Her Muse, His Grace (Muses Book 4) Page 8

  Chapter 10

  “What the blazes are you doing?” Thorn asked as he stepped into Mark’s parlor.

  “Reacquainting myself with the violin.” After seeing Bianca home, he’d found a store to purchase the fine instrument he now held, as well as music. It had been years since he played, having let his own violin gather dust as he built his sugar plantation. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed the instrument, though his skills were rather in need of practice.

  “Why?”

  “To assist Miss Valentine.” He put the violin back in its case, and that’s when he noticed the beautiful blonde woman beside his friend. “My apologies.”

  “Mr. East, this is my wife, Anna.”

  Mark eyed Thorn. Had he not told his wife the truth? It was one thing to keep a secret from all of society, but not one’s spouse. He nodded his head. “Mrs. Thorn. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  She curtseyed and blushed.

  Mrs. Thorn knew the truth of who he was, or she’d not curtsey to him, nor so deeply.

  Hopefully, she wasn’t the sort who would speak out of turn. “Please, have a seat.”

  Thorn and his wife settled onto the settee, and Mark called for refreshments before taking the chair across from them.

  “Why does Miss Valentine need assistance?” Thorn asked. “And, which Miss Valentine are we speaking about?”

  Mark straightened. “You know the Valentines.”

  “Yes.” He grinned. “Almost ruined one.”

  “David,” his wife hissed.

  “It was all very innocent, my dear.” He lifted his wife’s hand and kiss the back of it. “More of a misunderstanding and being in the wrong place sort of thing. As she’s happily married to Felding now, no harm was done.”

  A footman entered a moment later and set the tea service in the middle of the table.

  “May I?” Mrs. Thorn requested and Mark nodded.

  He could pour his own tea, but as she was the only lady in the room, Mrs. Thorn must have felt it fell to her to see to the service. That, and she probably knew the truth about Mark’s identity and decided she should serve a duke and not the other way around.

  Mark focused back on Thorn. Clearly, his friend knew the same family. “What can you tell me of them? The Valentines?”

  Thorn lifted a brow. “First, tell me why you’re helping one. I find it most intriguing.”

  “Do you take anything in your tea, Mr. East?”

  “No. Thank you.” He took the cup and saucer from Mrs. Thorn and settled back. “Miss Bianca Valentine is my accompanist.”

  Thorn titled his head in thought. “She is the eighth Valentine I believe.” He took the offered cup from this wife. “There is Demetrius, the solicitor; and Benedick. the investigator.”

  “I’ve met them, but only them.”

  Thorn nodded. “Orlando, the doctor; Mercutio, the pugilist; Petrucio, the actor. Rosalind married Felding, and then there is Isabella, Bianca, then Bertram, whom they lost at Waterloo, and finally Perdita.”

  Mark simply stared at Thorn. How well did he know this family?

  “Interesting names,” Mrs. Thorn said before taking a sip of her tea.

  “Apparently, their parents liked Shakespeare.” Thorn shrugged. “But given their father was a missionary, I would have assumed he’d give his children Biblical names. Seems more reasonable.”

  Mark didn’t really care how the children came by their names. He wanted to know more about the family. “How well do you know them?”

  “Not that well, really. I don’t know the women at all, other than Lady Felding, but I’ve had conversations with the older brothers.”

  He’d been hoping for more, but his investigator would be able to tell him much more.

  “So, why are you helping Miss Bianca Valentine, and why does it involve a violin?” Thorn asked.

  “She is a composer.”

  Mrs. Thorn straightened, as if suddenly intrigued.

  “So far she has only written music for the piano,” he explained, watching Mrs. Thorn, who began to smile.

  “It’s the only instrument she knows how to play. Now she’d like to add stringed instruments, and that is how I am going to assist.”

  Thorn leaned back and studied him. “Have you settled upon a wife yet?”

  Mark looked him in the eye. “No.”

  He wasn’t about to confess to his friend that Bianca was at the top of his list, even though she shouldn’t be on the list at all. Especially after hearing the professions of the rest of her family. A duke did not have a pugilist or actor as a brother-in-law. It just wasn’t done.

  “I look forward to meeting her one day,” Mrs. Thorn announced. “Few people understand the passion of creating. While mine is painting and sculpture and hers is music, I do believe we’d be of a like mind and may become friends.”

  Passion! That was the perfect word that was behind the music Bianca created. Was her passion limited to the music or did it dwell so deeply within in her, being so much a part of her that she’d be just as passionate in the bedchamber?

  * * *

  Bianca anxiously waited for the day to end. At the moment she was playing the same section of music over and over as Lady Acker instructed three students in turns and jumps. She’d yet to see an entire choreographed dance, but knew that was what they were leading up to, and couldn’t wait to see how it all came together.

  More pressing however, was the music in her satchel. She’d read the book Mr. East recommended this weekend and attempted to write the notes for the violin, but until she’d heard it, she wasn’t sure if they were correct. One did not learn an entirely new instrument in a few days.

  “That will be all,” Lady Acker announced and Bianca took her hands from the keys. Finally, they were done.

  As the students gathered their things, Lady Acker walked to the piano. “I understand Mr. East will be joining you this afternoon.”

  Thank goodness he had spoken to her.

  “I look forward to hearing the composition when it is completed.”

  “Thank you for the use of the room, and this beautiful instrument.” She ran her hand delicately over the fine wood.

  Lady Acker smiled. “It is my pleasure. I understand well. You need to play and compose as much as I need to dance.”

  “And as my wife needs to paint.”

  They both turned to find a very dark-haired gentleman enter the room with a beautiful blonde on his arm.

  “Mr. Thorn,” Lady Acker greeted him. “I was not expecting you.”

  That was Mr. Thorn? The one who nearly ruined Rosalind? Not that either of them were at fault, but she recalled the story well of how her sister was a nursery maid in the home of Thorn’s aunt. When Mr. Thorn was far too deep in his cups and could barely hold himself upright, it had been Rosalind who helped him into his room, thus being caught and was accused of trying to trap Thorn into marriage.

  Of course, it may be a different Mr. Thorn, but Bianca suspected that it was the very gentleman who just entered the room. She’d like to be angry with him; but in the end, it all worked out well and her sister’s reputation had not suffered.

  “I was hoping to find Mr. East here.” He drew the lady on his arm close. “My wife would like to take lessons to prepare for the Season.”

  Lady Acker stiffened. How very odd.

  “I’m sure you can teach her anything she wishes to learn and don’t need the assistance of this dancing master.”

  Why was Lady Acker wishing to turn away a potential student? Shouldn’t Mr. East make that decision?

  “Ah, but I’ve already spoken to Mr. East since his recent arrival.”

  Lady Acker’s eyes widened for a moment and then she nodded. “I see. He should be along shortly.” Then she turned to Bianca. “Miss Bianca Valentine, may I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Thorn.”

  She stood. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Then I shall leave you to await Mr. East.” With that, Lady Acker glided out of th
e room.

  “My wife was anxious to meet you, Miss Valentine.”

  Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  “Mr. East and I have been friends since we were children. When he mentioned he was going to help with music, Anna became very much intrigued.” He smiled down at the blonde woman who was beginning to blush. “You see, she is an amazing artist, but few understand her passion for creating art. As you compose music, she thought the two of you would be of a like mind.”

  A thrill shot through Bianca. Yes, her family supported her need to create, but they didn’t understand that it occurred at all hours of the day and night, and that it wasn’t something you could do for a specific number of limited hours as one who goes to a position. Sometimes she’d even skipped meals because if she left the piano at that moment, the notes would be lost before she could return and put them on paper.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Valentine,” the lady said.

  “Bianca. Please call me Bianca.”

  “And you must call me Anna.”

  “Thorn, is there no place I can go that you won’t be?” Mr. East demanded as he marched into the room.

  “My wife would like lessons,” Thorn announced.

  “Your wife wished to meet Miss Valentine,” Mr. East countered.

  Thorn shrugged and grinned. “True.”

  “I do hope you can join us for supper, Bianca.”

  Her heart swelled. While she was close to her sisters, she’d never had a friend outside of the family, other than Felding’s sisters. “I’d like that very much.”

  “We’ll make the arrangements and send word to the Feldings.” Mr. Thorn nodded then escorted his wife from the room.

  Bianca smiled after them. Might she develop a friendship in London? It’s something she never considered, but found she like the idea very much.

  Chapter 11

  Mark glanced down at the sheet music and rested his violin on his shoulder and beneath his chin. After raising his bow, he began to play the notes Bianca had written over the weekend. Something was off, but he wasn’t sure what, as he had no idea what she was hoping for. After he finished, he looked over to find her frowning.

  “That’s not what I thought I wrote.”

  “What did you wish to write?” Maybe if he knew the tune, he could help her out.

  “It belongs to this piece.” She placed her fingers on the keys and began to play a moving melody. The emotion expanded in his soul, filling him with hope and love. It was slow and seductive, causing the hair on his arms and neck to rise in anticipation. His breaths became short as she reached the crescendo, and he blew out a long breath at the end, as if having gained release. That piece of music would send every gentleman who heard it dragging his lover off to bed.

  Mark assumed Bianca was an innocent miss, so how did she manage to write a piece so perfect for seduction?

  “Do you now see that what I wrote is wrong?”

  He blinked at her, trying to get his body under control. “I believe so.” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t we start at the beginning and you tell me what the violin should be playing to match your music?”

  She placed her hands on the keys and played a short section then stopped. “While I am playing that, I imagined a violin…” then she hummed how the music should go.

  With that, Mark heard in his head what she intended. “I see. Do you have a pencil?” She handed it to him and he began writing out the correct notes, then played the section for her.

  When he looked up this time, she had a bright smile and was biting her bottom lip. “Yes!”

  “Let’s play it together.”

  And they did. It wasn’t much of the piece, but enough that he knew they’d be able to complete the song for her. He’d always enjoyed the violin and wished he’d not set it aside. But he’d never enjoyed it as much as he was today while helping Bianca create another beautiful piece of music.

  She played the next section and then hummed how the violin should sound. As before, he made the corrections and played, and together they worked through the piece. The notes were basic for the moment, but he’d be able to add more emotion and chords once it was complete.

  “Excuse me, Miss Valentine and Mr. East, but will you be here all evening,” asked the large footman who usually sat by the front door.

  Bianca turned. “What time is it?”

  “Going on nine, Miss.”

  She jumped from her seat. “I must be going. Felding and my sisters must be wondering where I am.” Quickly she gathered her things and rushed toward the door.

  Mark hurried behind her and assisted her into her pelisse. If she didn’t arrive home soon, Felding might just come looking for her and in the process find Mark, which wouldn’t do at all. “I’ll hail a hackney.”

  She worried her bottom lip and looked around. Night had fallen and he wasn’t about to let her walk home. “Thank you,” she finally said.

  When the hack pulled to the curb, Bianca gave the direction to Felding’s townhouse as Mark opened the door and helped her inside, before joining her.

  “You don’t need to see me home,” she said.

  “I insist. London can be a dangerous place.” He’d never forgive himself if something happened to Bianca because they had worked late. And, he wasn’t ready to be parted from her either. If it were in his power, they would have continued through the night, working on her composition and perhaps sharing a meal and some wine. Maybe talk some more. But, if he wished to keep his secrets, he must not rouse suspicion, which included keeping Felding from the need to check on his sister-in-law.

  “What time shall we meet tomorrow?”

  She blinked at him. “Tomorrow?”

  “I thought perhaps we could continue on the music before my first students arrived.”

  Happiness lit in her pewter eyes. “You would come in early?”

  “It would give me much pleasure to do so.” He’d go without sleep to spend time with Bianca. Rising earlier than usual wasn’t a hardship.

  “Seven?”

  “Seven it is.”

  She smiled up at him and the pull was great. All he had to do was bend and her lips would be on his. But, Mark held back. It was too soon. In addition, he didn’t want to frighten her away. What if she didn’t feel the attraction that he was so bloody aware of? There were four weeks left before the Season and he didn’t want to risk losing her now. Besides, was it right to kiss her when she didn’t even know who he really was?

  Time. He just needed to have patience and wait until the time was right. But, he would kiss her before all of London knew he was here.

  * * *

  “Bea, I am so happy for you.”

  “Bertram?” Bianca looked through the dark mist. She wasn’t sure where she was because she couldn’t make any shapes beyond the fog.

  “I’m here, Bea.”

  “Where and why?”

  “Because I cannot visit you any other way.”

  The fog began to part, and her brother became more visible. He looked just as he had the day he departed for the Continent, all decked out in his regimental uniform. Her heart lodged in her throat and she reached out, but was unable to touch him.

  “I spoke to you twice at the school but I feared if I did so again, the others might believe you bound for Bedlam.” He chuckled.

  She smiled. It was true. Though nobody thought it odd when it happened at home. They believed her eccentric enough with music in her head all day every day that having a one-sided conversation with her dead brother wasn’t unusual.

  Dead. Bertram was dead, so how was he here?

  “I always told you that one day you’d compose for an orchestra and now you’re beginning to.”

  “It’s one piece of music which involves only a violin. Hardly an orchestra.”

  “Ah, but it’s a beginning.”

  “Perhaps.” Though where she’d find people to play the other pieces was beyond her.

  “It’s because of him.”


  “Who?” she asked, though she already knew the answer to that question.

  “Your Mr. East. He’s responsible for returning the music to your soul.”

  “No. It’s a coincidence.”

  “I feared your music died when I did, which saddened me very much.” Then he smiled. “It’s Mr. East who has brought it back.”

  She wished to argue, but couldn’t. Bianca hadn’t been able to compose in months, but the moment Mr. East came into the room, the music returned with a passion stronger than she’d experienced ever before.

  “He’s a good man.” Bertram added. “More than you realize just yet, but trust in him.”

  “He’s only helping me,” she argued.

  “Don’t lie to yourself, or me. I know what’s in your heart.”

  Even if Mr. East was in her heart, he shouldn’t be. “It doesn’t matter. You know that as well as I.”

  “Ah, Bea. Have you learned nothing from Rosey and Felding? Your limitations are only what you make of them.”

  “Rosalind is an exception. Felding is an exception. I cannot hope for the same.” Tears stung her eyes. For so long she accepted that love and marriage would not be hers, and it hadn’t mattered. However, now that she’d met Mr. East, for the first time, she truly wished the fictional story their family had created was true. “I will not put myself in a position to be hurt.”

  “Then, you are already hurting yourself. We are on this Earth to love, Bea. Let go of your heart.”

  “How can I? You know how impossible it is.” she cried, but her brother faded away.

  Bianca blinked open her eyes and sat up in her bed. Her heart was pounding and her cheeks were wet from tears. “Oh, Bertram. Why did you have to leave then and now?”

  This wasn’t the first time she’d dreamt of her brother. She’d had several in the past. He’d come to her and they’d talk. Never had he pushed her to do something they all agreed could never happen—to find love and marry. The men in her family had changed their thinking on the subject, but they were men and their parents had been married. She, her sisters and Bertram were a different matter. Nobody wanted a wife with a background as questionable as hers and she was a fool to allow herself to feel any more than she already did for Mr. East.