Ambrose’s eyebrows rose. “Now you are making a jest, and a poor one at that. Just because you believe some of my pieces have a passing resemblance to some of yours, you cannot go claiming every work as your own. I haven’t been near your home for years.”
“You didn’t need to.” Vincent would not go over the old accusations that had led nowhere. Ambrose had always refused to speak the truth even when the two of them were alone. Instead, he focused on the current egregious theft.
“You simply found my latest piece, mistakenly published, and are now passing it off as your own. I suppose you have spiesout to all the music publishers and shops awaiting something anonymous you can sink your claws into.”
Ambrose laughed, and Lydia joined in. It was infuriating. The only saving grace was that she hadn’t ended up as Vincent’s wife. Whether she actually fell in love with Ambrose in the brief time the three of them were together at Mirabel or whether she saw in the ambitious pianist something she didn’t see in Vincent, he would never know. All he knew was that she left for London along with anything he had ever foolishly transcribed onto paper.
A month later, Ambrose had his London debut, playing to great acclaim. “A masterful composer and superb pianist!” screamed the headlines in capital print. Of course, Lydia was always there, basking in the adoration of her husband and of the audience to whom he never failed in introducing her. She loved the limelight as much as, if not more than, her husband.
“A friend of mine published one of my sonatas recently, and apparently,youare now playing it in concert and passing it off as your own.”
“Preposterous,” Ambrose said. “I wrote every note.” But Lydia didn’t look so convincing in the way her eyes widened.
“You had a piece published anonymously?” she asked. Then she shook her head, rolling her eyes as if it served him right to have it plagiarized.
Vincent liked to think she had some morals, somewhere deep down, a little shame for what she’d done, unlike his former friend, who would never admit to anything.
“If that is why you came, merely to hurl more wild accusations like you did three years ago, then you wasted a trip.” Ambrose relaxed onto the sofa, showing his lack of manners by sitting when his wife still stood.
“I let the other infractions go,” Vincent started.
“There were no other infractions,” Ambrose declared, “and there was nothing you could do if there had been.”
“Vincent,” Lydia said softly, snagging his attention. “Music was meant to be played and heard.”
Vincent laughed, not hiding the bitterness in his tone. “Is that how you live with yourself?”
Shaking his head, he crossed the room to the door. “Stop playing it, Ambrose. You have blundered this time. I can prove the piece is mine. I won’t even make you publicly renounce your authorship. Just stop playing it.”
Ambrose rolled his eyes and looked away. Vincent looked at Lydia.What could she do?He stormed out, hoping Ambrose took him seriously. If not, he was prepared to fight.
Brilliance was shockedwhen Belinda tapped on her door and told her who was downstairs in the drawing room.
“How do I look?” she asked her maid. “Never mind. That is of no matter.” She paused. “But how do I look? I wish I’d worn a brighter color today.”
“Peach suits you, my lady. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. But I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not like you would ever say I looked dreadful. Would you?”
And then she dashed from the room, trying to slow her steps so she didn’t appear to be hurrying to see Vincent. But her heartbeat was not cooperating, beating more quickly the closer she came.
“Good day, Lord Hewitt. To what do I owe this unplanned visit?”
“Good day, Lady Brilliance. I am here to ask a favor.”
A favor!He had some nerve. She would give him that. He had all but thrown her out of his mother’s birthday party. Regardless, she wouldn’t stoop to uncivil behavior.
“I am happy to speak with you. Would you care to take tea with me?”
“No, thank you.”
She took her favorite seat at one end of the blue sofa. “Won’t you sit, please?”
He did, taking the wing chair opposite.
“I am surprised you are here.” Brilliance squirmed slightly, wishing they had tea service after all, so she had something to do with her hands apart from wringing them on her lap.
“Frankly, I am surprised to be here, but I think you are the only one who can help me. I know I have behaved badly toward you —”
