by Eva Devon
Eloise nearly choked on her champagne. “Whyever would I put him out of sorts?”
Mrs. Drake smiled slowly. “You can’t imagine?”
Eloise shook her head, the sapphire ear bobs dancing against her neck.
“I can,” Mrs. Drake teased.
Eloise leaned forward. “Will you tell me?”
Mrs. Drake pursed her perfect lips, considering. “No, not yet, I think. I shall keep my theories to myself and we shall see if they play out. Now, come along, my dear, come along. I wish to introduce you to the company. And then you must sing for your supper.”
“Company?” she said, alarmed.
“Why, of course, the opera company!” Mrs. Drake replied, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “The people you shall be showing whether or not you are capable of performing upon the stage.”
Eloise had to ignore the urge to plant her feet into the floor. “I was warned that I am not to speak much.”
“You will not be required to,” Mrs. Drake assured, easing her along with a wicked smile. “Dart about with your eyes. Say little. When one says little, one can be very alluring.”
“Not in my experience,” Eloise whispered to herself.
Mrs. Drake had to have excellent ears. For above the din, she heard and tsked. “Hollybrook finds you alluring. And besides, you are doing very well keeping yourself to yourself. I know nothing about you, you know.”
Eloise frowned. “I assumed Hollybrook wrote in the note all about my situation—”
Mrs. Drake cut in, wagging her finger. “Never assume anything. You never know what someone else knows or does not, so you must be careful with what you say and how you act. Now, I suggest that you do your very best to look a trifle mysterious, and to look extremely confident. After all, Hollybrook thinks that you’re lovely, therefore everyone else in this room shall think that you are most desirable. All you have to do is stand in your magnificent frock and have a slightly mysterious smile.”
Eloise could not think. This was what she had come for, wasn’t it? Yet sheer terror stole over her in this moment. She was going to have to finally sing before people she admired more than anyone else in the world. Where had her dreams and confidence gone?
“Hmmm.” Mrs. Drake stopped, turned to her and narrowed her gaze. “Perhaps Hollybrook was mistaken. You don’t wish this opportunity.”
“Of course, I do,” Eloise rushed, panic racing through her. “It is why I’m here.”
“Then imagine yourself to be Helen of Troy or some such. Everyone will fall at your feet.”
Eloise frowned. “Helen of Troy met a rather dodgy end.”
Mrs. Drake laughed before she squeezed Eloise’s arm. “You must have been hidden away and kept very downtrodden to have so little confidence in yourself.”
“Well, it hasn’t exactly been a particularly encouraging last few years,” she admitted. But downtrodden? She wasn’t downtrodden! She was bold. Hollybrook had affirmed it and liked her for it.
“Shed that, my dear. Shed that like a snake sheds its skin,” Mrs. Drake said firmly. “It is time for you to become something new and glorious. You have fine feathers, my dear. You are no ugly duckling. Let us show the world what a swan you are.”
Mrs. Drake was correct.
She wanted this.
So, girding her proverbial loins, she followed Mrs. Drake across the room to a jolly looking group of people who were happily drinking wine and laughing as if the world was the most wonderful place.
“My darlings,” Mrs. Drake drawled, her voice rich and dripping with enthusiasm. “Let me introduce you to the most lovely Miss Estella Cartwright. She is to join our company.”
The singers immediately grew silent.
Their eyes swung to Eloise, gazing at her up and down, clearly seeing that she might be a little bit of competition.
“Now, now, now,” Mrs. Drake said. “Darling cats, do not put out your claws. She is a particular favorite of Hollybrook. So we must embrace her. And she’s a dear sweet creature who shall be the most wonderful addition to our crew. She’s a jolly young lady and she shall make every single one of you shine upon the stage. I simply know it,” Mrs. Drake said. “No missed notes, I’m certain.”
And the company, who all seemed to adore Mrs. Drake, suddenly beamed and laughed.
“Of course, you are welcome,” one particularly fine young man said.
“Come, come, come, join us,” an older gentleman declared.
“And we shall find out all about you,” trilled a pretty redhead.
“No, no, no,” Mrs. Drake said. “She’s quite shy. Just down from the country. She shall not be uncovered! At least not tonight.”
One of the other young men laughed. “Of course, she shall be uncovered if she’s Hollybrook’s mistress. She’ll be uncovered every night, afternoon, and morning. That man is randy as a goat.”
Mrs. Drake laughed and hit him lightly with her fan. “It is true. And, of course, she shall enjoy every moment of it.” She leaned towards Eloise and said quietly, “Hollybrook is renowned for his prowess.”
The young redhead’s eyes lit with curiosity. “Will you not tell us a few details?”
Eloise gazed at them with shock.
No one had ever asked her such a thing in her entire life.
And she also had no story to tell.
She also realized that the question was not asked with any sort of malice. It was asked with genuine interest. They were all curious about her relationship with Hollybrook, but what would she say? What could she do?
So, oh so slowly, she swallowed, raised an eyebrow, smiled and said, “My dears, one can never expect a young lady fresh from the country to divulge her secrets. Give me a few weeks to have adventures worth sharing.”
They all gazed at her for a long moment and then laughed.
“From the country, you say?” asked the older gentlemen as he drank his wine. “My goodness, this young one, she’s not as innocent as she might wish you to believe.”
The redhead laughed happily. “I can see it. She knows what she’s about. Already been about the boards, my dear, in the country?”
Eloise smiled again and said, “Alas, my life in the country was dull as ditch water.”
They all laughed at that.
A handsome young man with golden hair winked. “I don’t believe that for a moment. We shall never get her secrets out of her unless we give her another glass of champagne. Pass her another glass of champagne.”
She took it and sipped at it very carefully, meeting Mrs. Drake’s eyes. She found that she liked them. They were all jolly and rather loud but incredibly kind. None of them were asking her questions out of malice or mockery.
“What is your favorite role?” another young lady asked.
“I have not had an opportunity to decide,” she admitted. And it was true. “There are too many to love.”
“Another secret,” sighed the blond young man. “You are full of them. We shall tease them out of you one by one over this year, we promise.”
“Well, I shall look forward to it then,” Eloise replied with a quirk of a smile. “It shall make the year most interesting.”
Mrs. Drake laughed. “I think that she looks like an ingenue. Don’t you, Tom?”
Thomas Hargrave, the principal opera singer of Hollybrook’s theater, studied her. She knew who he was. How could one not when one loved the theater as she did?
He eyed her slowly up and down. “She looks as if she could dandle us all on a string if given a chance, but can she sing?”
“I can,” she declared.
Everyone stared at her.
Hargrave strode to the harpsichord, whipped his coat tails back, and sat. “Show us.”
She licked her lips. “Now?”
“Is there a better time?”
“Now is the best time,” she agreed, placing her champagne flute on a passing tray.
“What shall you sing?”
She could be safe. She c
ould sing something simple. But she knew her capabilities. Leveling Hargrave with a determined look, she stated, “Der Holle Rache.”
All eyes swung to her.
The opera known in English as The Magic Flute had the highest aria in all opera canon.
No doubt they thought her mad.
“Shall we warm you up?” Hargrave asked.
She nodded. She’d be a fool not to if he offered.
And with that, he hit a note and, without allowing herself to think twice, her breathing relaxed, her diaphragm expanded, and she softened her throat.
Up and up she went. And as she did the entire house fell silent.
Again and again Hargrave took her up the scale. She lifted her soft palate, allowed the notes to resonate, and felt the glory of the moment.
She had been born for this and practiced days on end.
And when he began the first notes of the aria, she felt pure joy as she sensed the wild excitement in the room and knew that all eyes were upon her. At long last.
Chapter 11
St. John could not draw breath. The power of her was too immense.
He stared at Eloise, completely stunned.
As she stood at the other end of the party, the last notes of Mozart’s most famous aria wafting through the air, he was mesmerized.
He had thought that, yes, he would be giving her her dreams, this opportunity to come before the men and women of his company and sing for them.
He had thought that might be the end of it, that they would all discover that she was really no particular singer, that she was someone who might perhaps find a place in the chorus. Perhaps she had an acceptable voice. Or perhaps they’d discover that she really did belong in the genteel life she’d been born to.
She did not.
And she was most certainly not an ingenue. She was a prima donna.
Dear God, how had such a voice been denied for so long? He’d never heard it once in all the time he’d spent listening to young ladies sing after supper or at musicales, of that he was certain. Her mother had denied her the opportunity to sing for a particularly good reason. Because once Eloise sang, no one would ever able to forget that it was she who had. Nor would they ever forget her power.
That voice had to be the most incredible of the age.
It was pure, perfect, rich, nuanced, and resonated with so much power he feared that emotion deep within him would well up.
He, the Earl of Hollybrook.
Indeed, he was forced to swallow back a wave of feeling.
What madness to feel so much emotion at such a song.
St. John took a step forward and applauded.
She met his eyes and beamed at him. “Are you pleased, my lord?”
“Pleased?” he echoed. “How can I be pleased? Pleased is not a strong enough word when one is exposed to perfection.”
“Perfection,” she repeated. “Perfection is not possible,” she returned. “Only pursued.”
He shook his head. Eloise must know how talented she was. And he thought back to her seeking him out in his chamber, come what may. She did know. It was why she had risked everything.
He crossed to her in awe. “There is not a voice like yours in all of England. I doubt, in fact, there is a voice like yours on the entire continent.”
As she turned slowly, she took in the amazed stares of Mrs. Drake, Mr. Hargrave, and the company.
Everyone was silent, for they knew that they were witnessing something unique.
Eloise was a star in the making, and he had discovered her.
No, that was a falsehood.
She had pressed herself upon him. She had insisted upon her greatness, for she had known it in the very depths of her soul.
Unlike so many would have done, she had not retreated into the shadows and accepted her fate as a wallflower.
No, she had seized fate with both hands.
“You are a marvel,” he said, “and we shall not allow anyone to be in denial of it, least of all yourself. We shall share your talents with the entire world. I cannot wait to do it.”
“Hargrave,” he called. “You shall begin to rehearse tomorrow. Pick a piece for her. Pick something unique, something passionate, something that will show the world her skill.”
Hargrave nodded and inclined his head in a bow.
Mrs. Drake began to applaud again. “My dear, I was so happy to have you in our company for you seem a very pleasant person, and of course you are a friend to the Earl of Hollybrook. But now, I find that I am lucky merely to be with you. I think you and I should be doing a duet in the future. After all, two great ladies can always make a great performance. We shall be friends, allies, and partners, and I am happy to go with you on this journey.”
Eloise’s eyes shone with unfettered happiness. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much that means. I have admired you for so many years, but this opportunity? I am truly grateful to you and the Earl of Hollybrook. For, without him, none of this would be possible.”
St. John caressed his thumb over her palm, the touch lacing him with electricity and undeniable need. But this was her moment. “Do not be foolish,” he said. “Without your voice, the whole world would be denied something truly beautiful. I am the lucky one, and never forget it.”
For he never would.
He would never forget that a young lady had come into his rooms determined to make her dreams come true, and that he had listened. He had not shunted her aside. He had decided that dreams were worth having. Unlike his father. And that was a trump for them all.
Chapter 12
Eloise could not sleep.
Even if her sheets were silk, her bed made of feathers, and the room the most beautiful she’d ever slept in.
The evening had been far too exciting.
She’d thought to only be an observer, but instead she had become a participant.
It had been glorious, indeed; every moment of it more thrilling than the last. She’d never expected to be so completely and thoroughly accepted by such a glamorous set.
And she’d never anticipated how it would feel to be applauded so wildly when the last notes of the aria had slipped past her lips.
Eloise tossed and turned on the silk bedsheets, stared up at the muraled ceiling, and let out a sigh of delight.
How lucky was she? Her boldness was paying off in spades.
The house that she lived in for this temporary period was beyond beauty. The clothes that she wore were nothing like the ones that she had been forced to wear in the past. Silly, missish things.
Now she could wear rich, handsome clothes and be with fascinating, talented people.
And she no longer had to behave as a sheep.
No, she could be whatever she wished to be.
She fancied herself a bit of a lioness.
There was no need now to try to fit in and to be like others. She could let out a roar and be herself.
It was the most wonderful thing.
She let out another sigh of happiness. She’d written a note of triumph to Lucy before bed. It was all down to her friend’s encouragement that she was here. And of course, Hollybrook.
She would never forget his assistance.
Eloise owed him a debt of gratitude that simply could not be described or repaid. For it was he who’d taken her and introduced her to the very people she belonged with.
She knew it in the deepest part of her heart.
Oh, she loved her mother and father dearly, and her friends perhaps even more so. Her friends had been supportive and understood her need to sing in public. But her own mama. . . Oh, she wished that her mama could have seen how important singing was to her.
No one understood the way that the notes flowed through her veins, or how she felt as if she was flying when soaring through certain songs.
The sheer joy of singing composers like Mozart? It was indescribable. How fortunate was she that she would get to do so now without having to hide away in a room in a small house away from all who mi
ght hear her?
Every bit of her body all but sang with excitement for it.
A loud noise cut through her reverie.
Eloise tensed, clutching the sheet.
The London townhouse was particularly beautiful and in the newest, most wealthy area of town. Even so, it sent a jolt of alarm through her.
The noise was a gruff shout.
She quickly realized it was Hollybrook’s voice.
He had chosen to stay the night in the townhouse with her, and she admitted she was greatly appreciative. She’d never stayed alone in a home before.
Though she knew that there were a few servants in the house, it did give her a level of confidence knowing that she was not entirely with strangers.
Perhaps he was a stranger too, but he did not feel strange. He already felt like an intimate friend. Someone who knew about her deepest secrets in a way that no one else did.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, picked up her robe, and pulled it on, belting it under her breasts. She did not give it a second thought as she went out into the dark corridor and followed the sound of his rough voice.
What could be amiss?
Had he drunk too much brandy?
Was he ill?
She did not know what she would find, and she felt her body taut with apprehension.
The feeling rushing through her was one of grave concern. The tenseness of his voice nearly undid her.
Perhaps a wiser woman would have stayed in her room and waited to see if he desisted. But she was not wise in this regard; she knew that. She was bold.
She was going to follow her instincts. Her instincts had rewarded her, and she wouldn’t abandon them. And in this, she could not leave him to what sounded like torment.
She knocked on his door.
He did not answer.
Eloise did not hesitate. She thrust the door open and strode into the large chamber.
Quickly, she spotted that he was in his bed, moonlight streaming down upon him as he thrashed about in the sheets.
Without a thought, she rushed to the bed and took in his face, which was contorted in agony. His beautiful features were a map of pain.
