Leonard bowed to the austere Miss Frobe, requested coffee, and began piling his plate from the many delicious-smelling dishes on offer.
“Your other guests—like my friend James—appear to be late risers,” he observed, sitting opposite the ladies and lifting his knife and fork.
Lady Whitmore smiled. “I have no other guests.”
Leonard paused. “I understood this was to be a major exhibition with many subscribers to the event.”
“Oh, it is,” Lady Whitmore replied. “But only you, as my guest of honor, are staying at the castle. There is a very comfortable inn, and the village is always full of talented artists and connoisseurs.”
“I see.” He inclined his head. “Then I feel doubly honored.” I think!
Lady Whitmore sipped from a delicate porcelain cup. “It is only right when you are formally opening the event for us. The finishing touches are being put to the exhibition today. You may like to go and look at them before the opening tomorrow.”
“What exactly is expected of me?” he asked bluntly.
“Just a few words of appreciation, and perhaps a toast?”
“I could probably manage that, though certainly an advance look at the exhibits will be in order,” He just hoped they would not be so awful that he would struggle for something pleasant to say.
***
After the almost heavy peace of the castle, the village appeared positively bustling when Leonard walked down with James later in the day. Among the few ordinary working folk was a surprisingly large number of ladies and gentlemen. Most of them were unknown to him, but some did look vaguely familiar. However, none appeared to recognize him, which was unusual for the Duke of Vexen. People passed with civil nods and polite murmurs of “Good afternoon,” but he detected no curiosity or even much interest.
He decided he rather liked the anonymity.
James pointed to the far end of the village square. “That large building must be the assembly rooms her ladyship spoke of.”
“I believe you are right. Is such an edifice not somewhat incongruous in such surroundings?”
“Unusual, certainly,” James agreed.
A large bill on the front doors of the assembly rooms proclaimed the exhibition of art and musical evening tomorrow. The doors were locked, but opened promptly to James’s knock.
“His Grace of Vexen, to see the exhibits,” James said grandly, and the door was at once thrown wide.
Beyond a vestibule was a large gallery lined with framed pictures and dotted with sculptures.
“We’ll be building Your Grace a little platform just there,” claimed the man who had admitted them and closed the door hastily behind them again, “where you can address the guests.” He flung one hand to the door on the left. “That is the musical room. And there, at the end of the gallery, is the banqueting hall.”
“Banqueting hall?” Leonard repeated, amused. “It sounds very grand.”
The man grinned. “It isn’t, but it’s big enough, and there will be an excellent spread. We have some wonderful cooks. I’ll leave Your Grace to look around. Shout if you need anything at all!”
Leonard, expecting very little, moved toward the first picture. What he really wished to do was return to the castle and explore further, and to potter in Lady Whitmore’s considerable library to discover what he could about pre-Norman settlements here.
But the charming water color depicting the natural harbor and the sea caught his attention. So did the portrait of the old fisherman, and the sculpture of the child.
“I’ll tell you what, James,” he began with considerably more enthusiasm, “these...” He broke off as a pure, clear, feminine voice sounded from the closed door on the left. At first it was a single high note. Then the unknown woman sang a scale, up and down again. A man’s muffled voice spoke, a pianoforte sounded, and the woman began to sing again.
Her exquisite voice sent chills of pleasure down his spine. Without a word, he strode past James and across the gallery to the door, determined to get closer.
A surprisingly young lady stood in the center of the room, hands folded casually in front of her as the most divine sounds he had ever heard slipped sweetly from her lips. Such a voice could make one weep with joy or sorrow. Already it caught at his breath. And that was before he really looked at her.
Night-black hair and creamy skin, a face of almost sculptured beauty, from her large, brilliant eyes to the soft, shapely lips from which fell such enchanting music. She was simply lovely.
And Leonard, for the first time in his life, was utterly dazzled.
She. She is the one.
***
Sarah’s voice stopped, quite without her permission. She could not breathe.
This was not how he was supposed to see her! She should be in her most elegant evening gown with her hair dressed à la Grèque. She should be singing with confidence, at her absolute finest. Not practicing scales and trying out snippets of songs to see where in the room her voice sounded best.
But at least he was gazing at her. As if he couldn’t look away. Her heart missed a beat. Her chin came up in the haughty look she had practiced so long in front of the mirror.
And Arcadi, bless him, exploded to her rescue.
Throwing up his hands, he strode across the room, demanding, “Who in God’s name are you to interrupt us?”
The duke’s superior black eyebrow twitched upward, though he did not take his eyes off Sarah. “Vexen. In God’s name or anyone else’s, who are you?”
“Arcadi. And I command you to go!”
At last the duke’s gaze released her. She didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed to have lost his attention.
“Fernando Arcadi?” he said, frowning in apparent surprise. “Why yes, so you are. I heard you sing at Covent Garden.”
“You are to be congratulated,” Arcadi pronounced. “And if you don’t get out this instant, you will never hear anyone sing again, least of all my pupil. Shoo!”
For the first time a hint of amusement entered the duke’s intense dark eyes. “My good man, I am not a goose.” He bowed to Sarah. “I beg you will forgive the interruption. Good day.”
Sarah seemed to be rooted to the spot. What she wanted to do was throw him a careless nod of dismissal, but that would hardly have displayed her newly exquisite manners. She dropped a rather rigid curtsey and waited for the door to close behind him. Then, she tottered to the nearby stool and sank down on it before she fell. Her whole body was shaking.
This is ridiculous! How am I supposed to take revenge when a mere glimpse of him does this to me?
Of course, it was just the shock of seeing him. No one had told her he was in Whitmore yet… Well, the next time she would be ready.
Arcadi was so irritated with her distraction that he ended the rehearsal early and stormed off, stating that he washed his hands of her.
“No, you don’t,” she said affectionately. “And I promise I will be better tomorrow.”
“Ha!” said Arcadi from the open door.
Sarah, her heart beating fast, took her time donning her pelisse, bonnet, and gloves, and replacing her music in its case. Then she walked out of the room and into the gallery.
She saw him at once near the front door. He could have been waiting for her—or he could just have been examining the pictures. Either way, he swerved to intercept her.