He wanted to say something reassuring so the earl would believe in his good intentions. “I was going to wait to speak with you after the legal matter was finished, but I have decided to drop the case.”
“The devil you say!” Lord Diamond exclaimed. “Why would you do that?”
“Ambrose Castern threatened your daughter’s reputation. I believe he will say anything to discredit her and throw doubt upon her testimony.”
“Is that so?”
Vincent nodded. “I am sorry I even brought her into this mess.”
“Brilliance is not the kind of person who lets herself be persuaded to do something she doesn’t wish to do. She is all heart and little head,” he mused. “I mean that in the best possible way. My youngest is a treasure. And she helped you because she believes in you.”
Vincent felt his heart twinge. He wasn’t even worthy of her. He had hurt her when she’d given him the gift of his music printed by the finest publisher in London. And now she might be hurt again unless he made Ambrose stop his threats.
“I have already sent Castern a message that I am not going to sue him.”
“Then my daughter is in good hands and has let her heart lead her to the right man. But if you hurt her,” the earl said calmly, not raising his voice, “I will destroy you.”
Vincent almost missed it. When he realized the import of the nobleman’s words, he looked directly into Lord Diamond’s eyes.
“I understand, and you need not worry about that, my lord.”
“Good. She should be ready soon. I hope you have an amusing evening.”
Realizing he had been dismissed, Vincent drained his glass and took his leave of Brilliance’s father.
In short order, Brilliance appeared at the top of the stairs wearing purple and gold silk pantaloons with a matching tunic and turban.
“Wearing one of my mother’s old costumes,” she said, “so I shall not offend anyone.”
Vincent thought her a colorful jewel. “You are a Persian lady, is that right?”
“Yes.” She clapped her hands. “My costume must be spot on for you to guess on the first try. I didn’t want to be one of those ancient queens or historical people because one can never tell who they are.” Then she looked him up and down and frowned.
“I confess,” he said, “Iamone of those historical people. Would you care to speculate upon my identity?”
He turned in a circle.
“I have no idea,” Brilliance said solemnly. “Someone from the seventeenth century, I would warrant.”
“Indeed, you are correct. In my carriage, I have some sheet music with my character’s name written largely across it at one end and the name of one of his pieces. ‘Canon triplex a 6 vocibus’ written on the other end.” He stuck out one leg and, with a wave of his hand, gave an exaggerated bow. “I am Johann Sebastian Bach, dressed as he was famously painted in a portrait by Elias Gottlob Haussmann in 1746.”
“Bravo, my lord. But I fear you may have to display that sheet music more than once lest everyone assumes by your wig that you are a barrister ready to plead your case before the Lord Chancellor.”
Vincent laughed. “Either way, we shall have a good time. Is your maid ready for the carriage ride?”
“Belinda,” she called out, and the maid appeared, as all good staff did — instantly, silently, and ready to leave. She was even holding her lady’s black mantle, which she draped over Brilliance’s shoulders.
They departed in his carriage for the spectacle at Spencer House on St James’s Place. Brilliance looked so relaxed and happy, matching his own inner peace now that Lord Diamond had granted his blessing. Vincent thought if there was an opportune moment when they could be alone that evening, he would ask her to marry him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Brilliance was glad she’d changed, if for no other reason than that pantaloons were the most daring and liberating thing she had ever worn. Why, they practically showed the shape of her legs as the silk clung to her, brushed her skin, and moved as she did.
In Vincent’s carriage, she even crossed her legs and sat back comfortably, hiding her posture under her thick wool cloak. When they arrived, the area of St. James’s Street was congested with carriages of guests heading for the masquerade.
“Shall we walk?” Brilliance offered. Thus, they departed their warm conveyance to stroll the final yards down St. James’s Place to the classically inspired home of the Spencer family.
She was free to match her escort’s stride as they approached the arches of the ground-floor façade, with her maid trailing behind. Given the time of year, it was unlikely they would get to enjoy the terrace that overlooked Green Park on the building’s other side. Yet knowing the luxurious interior that awaited, Brilliance didn’t mind.
