She"d been thrilled when Lord Martin began to court her in her first season. She"d been infatuated with him from afar for years, and his immediate interest in her after her come out had felt like a dream come true. He was, she"d been certain, her prince come to life.
"Then what was it?" Hunter prompted.
"I..." She opened her mouth, closed it again.
She"d jested to Evie once that her tendre tendre for Lord Martin had expired after she"d discovered he kissed like a fish struggling to breathe on land. But that hadn"t been true. The one kiss she"d shared with Lord Martin had been rather nice. Not at all like the exhilarating kisses she"d shared with Hunter, but perfectly adequate for her at the time. for Lord Martin had expired after she"d discovered he kissed like a fish struggling to breathe on land. But that hadn"t been true. The one kiss she"d shared with Lord Martin had been rather nice. Not at all like the exhilarating kisses she"d shared with Hunter, but perfectly adequate for her at the time.
Her disillusionment had come the next day when, emboldened by that kiss, she"d shared with him her dream of one day writing a symphony, having it published, and hearing it performed in front of an audience, a real real audience in a theater, not just a room full of house guests. audience in a theater, not just a room full of house guests.
He"d laughed at her. Not with intentional cruelty, but with a distinctly patronizing air that told her he found her, and her dream, quite adorably silly.
She"d been crushed.
"Kate?"
Kate gave off twisting her fingers behind her back, for twisting them in her skirts. She wanted to tell Hunter. She did, but the words bottled up, just as they had when she"d wanted to tell him of the music in her head. "Martin...Lord Martin didn"t care for my...for something I want."
"Would you care to try that again?" he asked in a gentle, but faintly amused tone. "With a bit more clarification, this time?"
She took a quick breath and blurted out, "I"m writing a symphony. I want to publish it and hear it played in a theater."
To keep from babbling incoherently as she had the last time she"d blurted out one of her secrets, she snapped her mouth shut, hard, and waited for his reaction. She braced for a laugh, or a sympathetic smile, or a patronizing pat on the head. She feared she"d receive all three. But what she got was a slight lift of his brows and the comment, "A challenging goal, but you"ve certainly the talent to obtain it. Is it coming along well?"
Acceptance of her dream, confidence in her abilities, and interest in her progress. All at once. If they hadn"t been standing in the hall where anyone might come along and see them, she would have thrown her arms around him and kissed him soundly. She contented herself with just beaming at him.
"You mean that. All of it."
"Said it all, didn"t I?" He tilted his head at her. "May I a.s.sume Lord Martin had a different reaction?"
Her smile faltered, then fell. "He thought it was silly. He laughed."
"The man is a fool."
"Yes, I know." But he"d been the fool she"d fancied a prince, and the disillusionment had been difficult to accept. She pushed the memory of it away. It had been a long time ago, and it no longer mattered to her what Lord Martin thought.
"I"m very near to being finished," she told Hunter, and how wonderful that she could could tell him. "I"ve only a little left, a small section I"m working on now." tell him. "I"ve only a little left, a small section I"m working on now."
"It must be exciting, to be so close."
"And frustrating. It"s not coming along as well as I"d like. It will will," she was quick to inform him. No matter how frustrating the missing piece became, she"d not give up on it. "It"s simply a trifle irksome at present. And it"s a great deal of work for something I may never hear played as I"d like once it"s complete."
"I imagine Whit would shoulder the expense of an orchestra for you."
"He would," she agreed. Whit had paid for orchestras to play at their mother"s b.a.l.l.s in the past. "But it wouldn"t be the same, not really. It wouldn"t be published. And it would feel as if..."
"As if what?" he prompted.
"As if I"d given up. As if I"d been bested."
"I hadn"t realized it was a compet.i.tion."
"It"s more a duel of wills," she decided. "London publishers have been reluctant to recognize my other works for some time, and I"ve become rather persistent in my attempt to change their minds. They"re forced to write out their regrets at least once a month."
"One word from Whit, or-"
"No." She shook her head resolutely. "That wouldn"t be the same either. I"ll succeed on the merit of my work."
He was quiet a moment before speaking. "If you were a man, you would have obtained that success by now."
"And if I were the daughter of a commoner, my requests for publication would likely be ignored entirely."
"It"s a balance of injustices then?" he asked with a small laugh and pushed off the wall.
"I"m afraid so." She fell into step beside him as they began a leisurely walk down the hall. "Are you headed to the library? That"s where the other gentlemen have gathered."
He shook his head. "I"m for my room. You?"
"I thought perhaps I"d practice the piece I"m to play tonight."
He glanced at her. "Is it necessary for you to practice?"
"In a general sense you mean?" she guessed, then continued when he nodded. "Of course. How could I improve otherwise?"
"I hadn"t thought it possible for you to improve."
She felt her cheeks warm. "I thank you for the compliment, but one can always improve. And one should always strive to, in my opinion. I"d hate to think I was no more skilled today than I was five years ago. I"d hate to think I was the same person person I was five years ago." She thought about that. "How disheartening it would be to know the person I am now is exactly the same as the person I was then, and exactly the same person I"ll be twenty years from now." I was five years ago." She thought about that. "How disheartening it would be to know the person I am now is exactly the same as the person I was then, and exactly the same person I"ll be twenty years from now."
"You want to be someone else?" Hunter asked.
"No, I just want to be better. I certainly want to be acknowledged as a skilled composer." She glanced at him. "Do you wish to be the same as you are now, twenty years hence?"
"No. I should like to be richer."
She laughed at that. "Is it possible possible for you to be richer?" for you to be richer?"
"I plan on spending the next twenty years finding out."
"And I suspect fifty years from now, you"ll be willing to give up all your riches to be twenty years younger. So, who you are, and not just what you have, will have changed. In the end, it"s only who we are that matters, isn"t it?" They stopped outside the music room. "That"s why I practice at the piano and, whenever possible, at being the person I want to be in twenty years."
There was a slight pause before he spoke. "Absolutely fascinating."
"Beg your pardon?"
"Nothing," he chuckled. "Enjoy your time in the music room."
Hunter walked away as Kate pushed through the door of the music room, but he didn"t go far-just a few feet down the hall before he stopped, leaned against the wall, and listened as she began to play. As she began to practice practice, he corrected.
He folded his arms over his chest and scowled absently at the floor. Did he practice at anything? Was he a better man than he"d been five years ago? Certainly, in the eyes of the law he was much much improved from the man he"d been seven years ago, but the law had never been the ruler by which he"d measured himself. improved from the man he"d been seven years ago, but the law had never been the ruler by which he"d measured himself.
The acc.u.mulation of wealth was, and always had been, how he determined improvement. He was wealthier now than he had been five years ago, and he fully intended to be wealthier yet five years hence. It stood to reason then, that he had had improved, and would continue to do so. improved, and would continue to do so.
Fifty years from now, you"ll be willing to give up all your riches to be twenty years younger.
He thought about that and came to the conclusion that it was absolute nonsense. If he gave up all his riches, he might very well starve to death within a fortnight. What b.l.o.o.d.y difference would it make if he was twenty years younger at the time? It was better to die old and rich than young and poor, wasn"t it? In his estimation, it was also better to die young and rich than old and poor.
It was, he decided and pushed off from the wall, just all around better to practice at being rich.
Mirabelle accepted a biscuit from the dowager Lady Thurston. Having already partaken of tea and biscuits with Kate and Lizzy, Mirabelle couldn"t claim hunger. She could could have claimed an inability to refuse anything sweet, but she found it more appealing to simply claim manners. She was sitting in Lady Thurston"s chambers, after all. It was only polite to accept what was offered. have claimed an inability to refuse anything sweet, but she found it more appealing to simply claim manners. She was sitting in Lady Thurston"s chambers, after all. It was only polite to accept what was offered.
She bit into the treat, and considered how best to bring their conversation around to a problem she"d been mulling over since before tea. She"d come with the excuse of wishing to discuss whatever had been said between Miss Willory and Lady Thurston-Kate and Mirabelle hadn"t been able to make out but every third word-but Lady Thurston"s response to that had been more or less what Mirabelle had expected. Miss Willory"s plea to the dowager countess to overturn Mirabelle"s decision had been denied. There was nothing else that needed to be said on the matter. In truth, what interested Mirabelle most at the moment was the subject of matchmaking. She swallowed her food and decided that a direct approach would suit best.
"I think perhaps we have been mistaken in regards to Mr. Laury."
Lady Thurston set down her plate of biscuits without taking one for herself. "What has led you to that conclusion?"
"I invited him to tea today." Mirabelle grimaced. "The offer produced some sort of nervous fit. I rather feared he might swallow his tongue."
"Yes. It was the same on our walk about the grounds. He is ill at ease in Kate"s company." Lady Thurston pressed her lips together in annoyance. "I had not expected that."
"It is most most odd. I don"t recall him behaving oddly in the past." odd. I don"t recall him behaving oddly in the past."
"Nor I. Quite the opposite, in fact. I have always found him to be a charming young man."
Mirabelle blew out a short breath. "What do you suggest?"
"I suggest we not give up our efforts prematurely."
Mrs. Summers"s voice sounded from the connecting door to Lady Thurston"s room. "It would not be premature to cease in an effort you should never have begun. Mr. Laury is clearly not the gentleman for Kate."
"I should think I would be the best judge of that," Lady Thurston replied with a sniff.
Mrs. Summers crossed the room to take a seat. "I should think Kate the best judge of all, and she appears to prefer Mr. Hunter"s company."
"Kate is simply as yet unaware of Mr. Laury"s attributes," Lady Thurston insisted.
Mrs. Summers carefully selected a biscuit for herself. "And those attributes would be?"
"He is is handsome," Mirabelle ventured. "In a soft, romantic sort of way. Rather like a poet. And he has a great fondness for all things musical." handsome," Mirabelle ventured. "In a soft, romantic sort of way. Rather like a poet. And he has a great fondness for all things musical."
"He has a quick mind, a kind heart, and a gentle disposition," Lady Thurston added.
Mrs. Summers raised her brows at that last in mild amus.e.m.e.nt. "You make him sound like a horse."
"One with an unfortunate propensity for shying, I"m afraid," Mirabelle admitted with a wince.
Lady Thurston waved that away. "He needs a firm hand, is all."
Mirabelle glanced at Mrs. Summers, who gave a barely perceptible shrug of her shoulders. "You shall do as you please, of course."
Hoping to avoid an argument between the two friends, Mirabelle changed the subject before Lady Thurston could comment. "You look well rested, Mrs. Summers. Much improved from yesterday."
"Thank you, dear. I feel much improved." A slight blush formed on Mrs. Summers"s cheeks. "I received a letter from Mr. Fletcher not an hour ago."
Lady Thurston exchanged surprised glances with Mirabelle. "So soon?"
The blush grew. "It was delivered by special courier."
Mirabelle scooted forward in her chair. "And the contents of the letter?"
"Mr. Fletcher has expressed a desire to...to set things right between us."
"That sounds very promising." Mirabelle finished her biscuit and tried not to look at the full plate next to Lady Thurston. "Are you going to tell us what went wrong between you to start?"
"It was...it was his position with the War Department."
"I see," Mirabelle murmured, though she didn"t really.
"I see," Lady Thurston echoed. And clearly, she did. "Your first husband?"
Mrs. Summers nodded and turned to Mirabelle. "He was an agent as well. He was in France, at court when the Terror began. An effort was made to retrieve him after the king fell, but it failed. He was lost to the guillotine."
"I"m very sorry," Mirabelle murmured.
"It would not have happened, had he been at home in England where he belonged." Mrs. Summers brushed her skirts with hands that were less than steady. "I will not have another husband in the War Department."
"That is understandable," Mirabelle ventured and made a pointed effort to keep her expression free of worry and doubt. According to Whit, William Fletcher had worked for the War Department since he"d been a boy. Would a man give up a life he loved to live his life with the woman he loved? Could he be happy with such a choice? For Mrs. Summers"s sake, Mirabelle dearly hoped so.
CHAPTER Sixteen
On the first few occasions Kate had played the piano in front of guests, she had been exceedingly nervous. It mattered a great deal to her what others thought and said about her music and, at the time, she"d been quite terrified someone would think and say it was dreadful. After a half dozen performances, however, she had come to the conclusion that it simply wasn"t possible to please everyone. There would always be someone who said it was too complicated or too simple, too experimental or too common. The defining moment had been when one silly young man had declared it tolerable, but rather too high in pitch. She"d not ceased caring what others thought after that, but she ceased being terrified of a single person"s opinion.
Perfectly aware that at least one person wouldn"t care for what she"d chosen to play that night, Kate made her way to the piano in the music room as guests took their seats. She would have preferred a more casual atmosphere, with only a few chairs set out for the elderly guests, but Lord Brentworth obviously had something else in mind. He"d had the staff line up neat rows of seating in the room while the guests had been at dinner. Kate sincerely hoped that didn"t mean he expected her to play for an extended period of time. She"d thought to play a song or two, not give an entire concert.