Only a Rogue Knows

by Rebecca Lovell

  “A music store? Here in Greenley?” This was news to Cordelia, and Victor smiled broadly. “Why did no one tell me this?”

  “I can’t say,” Victor said. “But I can tell you that the gentleman in question teaches composition. You might want to speak to him and see what he has to say.” They stepped out onto the sidewalk together and Cordelia waved at her driver, who was about to get off the carriage.

  “I’m going to the music store,” she said. “You can wait for me here or meet me down there, whichever is easier for you.” The driver nodded and relaxed on the seat, and Cordelia turned to Victor. “All right, show me this music store.”

  They walked down the street together and Cordelia wondered if people were watching them and suddenly realized she didn’t care. If Arthur was flaunting his young men around town she could walk down the street with Victor. She wasn’t quite bold enough to walk close enough to him to touch his hand but she felt rather scandalous all the same.

  “You know, I was in there a day or two ago and couldn’t help thinking about you,” Victor said. His words made Cordelia’s heart beat faster but she didn’t look up at him for fear he would see her thoughts reflected in her eyes.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I’ll confess I considered buying a book or two for you, but I knew you wouldn’t think it was appropriate.” There was a teasing tone to his words and Cordelia looked up to see that he was grinning like a schoolboy. “Not that I care, of course, but I didn’t want to overstep my bounds. At least not yet.”

  “My goodness, Mr. Pembroke, you seem determined to make me blush,” Cordelia said, trying not to sound as flustered as she felt. Victor moved a little closer to her and brushed the back of her hand with his thumb.

  “It’s working, then,” he said, lowering his voice. “There’s nothing so beautiful as a blush on a woman’s cheeks.”

  Cordelia was spared the necessity of coming up with a reply by their arrival at the music store, and Victor opened the door for her.

  “After you, Lady Whittemore,” he said, gesturing for her to lead the way.

  “Why, thank you.” As she stepped over the threshold, he touched her back for a long moment and she could feel the heat of his hand through her dress. The appropriate response would be to ask him to take his hand off her, but at that moment she could have cared less what was appropriate. She looked up at Victor and held his gaze, then walked up to the counter where an older man was carefully stringing a violin. “Pardon me, sir, but may I see your piano music?”

  “Of course, Lady Whittemore!” He came around the counter and led her to a bookshelf that held a number of music books. While he explained how the books were arranged, Cordelia was certain she could feel Victor’s eyes on her. She kept her attention on the shopkeeper, asking him questions and pretending she couldn’t tell when Victor joined them at the bookshelf. The shopkeeper smiled at Cordelia.

  “I’ll leave you to your browsing,” he said. “If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Thank you, I will,” Cordelia said as he went back behind the counter and picked up the violin again. She turned her attention to the books and shook her head. “So many choices,” she said, in awe of the selection at the store she hadn’t even known existed until that afternoon.

  “Yes,” Victor said, his voice low and more than a bit intimate. “But I’m certain you’ll make the right one with a little expert assistance.” Cordelia chose not to answer this, afraid of what she might say. Instead, she looked over at the shopkeeper behind the counter and cleared her throat.

  “Excuse me, sir? May I inquire about the gentleman who teaches composition?” Victor didn’t move from her side and she couldn’t say that she minded. It wouldn’t help either of their reputations but for the moment she decided to just enjoy it. If only we could be alone together again, she thought. It was easier said than done, though, and she turned her attention to the shopkeeper, deciding that it was a problem she could think about later. Much later.

  Thirteen

  “Composition all comes from the mathematics,” the young man who had introduced himself as Maurice DuVerne said. He was French but his accent wasn’t overwhelming and his English was excellent, which meant Cordelia wasn’t distracted by trying to figure out what he was saying. “I’m certain they educated you in the mathematics in school.”

  “Oh yes,” Cordelia said. “I was actually quite good at arithmetic.”

  “That will help you a great deal.” He drew an oval on one of the blank bars on the sheets he’d brought with him. “You already know the whole note, yes? Also the quarter and eighth notes?” Cordelia nodded and he smiled. “Good, very good. I shall teach you the other notes such as the sixteenth and thirty-second and how to translate the music in your mind onto the paper.”

  “This is very interesting,” Cordelia said. “I will admit to having melodies in my head that I’ve made up sometimes but you say that you can teach me how to write them down? How?”

  “You shall sing them for me and I shall show you how to write them,” Maurice said grandly. “Soon you will not even need my help. Will you play a bit for me? I would like to hear the level of music you are on at the moment.”

  “Of course,” Cordelia said, standing up from the table they had been sitting at in the conservatory. “I don’t wish to be rude, sir, but how much will your services cost? I’d like to know so my husband can write you a cheque.”

  “Do not concern yourself with that,” Maurice said as she led him to the piano. “Monsieur Pembroke has already assured me that he will be paying for everything you need.”

  “He what?” Cordelia’s eyes widened. “He most certainly will not! We shall pay you properly ourselves. My goodness.” She turned away from Maurice, not knowing how long she could keep herself from grinning. Victor wanted to pay for her composition lessons. She couldn’t believe he would even make such an offer.

  “It is too late, madame. He has already paid me in advance.” Cordelia stared at him with her mouth open and Maurice shrugged. “He said he enjoys the music you play a great deal and wanted to make sure you learned as much as possible.” He smiled. “You have what we call en Français a patron.”

  “I never asked him to do that,” Cordelia said, putting her fingers on the keys. Inside she was jumping for joy. In addition to everything else he was doing for her, Victor had paid for her lessons and it made her ecstatic. She wished she could go down to his office at that moment and hug him. “Do you have a preference what I play?”

  “Whatever you wish, madame.”

  Without so much as a glance at the sheet music, Cordelia played one of her favorite pieces for Maurice, a quick and upbeat piece that made him nod his head as he listened. She saw the music in her head as she played, and the familiar feeling of freedom came over her. It felt good to play and even better to know that Victor cared for her.

  “Very nice, madame, very nice. Have you ever played a piece for four hands?” Maurice smiled at her and she shook her head.

  “You mean two people playing at the same time? Goodness, no. I didn’t even know such a thing was possible.” She was already learning so much from this young man she could hardly believe it. It seemed there was more to music than just playing alone in the conservatory and she wanted to know more and more.

  “I brought some music with me,” he said, going to the bag he had brought along. “Would you like to try a piece with me?” He took out a book of sheet music and Cordelia nodded eagerly.

  “Oh yes! It sounds like it would be quite fun.”

  “It certainly is.” Maurice brought the book over and opened it on the music stand. The music looked more complex than anything she’d played before and he pointed to one set of notes. “This is the section you play. This is the section I will play. The hardest part of playing the piece like this is focusing on your own set of notes. Are you ready?”

  “I suppose I am,” Cordelia said uncertainly. Maurice gave her an encouraging smile.<
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  “You will do fine. I will count us off. Un, deux, trois, quatre, begin!” He began playing at the same time she did and Cordelia’s eyes moved over the music. It was easy enough to follow her half but some of it caused her to reach over and around Maurice and she bumped elbows with him a few times. It wasn’t frustrating, though, it was fun and she found herself laughing as she played. Maurice was laughing as well, and there were more than a few mistakes and missed notes, but she was enjoying herself all the same.

  “Excuse me,” a voice at the conservatory door said, and Cordelia stopped playing and turned to see Mrs. Richmond standing in the doorway. She had her usual disapproving look on her face and for the first time Cordelia wondered if there was any other look she was capable of. She wasn’t doing anything that could be construed as improper, yet there the old woman was. “There’s a delivery for you.”

  “A delivery?” Cordelia stood up and looked curiously at Mrs. Richmond. “I’m not expecting anything at the moment, perhaps it’s for Arthur.”

  “It’s a gentleman who asked for you specifically,” Mrs. Richmond said. “He says he has your grandmother’s necklace.”

  “Ah! Yes, that must be Mr. Russell.” She turned to Maurice. “Thank you for the lesson, Monsieur. Shall we meet again at the same time next week?”

  “Oui, that would be best. I shall leave some blank paper for you. Try copying down some of your favorite music so that you will learn how to write notes properly. The treble clef gives many people trouble.” Maurice collected his satchel and put it over his arm.

  “Oh, don’t forget your music!” Cordelia picked up the sheet music he’d set on the piano and he shook his head.

  “Please keep it,” he said. “Study your part and we shall try playing again at our next lesson. I would like you to learn to play this way so you will know how to write it as well.”

  “Let me walk you to the door,” Cordelia said, motioning to the conservatory door. Mrs. Richmond walked behind them, keeping an eye on Cordelia as firmly as if she was a teenager again. She’d always thought of it as just a fact of life but for some reason it was starting to get on her nerves. She wasn’t a schoolgirl to be minded anymore, she was a woman, grown and married.

  In the front hallway, Mr. Russell was standing just inside the door with a box in his hands. When he saw Cordelia approaching, he smiled. Cordelia nodded to him, then opened the door for Maurice.

  “Thank you again, Monsieur. I shall see you next Wednesday.” Once he was gone, she turned to Mr. Russell. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today, sir. I thought we had agreed on tomorrow.” She couldn’t help being a little disappointed. She hadn’t been into town since she’d dropped off the necklace, so she hadn’t had another chance to see Victor either.

  “I finished this morning and couldn’t wait for you to see it,” Mr. Russell said, handing her the box. “Besides, if I don’t give these old legs a good stretch once in a while they start to ache.”

  “You walked all the way out here? My goodness, please come sit down!” Cordelia led him into the sitting room and motioned to a chair. She looked at Mrs. Richardson. “Could you please have the maid bring him in something to drink?” Cordelia looked at her guest. “Would you care for some ginger beer? Our cook makes American-style lemonade as well, it’s quite refreshing.”

  “American-style, you say? I don’t believe I’ve ever had that. Yes, I’ll try a glass.” As soon as Mrs. Richmond was gone he handed her the box. “Here you go, my dear. It turned out to be much more beautiful than I expected under that tarnish. And all the stones are real, not a one is paste.”

  “I thought as much.” Cordelia opened the box and inhaled sharply. “Oh my, it’s beautiful, Mr. Russell. It looks just as I remember it from when I was a little girl.” She picked up the necklace, which now sparkled in the light. “Thank you so much.”

  “It was no trouble at all,” he said. One of the serving maids came through the door of the sitting room with a tray, on which a single glass of lemonade sat. “Thank you,” Mr. Russell said, taking the glass. “I didn’t expect there to be quite so much lemon in it.” He took a sip, then smiled broadly. “Wonderful. It was certainly worth the trip out here.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Cordelia carefully put the necklace back in its box and got up from her chair. “If you’ll just wait here a moment, I’ll get a cheque from my husband for you.”

  “There’s no rush,” Mr. Russell said, shaking his head and taking another drink of his lemonade. “We can settle the account at the end of the month. I would like to see your gardens, if I could. My wife is trying to grow roses and they’re just not doing well.”

  “Certainly,” Cordelia said. “I don’t see how our roses are going to help hers, but I’m glad to take you through the garden.”

  “I do love flowers, but my wife’s roses keep dying. I don’t believe that it’s the soil or the water she’s using, the problem is with her. I’m afraid she just doesn’t have the skill for it.” Mr. Russell stood up and held up his glass. “Do you mind if I bring this along?”

  “Not at all,” Cordelia replied. “I often like to have something cool to drink in the garden. Let’s go out the front door, there are some lovely pink roses right off the front walk.” She led the watchmaker to the door and he nodded.

  “Yes, that’s what made me think to ask.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Cordelia pulled the door open and found herself face to face with a deliveryman who had his hand raised to ring the bell. “Oh,” she said, surprised. “You must be here to see my husband. If you’ll just step inside, someone will be with you in a moment or two.”

  “Actually, this package is for Lady Whittemore.” The deliveryman looked at her. “I take it that’s you, then?”

  “It is,” she said, looking at the brown-wrapped package, “but I didn’t order anything.”

  “Perhaps it’s a present,” the deliveryman said impatiently. “Could you just take it, ma’am? I’ve got other packages to deliver.” Cordelia nodded and he thrust it into her arms. “There you are. Have a good day, ma’am.”

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” Cordelia sighed and turned to Mr. Russell. “Do you mind waiting just a moment?” He shook his head and she smiled. “Thank you.”

  She carried the package into the house, hoping to run into one of the staff, and by chance Patricia was coming down the stairs. Her eyes widened when she saw Cordelia carrying the package and she hurried down to take it from her.

  “Thank you, Patricia. Could you take this to my room for me? Just set it on the bed and I’ll open it when I get a moment.” The girl nodded and went back up the stairs with the package. It was slightly oversized and a little awkward to carry, and Cordelia was glad she wasn’t the one who had to deal with it. She tried for a moment to guess what might be in it from the way it looked in Patricia’s arms, but remembered her guest and hurried back out to the garden. “Thank you for waiting,” she said. “Come on around the house with me, I’ll show you my favorite roses.”

  A good hour later, Cordelia bid farewell to Mr. Russell and invited him to come back with his wife for dinner sometime. She had offered to have him driven back to town but he insisted on walking. She waited until he was at the end of the drive to go back inside.

  “What a kind man,” Cordelia said to Mrs. Richmond as she closed the door. “I wish everyone could be so nice.” They went into the sitting room and she picked up the box with the necklace in it. Mrs. Richmond made a disapproving noise. “Whatever have I done this time?”

  “I can’t believe you just left that down here where anyone could come take it.”

  “No one is going to take it,” Cordelia said, irritated. “Apart from Arthur, there’s only me and the staff here and I hardly think any of them would be interested in something like this.” She opened the box and looked down at the necklace. “It’s very pretty but I don’t think it’s particularly valuable.”

  “Even so---”

  “I’
m going up to my room,” Cordelia interrupted, before Mrs. Richmond could really get started on her lecture. “My lesson and walking around the garden have tired me out and I’d like to lie down before dinner.”

  “Very well,” Mrs. Richmond said. “If anyone else comes to the door for you, I shall tell them you’re not to be disturbed.”

  “Please do.” Glad to be freed of Mrs. Richmond’s suffocating stare, Cordelia hurried up the stairs and went into her bedroom. She put the box with the necklace in it on her dressing table, then sat down to take off her boots. They were far easier to get off than put on and she had them off in moments, wiggling her toes with relief.

  When she went to lie down, however, the box that had been delivered earlier was on her bed and she looked at it. It was the size of a dress box, which only served to make her more curious. She picked up a nail file and cut the string, then tore off the brown paper to reveal a pinkish box with the words “Ellery Of London” printed in gold on the front. Frowning, Cordelia opened the box and took out a layer of tissue paper, then gasped.

  Lying inside on a bed of tissue was the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen. When she picked it up, it only got more wonderful. It had a skirt in shades of light blue and green that reminded her of ocean waves, a cream-colored top with puffed sleeves and gold accents, and what looked like a jumper made of thousands of blue and gold beads that dripped from the square neckline to where her knees would be. Matching embroidery and beads decorated the hem of the skirt and Cordelia put her hand over her mouth.

  “My Lord,” she breathed. “Who would send me something like this?” She laid the dress on the bed, then looked through the box for a card. She didn’t see one, so she picked up the tissue paper she had taken off the top and found a small envelope tucked in it. It was sealed and Cordelia pulled it open, eager to see who had sent her such an extravagant gift.

  My dearest Cordelia, the card read. I hope it fits, I had to guess the size. Think of me when you wear it, and imagine I’m as close as the fabric against your skin. There was no name on it but Cordelia knew immediately who had sent it. Her cheeks were on fire as she read the card again, her eyes taking in every angle and curve of Victor’s handwriting, and she hastily tucked the card back into its envelope and stuck it at the bottom of her jewelry box. Her husband might be having affairs with all the young men in Greenley but a part of her still wasn’t prepared for anyone to find out she’d kissed another man in secret.