“Thank me when I get you out of this entanglement.”
“Well, if the lady has her head swayed by someone in a better position, I think it would only be fair to step aside. Thankfully, you’ll not marry. I don’t want to lose dear Miss Wilcox to you, Livingston.”
There.
My tone sounded merry, musical. I hoped it started Livingston thinking about eligible bachelors who might show enough interest that a young woman could plausibly renege on my proposal.
But with his vigilant stance against marriage, I doubted he’d encourage others to try to court Miss Wilcox.
Twisting his hands, I saw the cogs in his head turning. If not trying to name potential suitors, what could he be thinking?
I sat forward. “Tell me the gossip on Torrance or the Wilcoxes that you must be holding back. You seem to be plotting.”
“Nothing on Torrance or the Wilcoxes, I’ll have to ask around—”
“Please don’t. I don’t want this engagement to get the wrong attention.”
“I don’t have to do a thing. Once you speak to your father, he’ll cause a stir.”
“He doesn’t pay attention to me.”
“The man will now. He’ll take this engagement personally.”
“What does Prahmn have to do with anything? My father will be cross that I, ah, um . . . arrived upon this decision without including him. But we’ve never seen eye to eye on much.”
Livingston blew out a long evil laugh. “You won’t have a meeting of the minds on this. Your father tried to influence the Court of Chancery to prevent Torrance’s accession. He didn’t want a peer who was Russian or Blackamoor.”
My father did a lot of ugly things. This, I didn’t think him capable of.
But I didn’t have a reason to suspect Livingston of lying.
“I wonder, Sebastian, if Torrance supported this alliance to make the marquess madder than an angry bull.”
That was a good way to describe my father, mad and bullish. “Prahmn’s away on holiday. This should be concluded before he returns.”
“What? No. No eloping!”
Couldn’t tell Livingston the plan was to gain more suitors for Miss Wilcox so that she could gracefully beg off at Easter. “I suppose. But our wedding will be after I’ve secured my spot in the Harlbert’s Prize for Music. Once the plans for the Royal Academy of Music are created, like the Royal Society, I will have a position. All Harlbert’s Prize winners will be considered.”
“You aspire to a profession? I suppose that’s one droll way of earning an income.”
Livingston was a first son and the heir. He could pursue whatever he wanted. He had the income of his lands to afford his leisure and his research, particularly in the area of disease. It was a noble cause for him. His father died from smallpox.
Nonetheless, my friend was bitter from his wife’s abandonment. She ran off to Scotland to gain a divorce. The action, the gossip, left him broken, changed.
“My friend, I have to afford my new wife. I don’t want coal money. The Marquess of Prahmn will definitely cut off my funds.”
“The Wilcox woman, this secret romance, is the cause of not finishing your entry.” He groaned. “She’s been a distraction. You have to agree. You’ve been struggling. I arranged Madame Zula for nothing.”
“You give my apologies to the madame. And now that I’ve secured Miss Wilcox’s affection, I can concentrate. My submission has to be a brand-new piece, one never played for the public. It has to be perfect. Every time I get close, the notes go away.”
“Well, you’re too high-strung. You need to relax. A gentlewoman isn’t the answer. That’s why I arranged for you to meet Madame Zula atCovent Garden. You’d have had your pick ofherflowers, instead of finding one in Torrance’s garden.”
Livingston sat back and drew his hands to his head like he’d been seized with a headache. “You actually want to marry Miss Wilcox? Where have I gone wrong? Should’ve gotten you to Zula last year.”
We were silent until the carriage stopped at 60 St. James’s Street. Brooks’s.
As I started to step out, Livingston stopped me. “Let’s get to the betting book. I bet you a guinea that you’ll falter and won’t marry the Wilcox chick.”
