What the hell is happening to me? I am fighting with my best friends over a woman.
He numbly followed the others over to where they were to play. His heart continued to thump hard in his chest. When he picked up his violin bow, he was dismayed to see that his hand was shaking.
Kendal caught his eye for an instant, at which Owen just shook his head. He was as much at a loss over his behavior as his friend.
The hostess for the evening came and stood alongside Reid at the front of the room. She was beaming with self-satisfied pride. Having the Noble Lords and Marco and his group play for her guests on the same bill was quite a coup. Kendal had read it right; this was going to be a bear and dog fight.
As he set bow to string, Owen pushed a worrying thought to the back of his mind. Just exactly who was the bear and who was the dog in this conflict?
Once the Noble Lords began to play, he let the joy of the music wash over him. For Owen, playing the violin was the next best thing to making love to a beautiful woman. It touched his soul.
By the time they finished with a lively Beethoven sonata, his fiery temper was back under control. He would speak to Kendal and get things sorted. The small apologetic smile Kendal had earlier thrown his way during a concerto by Vivaldi, which garnered a nod from Owen in return, was enough for him to know that neither of them were proud of what had happened.
At the end of the sonata, Owen set his violin down. He was ready for a drink and to mingle with friends. Diana had not made mention that she would be here tonight, but she did have a playful tendency to suddenly appear at functions.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Reid get to his feet. The rest of the Noble Lords all murmured their surprise. Whatever Reid was up to it was not part of the set for this evening. Owen winced. Hadn’t Reid learned from his prior experience of making a small change to the end of a song? If he tried something new, Kendal was going to kill him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have one last performance for you this evening. It is a new rendition of the famous aria Vedro con mio diletto. For this, I will be singing as a tenor. I hope you enjoy it.”
There was nothing to be done. They were a group and, like it or not, they had to support Reid. Owen and Callum exchanged worried looks. Callum, who was uncharacteristically not deep in his cups frowned but lifted his flute to his lips.
Kendal clearly held the same opinion, because as Reid took a deep breath and prepared to sing, the musical virtuoso began to play the opening notes of the accompanying music.
Their singer was a little rough at the beginning, which Owen took to be nerves, but Reid soon began to hit the right notes. A ripple of appreciative applause fluttered through the audience. Reid was going to do them all proud.
And then he faltered.
One stray note became a series of them. Owen followed Reid’s gaze; it was fixed on Marco Calvino. Reid, no! Oh fuck.
When an unkind boo came from the front row, Owen glared hard at the rude patron. But nothing he did could save his friend.
As the last notes of the aria died on Reid’s lips, Owen’s heart went out to him. Reid’s burning desire to be more than just an adequate singer had seen him risk public humiliation. As Reid stood red-faced at the front of the room, Owen’s gaze turned to Marco and his cousins. While Marco had the good grace to smile smugly, Antonio and the others were laughing loud and long.
Owen made a silent vow. Whatever it took, he would have revenge on the Italians for the way they had treated Reid.
You bloody bastards. I will get you for this.
Chapter Thirty-One
“That is terrible. He did a brave thing by staying to hear the Italians play. I don’t know if I would have been able to do that,” said Amy.
Owen’s retelling of the awful events following Reid’s failed attempt to sing as a tenor left her with an overwhelming sense of pity for Viscount Follett. Reid had put his reputation and pride on the line only to fail in the endeavor and see it all crash before him.
She snuggled in close and Owen wrapped his arms around her. It had been almost a week since they had last seen one another, with Colin insisting that she should not see Owen before they left London.
The days in between had been torture. Colin had kept a close eye on her, shadowing her every step when she attempted to leave the house. He knew his sister too well, knew that she was not going to get over Owen anytime soon. Colin didn’t trust her not to do something foolish when it came to her duplicitous fiancé.
Amy didn’t trust herself either—or at least, she didn’t trust her heart.
Today’s secret meeting was being conducted in a different part of Hyde Park, away from their usual rendezvous point. Amy had sent her maid on a long errand to Covent Garden before slipping out the house and hiring the coach. Colin had a business meeting this afternoon, which he could not cancel. She felt bad about lying to her brother once more, but she couldn’t help herself; she had to see Owen. She was torn between loving him one minute and planning his murder the next.
“Reid had no choice but to stay and watch the Italians perform. If he had left it would not have looked good. Live by the sword, die by the sword. I did warn him not to do anything reckless, but he decided he had to show his singing teacher he could do it,” he replied.
“And what did his singing teacher say? Was he angry?” she asked.
A soft chuckle rumbled in Owen’s chest and she looked up at him.
“Well, that is one of the other interesting developments in the world of the Noble Lords. It turns out that Reid’s singing teacher is a woman. Lavinia Jones is her name, and from what he tells me she is a force to be reckoned with; between you and I, it wouldn’t surprise me to discover that Reid has developed a crush on the Widow Jones,” he replied.
And what about you, Owen Morrison? Do you have feelings for anyone other than yourself? Or are you just a man of pretty words?
Amy closed her eyes. Why was she here with him? Owen was an unashamed rake and whoever said that rakes could be reformed clearly didn’t know what they were talking about. A leopard never changed its spots, and a man like Owen could never be faithful to one woman.
“If she is a widow that should not present Reid with a problem. I mean, if he really does love her there would be no impediment to his offering her marriage,” said Amy.
Owen huffed. “I can’t see the next Viscountess Follett being a former widowed singing teacher. These things are just not done, no matter how much Reid might think otherwise.”
Amy pulled out of Owen’s embrace. They only had a few minutes before the coach driver was due to return.
As the minutes ticked away, so did her hope.
The heart knows its way. I just wish it wasn’t to this man.
“So, you are telling me that if you fell in love with a woman who was not from a titled family, that you wouldn’t offer her marriage? I mean, what if, for instance, something was to happen to my husband?” she said.
She watched him carefully, saw the look of doubt which appeared on his face. When he swallowed hard, Amy gritted her teeth.
You hadn’t considered that little complication, had you?
If she took one good thing away from today it was that she was finally able to refocus on Owen’s faults. This afternoon of bliss with him would be their last. Her heart may still yearn for him, but her eyes were wide open to the truth of Owen Morrison.
“But your husband is well. Is . . . is he not?” he stammered.
With her view of Owen now clearly in sharp relief there seemed little point in continuing the discussion of the widowhood of Mrs. William Smith. Owen would not be marrying anyone who didn’t come with a large dowry.
As far as she was concerned, she had done her duty to her father, and had every right to call off the betrothal. She felt oddly obliged to feel sorry for Owen. While she could walk away from this betrothal, he would still have to go through with finding a rich bride in order to save his family.
Her decision made, sh
e endeavored to change the topic. To walk away with at least some other memories of their last time together.
“You said there were several developments with the Noble Lords. What are the others?”
“We are going to perform at a charity concert at the Sans Pareil theatre on the Strand. It will be a proper show with paid tickets available to the public. All monies raised will go to helping the widows and orphans of Waterloo. Reid is going to continue practicing his tenor skills and then he will showcase them on the night,” Owen replied.
“A real concert. Gosh. And again, I am in awe of Lord Follett. To not only get back up and perform in public again, but to do it on the stage takes a strong resolve,” she said.
Owen took hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing it tenderly. Amy inwardly sighed. When Owen wasn’t being a callous and manipulative bastard, he was the epitome of a warm and kind lover.
“Will you come to the concert? It’s the Friday after next. It would mean a lot to me to know you were in the audience,” he said.
Two weeks from Friday. Amy was not going to be in London by then. Colin had already begun to make noises about them going home to Rickmansworth. He seemed particularly keen to get the confrontation with their father over her and Owen’s betrothal done and dusted.
“I am not sure. I may still have visitors at the house. William’s family has a puritan streak running through it, which means they don’t hold much with music and dancing. Dancing especially is considered sinful,” she replied.
Thank god for the hardline puritanical Smith family. They were most handy for refusing all manner of invitations to laughter and merriment.
Owen frowned and sighed.
“But I will endeavor to make it if I can,” she added.
“Good.” He slipped a hand under her chin and lowered his lips to hers. Amy gave in to the heady spicy scent of his cologne, clutching onto the lapels of Owen’s jacket as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.
His other hand settled on the round of her arse, which he proceeded to knead as he held her hard against him. He pulled briefly out of the kiss and whispered into her ear, “The middle of July is soon. I have been faithful to you. This touching and playing with our mouths and hands will only keep my burning desire for you at bay for so long. Diana, promise me that when your husband’s family have gone you will let me into your bed. I must have you.”
She nodded. “I promise you that when this is all over, I will give you everything you deserve.”
Everything and more.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The decision had been made between the four of them that Reid would not sing again in public until the charity concert. He would continue his intense lessons with Lavinia, polishing a special song for the show. A song which he would sing as a tenor.
With Reid not performing, the rest of the group had to quickly add more pieces of music to their set, hence the need for extra rehearsals.
The Noble Lords practiced late into the night over the next few days. The only good that came from those late nights was that Owen was dog tired by the time he retired to bed in the evening, and he had little time to miss Diana before he fell asleep. He still paced the front foyer of Follett House each and every morning on the off chance that her husband’s family had left London and he and she could finally meet up again.
With all the preparations for the charity performance, Owen had put to the back of his mind the other problem which was waiting for him at summer’s end. Lady Amelia Perry was a difficulty he was going to have to not only face, but to marry.
“I know the four of you would rather not be attending this show tonight, but this booking was made some time ago. And I, for one, am not going to tell a cabinet minister that the Noble Lords are not playing at his sixtieth birthday party just because they are afraid of a bunch of Italian musicians,” said Eliza.
Reid gave his sister a withering glare. They all had their various reasons for not wishing to attend the gala tonight. Reid was working long hours every day with Lavinia Jones, perfecting his voice. Kendal was dealing with private family dramas which he steadfastly refused to discuss.
And Callum’s drinking had reached a point where he had missed more than one show during the past week, resulting in a row with Reid the likes of which Owen never wanted to see ever again. Even tonight, they were waiting on Callum to make an appearance so they could all leave for the party.
As for himself, he was tired. Tired of hiding from his father, who had sent word that he was back in London arranging meetings with his creditors. Tired of the infighting within the Noble Lords; there were days when he could cheerfully have throttled both Kendal and Callum. But most of all, he was tired at heart. All he longed for was to wake every morning with Diana in his arms, and for just one moment, forget all the other drama.
“It’s an important party this evening, so of course the Noble Lords will attend. No one is going to let Marco and his cronies get one over on us,” said Kendal.
Owen rubbed his hands together. The thought of beating the Italians stirred him from his self-indulgent musing. “Absolutely. And now that word has gotten around town that they have had to move into cheaper lodgings, the luster of our Venetian friends is beginning to fade. If we can sell enough tickets to the concert at the theatre, we might even be able to get them to give up on London and leave.”
Eliza raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Yes, I had heard that from several quarters. Something about a bad deal with their manager.”
“That will teach them to come over here and try to steal our women,” said Kendal.
“My sentiments exactly. You live by the sword; you die by it. Or something like that,” said Reid.
Owen glanced down at his violin case. He recalled having said the very same thing about Reid to Diana only a matter of days ago.
Reid pulled his pocket watch out and checked the time. Then, with a sad shake of his head, he looked at his sister. “We cannot wait for Callum any longer. If he shows, and for his sake, he had better, tell him we have gone on ahead.”
“And if he doesn’t, or he is three sheets to the wind?” asked Eliza.
Reid’s gaze shifted to Kendal, who nodded. He then looked to Owen. The unspoken question was one which they had all been mulling over for several weeks. A hard decision had to be made if they were to try and salvage both the Noble Lords and their friend. Owen reluctantly nodded his agreement. It had been his idea to form the group, so he would take the ultimate responsibility for who stayed and who went.
“Then you tell him to pack his bags,” Owen replied. “He is out of the group.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Amy and Colin arrived outside the gala birthday party a little after eight. This party was the social highlight of the summer. No matter Amy’s decision regarding her betrothal to Owen, their father would still expect his children to represent the family tonight.
She delayed getting out of the carriage for a time, unsure of herself. This evening was probably the final time she would see Owen in her secret guise. After tonight, he would never again see Mrs. Diana Smith.
“This may be your final opportunity to see both the Noble Lords and the Italians play,” said Colin.
The music was the least of her concerns. What she and Colin had agreed to do was all that concentrated her mind.
Come tomorrow, she and her brother would be on the road home. She had kissed Owen Morrison for the last time. Never again would she touch his naked body or have her fingers trace the lines of his beautiful tattoos. After tonight, it would all be over. Owen would be left in no doubt as to that fact.
She was now certain in the knowledge that he would never make her happy. If she was foolish enough to marry him, she would forever be wondering where he was and with who. Her nights would be spent alone in her bed, craving the love of a man who could never commit his heart and soul to one woman.
While the rest of London society were all gathered at the Sans Pareil for the grand
performance of the Noble Lords, she would be back in Hertfordshire steeling herself for her father’s disappointment over her refusal to marry Owen Morrison.
It was going to be the hardest conversation of her life. Telling him that his best friend would soon lose much of his estate because she couldn’t bring herself to marry an unashamed adulterer was going to be a bitter moment between father and daughter. She wondered if their relationship would ever recover.
Papa, I am sorry. But I would rather disappoint you than live a desperate and lonely existence with Owen.
The situation was not one of her making, and she just couldn’t bring herself to sacrifice her heart in order to please her father and Lord Lowe. There had to be another way for the Morrisons to save the family estate.
“It just seems cruel to do it to Owen in public,” she said.
Colin nodded. “Yes. I know, but even you have to admit that you are not strong enough to call a halt to this relationship in private. If you jilt Owen in the middle of a party, he won’t dare make a scene. He won’t like it, but he will bear it.”
Colin was right. If she didn’t have the willpower to stay away from Owen, how could she expect to be able to break up with him when they were semi-naked inside a secluded coach? The answer, of course, was that she couldn’t do it. A public end to their private arrangement was the only way.
Amy roused from her thoughts of what was to happen this evening and the worry of what would come after tonight. She summoned a smile for her brother, but tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I hear the Noble Lords have sold a lot of tickets for the charity concert they are holding at the Sans Pareil next Friday. Isn’t that wonderful? It’s a pity we won’t be in town to see it,” she said.
Colin reached out and took a hold of her hand. “You can do this, Amy. I know you can.”
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