piano so flawlessly.”
“Be that as it may,” he began, but she was turning away to her right again.
Vincent heard her ask, “Wouldn’t you like to hear some beautiful music, a sonata, played for you after dinner?”
“No,” Vincent said a little too loudly, for the entire table fell silent. He glanced at his cousin. “My apologies,” he said, addressing her querying expression. He didn’t say anything else because there was nothing more to say.
Lady Brilliance turned back to him as the chatter resumed.
“Is something wrong?”
“You cannot offer my composition to others like offering up a plate of roast beef.”
He ought to have realized this would tickle her which, by her winsome smile, it did. Vincent had to speak more plainly.
“The sonata you heard belongs to me, and only I may decide who hears my music and when.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
“Do you?” he blurted.
“Indeed. If your sonata had been published and played publicly, like Mr. Ambrose Castern’s music” — he stiffened at the mention of his most bitter enemy, but she didn’t notice —“then it becomes the property of the world, and one may hear it whenever someone with enough talent can play it. In such a case, music more resembles a painting in a gallery. The artist can no longer control who sees his canvas.”
Vincent realized he’d drained his wine glass and tapped it to indicate his desire for more, which thankfully came quickly at the hands of the nearest footman.
“Oh, I should like more, too,” Lady Brilliance said enthusiastically. She seemed that type of person — all in for a penny as much for a pound.
With that settled, Vincent decided to get his dinner partner off the topic of music altogether.
Although he was only at Bexley Hall as a favor, and while he was certain he would never see any of these people again apart from his own cousin, he would make an attempt not to be an utter arse. He must show an interest in his dining partner.
“Naturally, I have heard of Lord and Lady Diamond, but I was unaware of you.” Belatedly realizing that smacked of discourtesy, he added, “That is to say, I know nothing about you or whether you have sisters and brothers.”
Moreover, Vincent couldn’t deny — despite his first impression of Lady Brilliance as a nuisance, albeit a pretty one — he found her company tolerable.
“I have three older sisters and one older brother. And you, my lord?”
“An older sister and a younger brother.”
“I am relieved for you,” she said.
An odd statement, to be sure, until she added, “I find my family to be the source of my greatest happiness.”
That surprised him, given his own less-than-joyful relations. While he was close with his mother and on good terms with his stepfather, his sister had left for Belgium upon marrying five years earlier and had never returned. His younger brotherenjoyed Cambridge so much, he was residing there despite no longer being a student.
“I may as well tell you that my name is the worst of the lot,” Lady Brilliance remarked into his silence.
He wasn’t sure how to reply. “It is, as I said before, an unusual one.”
“I don’t mind that. What is most vexing is how rarely it is used. If one is going to be given a name by one’s loving parents, for goodness’ sake, use it. My sisters are lucky. The eldest, Clarity, could be called Clare, yet no one ever does. Still, it would be a real name. And my other sister, Radiance, is often called Ray which, to me, denotes sunshine, a perfectly acceptable name. My other sister, Purity, is always called precisely that, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. No one would call her Pure, as that’s just a word, not a name. And then there’s Adam, who is naturally called Adam.”
