by Diane Gaston
Xavier listened through the whole song before leaving. Phillipa always knew when he was there.
After he left, she played in waves, happy music drifting to songs of love lost or lovers’ deaths, then back to something joyous or frivolous.
* * *
At the end, there was gratifying applause. She stepped away from the pianoforte and chose her refreshment, taking it to the table in the corner that gave her some privacy.
Until Lady Faville approached her, that is. ‘You did very well this night, Miss Songstress.’
This lady’s approval held no importance. ‘Thank you.’
Lady Faville sat without being invited to. ‘Does Xavier not look handsome tonight? More handsome than usual, do you not think?’
To Phillipa he looked wonderful every night. ‘He is a very well-looking man.’
Lady Faville laughed. ‘You are always so careful not to say too much.’
That was perceptive of her, more perceptive than Phillipa would have given her credit. ‘I must be discreet.’
With this lady, Phillipa played the employee. It was what Lady Faville and most of the patrons wished to think of her. An employee would be careful what she said about an employer or his designated manager.
Lady Faville leaned across the table. ‘Has he said anything about me? Did you talk to him about me?’ She was forever wanting Phillipa to convince Xavier of her regard and she hoped Xavier would tell Phillipa of his admiration.
In truth, Xavier talked so very little about himself that she truly did not know from his lips how he felt about the lady. Most of the gentleman preened and strutted around Lady Faville, but Phillipa did not ever see Xavier doing so. A man as handsome as he had no need to do so.
‘I cannot presume to talk to him about you,’ Phillipa told her for what seemed the hundredth time. ‘And our conversations are not such that he would mention any patron.’
Lady Faville gave her a sceptical smile. ‘You know I do not credit that. You do not tell me all.’ She released an exaggerated sigh. ‘I do not know what kind of friend you are, to hold back what is so important to me.’
She was no friend at all, Phillipa thought. ‘I am holding back nothing.’
Except, perhaps, that she wished Lady Faville to leave her alone. It was painful to Phillipa to be the lady’s confidante, to hear of her intent to marry Xavier, to know the wealthy young widow would be a prize any man would covet.
Lady Faville put a hand on Phillipa’s arm. ‘I know you will say nothing to me, but I do count on you to be my very dear friend.’
Sometimes Lady Faville was so charming that Phillipa could almost like her, but it was difficult to like someone who had everything you lacked.
* * *
She’d almost finished her final set when Xavier returned. His presence disturbed her in a pleasurable way, making her both self-conscious and bold in her piano playing.
When she was done, he walked her down the stairs. ‘The piece before your last one, was that one of your compositions?’
It had been the bagatelle she’d laboured over for so many hours and days. ‘Yes, it was.’
He shrugged. ‘It reminded me of the gaming room somehow.’
She stopped. ‘Do not say it. That is precisely the sound I was attempting to recreate.’
He grinned. ‘You accomplished it.’
She felt like skipping the rest of the way.
When they sat in the hackney coach and she pulled off her mask, she asked him about his night, if there were any problems in the gaming room.
‘One fellow lost too much,’ he told her. ‘I feared for him; he was so despondent.’
He’d told her stories of men who’d lost fortunes and killed themselves. Her father lost a fortune and merely tried to cheat his way out of it.
‘What did you do?’ she asked.
He turned to her, his features muted in the dark coach. ‘I gave him a loan.’
‘Will Rhysdale approve of that?’ she asked.
‘I have seen him do the same from time to time,’ he responded. ‘But I did not use his money.’
She knew what he would say. ‘You used your own money.’
He shrugged. ‘I did.’
Her breast swelled with pride for him. What a fine thing to do.
How was she ever going to give up knowing him, talking to him every day?
She promised herself that she would savour every moment at the gaming house and with him. She would hold every moment in her heart and never let go of them.
The hackney coach pulled up to its usual place on her street, but before Xavier opened the door, he took her hand. ‘I enjoyed your performance tonight, Phillipa.’
Before she could speak, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was a short kiss, but one that took her breath and left her weak.
He opened the door and Xavier jumped down to help her out. ‘Goodnight, Phillipa. Sleep well.’
She kept hold of his hand. ‘Goodnight, Xavier. I will see you tomorrow night.’
He pressed her hand tighter before letting go. She turned to walk the short distance to her town house, but had gone no more than two steps when two men jumped from the shadows.
Xavier grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him.
‘Phillipa, do not hide from us,’ a familiar voice said. Her brother Ned.
‘Who is this with you?’ Hugh, her other brother, demanded.
The jarvey called down, ‘Need assistance, sir?’
Xavier walked over to him and paid his fare and his tip. ‘You may go, Johnson, I’ll be walking back tonight.’
‘After I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk,’ Hugh said.
‘You’ll do nothing of the sort!’ Phillipa cried.
The coach pulled away.
Xavier held her arm again, but spoke to Hugh. ‘Hugh, it is Xavier. I can explain this.’
‘Xavier!’ Hugh was taken aback. ‘What the devil? You are the man carrying on with my sister?’
‘It is not what you think,’ Phillipa broke in.
Xavier still kept hold of her. ‘May I suggest we not discuss this in the street?’
‘Come. All of you,’ Ned ordered.
Xavier held Phillipa’s hand as they followed him to the town house.
Her brothers were back from Brussels. The ending she dreaded had come without warning.
This had been her last night to perform her music.
Her last night with Xavier.
* * *
What a blasted mess, Xavier thought as he followed Ned into the town house. They walked directly to the drawing room where Lady Westleigh was seated.
Where was General Henson? Hiding in a closet somewhere? In Lady Westleigh’s dressing room, perhaps?
‘We found her, Mama,’ Ned said.
‘And the man.’ Hugh, with a disgusted expression on his face, gestured in Xavier’s direction. ‘Xavier Campion.’
The countess’s brows rose when she saw him. ‘Xavier Campion!’
He bowed. ‘Lady Westleigh.’
‘I cannot believe this of you.’ She shook her head in dismay. ‘Your mother is my friend.’
‘Mama,’ Phillipa cried. ‘You must allow me to explain.’
‘Explain?’ Ned faced her. ‘We come home in the dead of night and discover you are not in your bed. Your maid, after much coercion, finally confesses that you leave the house every night after everyone retires. You return three hours later.’
Three and a half hours, to be more precise, Xavier thought.
‘And it is Campion you were sneaking out to see.’ Hugh glared at him. ‘Taking liberties with my sister.’
‘Liberties!’ Phillipa cried. ‘He took no liberties.’
; Except that he’d just kissed her, but he could not regret that.
‘Listen to her explanation,’ Xavier demanded.
‘Very well.’ Lady Westleigh leaned back in her chair.
Phillipa spoke. ‘I have been attending our gaming house. The Masquerade Club.’ She held up her mask that had been gripped in her hand all this time. ‘I play the pianoforte there and I sing.’
‘You sing?’ Hugh shot back. ‘Like a common—’ He did not finish.
‘The gaming house?’ Ned cried. ‘You were not supposed to know about the gaming house.’
‘I was not supposed to know many things of great import to our family, apparently.’ Her chin rose.
Hugh swung towards Xavier. ‘Rhys told her, didn’t he? What business was it of his? Just because he joined the family did not give him the right.’
Xavier shot him a quelling look. ‘I told Phillipa. Not Rhys. Rhys knows nothing of this. He is not even in town.’
Lady Westleigh tossed him a very worried look. ‘Precisely what did you tell her—?’
‘About Father,’ Phillipa cut in. ‘About our debt and how Rhys helped our family, only to have Father cheat him and challenge him to a duel. About how Ned and Hugh took Father to Brussels where he agreed to stay.’
‘Good God, what didn’t you tell her?’ Hugh said.
There was more he didn’t tell her. Couldn’t tell her.
‘See, Mama, I have not fallen apart.’ Phillipa raised her arms. ‘I learned all this and I still stand before you, the same as always. I have attended a gaming house and performed music there and I remain in one piece. I am unfazed by your secrets. I did not need to be protected from them. I do not need protection from anything.’
She was strong, Xavier did admit, but not without need of protection. What might have happened to her if she’d been alone when they were attacked?
‘You obviously needed protection from Campion here.’ Hugh leaned into his face. ‘What the devil is wrong with you, Campion? You can have any woman you want. Why trifle with my sister? Were you bored with the pretty ones?’
Xavier seized Hugh by the front of his coat. ‘Do not insult her. Do you heed me?’
He pushed Hugh away and Hugh lowered his head. ‘I didn’t mean it that way. Not how it sounded.’
Phillipa swung towards Hugh. ‘Xavier has been a perfect gentleman towards me. He escorted me to and from the gaming house, because he knew I would walk there alone if he did not.’
Ned glared at her. ‘Phillipa, you cannot spend time alone with any man in the middle of the night. If this becomes known, your reputation will be ruined.’
‘That is a laugh, Ned.’ She pointed to her face. ‘What do I need a reputation for?’
Ned turned haughty. ‘Well, I, for one, will not have the lady to whom I am betrothed besmirched by your loose morals.’
‘Stubble it, Ned.’ Xavier wanted to strike him. ‘Your sister has not displayed loose morals—’
‘Listen to me,’ Phillipa broke in again. ‘I wanted an adventure and I have had one. Xavier made certain I was safe while doing so. It is ended. It is over. No one else knows. Leave it. There is nothing to be done.’
Ned seemed to consider this.
Even Hugh settled down somewhat. ‘He did not seduce you?’
‘He did not,’ she answered.
Xavier reined in his temper. Matters were calming down. Ned and Hugh were beginning to see reason.
Ned blew out a breath. ‘I suppose...if no one knows...’
‘Let it be as Phillipa desires,’ Xavier said.
His attention shifted to Lady Westleigh, who’d developed a very calculating look in her eye.
‘I must return to the Club,’ Xavier said. ‘I am usually gone only a few minutes.’
He slid a regretful look at Phillipa.
She nodded her approval. ‘Leave, Xavier,’ she said. ‘It is over. There is no harm if no one knows, and who would tell?’
Not Cummings or MacEvoy, Xavier would see to that.
He bowed to Phillipa and to Lady Westleigh. ‘I bid you goodnight, then.’
Lady Westleigh rose. ‘Not so hasty, young man.’
He stopped and turned.
She looked like a player holding the winning cards. ‘It is of no consequence that you did not steal my daughter’s virtue. Or that no one will know you carted her off in the middle of the night. You still behaved very dishonourably. You have compromised Phillipa and you know what honour dictates you do.’
Yes. He understood very clearly.
Lady Westleigh intended to manipulate him into marrying Phillipa.
* * *
‘No!’ Phillipa cried. ‘No, you cannot do this, Mama. It is not fair.’
She had never foreseen this, never even dreamed it could happen.
She turned to Xavier. ‘Do not listen to her.’ She swung back to her mother. ‘This is wrong, Mama. You must not require this of him.’
‘Must I not?’ Her mother actually looked smug.
‘Mother,’ Ned began. ‘Perhaps this is not the thing to do.’
Her mother’s eyes flashed. ‘Of course it is the thing to do. Mr Campion knows what honour requires of him, do you not, Mr Campion? He must marry her.’
Phillipa could not bear it. To ruin his life like this? It was all her fault. ‘Xavier, do not heed her. My family will say nothing. No one will know. No reputation will be ruined. There was no harm done.’
He turned to her mother and brothers. ‘Allow me to speak with Phillipa alone.’
‘No.’ Her mother straightened her spine. ‘Call upon us tomorrow. We will discuss the particulars.’
Her mother acted as if the decision had been made.
He glanced at Phillipa, who nodded her assent.
‘I’ll call tomorrow.’ He bowed.
Phillipa watched him walk away through the doorway until she could see him no more.
She whirled back to her mother, angrier than she had ever been in her life. ‘How could you do this to him?’
Even Ned spoke up. ‘Mother, maybe it would be better to hush this up.’
‘Xavier doesn’t want to marry her,’ Hugh added.
Her mother stood. ‘Go to bed, all of you. We will discuss this in the morning.’ She started to the door.
Hugh rubbed his hands. ‘I’m not going to bed. I’m going to the Masquerade Club. Someone should check on things if Rhys is not there.’
Ned looked wary. ‘I had better go with you. The last thing we need is you getting into a dust-up with Xavier. Then there will be talk.’
‘Leave him alone,’ Phillipa said to their departing backs. ‘He deserves none of this.’
Her mother patted Phillipa’s arm as she also passed. ‘Do not concern yourself over Xavier, dear. Think of this as good fortune.’
Good fortune? It was disaster. Cruelty. Pain.
She was left alone in the room, but it took several minutes until she could make herself walk to her bedchamber.
As soon as she opened the door, her maid cried, ‘Oh, m’lady, I did not mean to tell them. I tried not to, but your mother was so insistent. And then she tricked me and made me say what I promised I would not say.’ She reached into her pocket and took out a purse. ‘Here is the money you paid me to be quiet.’
‘Keep it, Lacey,’ Phillipa said in a weary voice. ‘I do not hold you to blame.’
‘Oh, thank you, m’lady.’ The girl bobbed. ‘I am ever so grateful.’
‘Just help me out of this dress and into bed.’ Phillipa rubbed her face.
A few minutes later she was between her bed linens and her maid had gone. Her head and her heart ached.
One thing was certain. She would not allow Xavier to be coerced into marrying her. No ma
tter how much her mother connived.
Chapter Ten
Xavier was glad for the walk to the Masquerade Club. He needed the physical exertion and cool night air.
Those cursed Westleighs. He was angry with the lot of them.
Except for Phillipa. How could they treat her so shabbily? Had they given any care to what she did before this? Perhaps if they had shown some interest in her, some support of her music, she would not have had to venture out on her own and put herself in peril.
Xavier knew he’d done what he must. She would have braved the streets alone had he not escorted her. He certainly did not regret allowing her the chance to perform. Not when it brought her such joy.
Honour might dictate that he marry her, but honour be damned. It must be what Phillipa wanted, not what suited the rest of them.
He’d speak to her alone. She alone must decide. By God, he’d marry her if that was what she wished, but only if it was her wish. Not her mother’s. Not her brothers’.
Not even his.
Xavier knew what he wanted. He wanted to whisk Phillipa away from them. All of them. He wanted to find a myriad of ways to give her the joy she’d found performing her music. Because it was not only she who had found joy in this interlude. He had, as well.
But she must want it. She must choose.
He reached the town house and sounded the knocker. Cummings opened the door to him. Xavier left him his hat and gloves and went straight to MacEvoy, who informed him that nothing eventful had come to his attention.
He left MacEvoy and went next to the gaming room.
As soon as he walked in the room, Daphne was beside him.
‘Did you get our lovely Miss Songstress back to Covent Garden?’ she asked in her dulcet-toned voice.
He faced her directly. ‘Daphne, I have no patience for your nonsense tonight. Tell Mr Everard to take you home.’
For an instant she looked as if he’d slapped her and he was sorry he’d taken out his ill temper on her.
‘That was unkindly said,’ he spoke more softly. ‘I apologise for that, but you should spend your time elsewhere.’
