“Perhaps it will,” said Deborah.
Chapter 32
Both Deborah and David were dazed by the time they entered the park, but David still had enough presence of mind to greet several acquaintances with a wave of his hand. His face lit up, Deborah couldn’t help noticing, when a statuesque blond pulled her horse over to the carriage and leaned down to say hello. It was clear that whoever Lady Barbara Stanley was, she knew David well and liked him even better. After her introduction to Deborah, Barbara made sure to include her in the conversation, but there was not much Deborah could add to the news of mutual acquaintances they were trading back and forth.
“Do you like music, Miss Cohen?” inquired Barbara.
“Why, yes I do,” replied Deborah. “Very much.”
“David, I am having a musical evening next week to welcome Wardour back to town. I have extended an invitation to the Duke of Wellington and I think he will attend. Perhaps Miss Cohen would like to be your guest?”
David assured her that they would both love to attend. “And speaking of music, Barbara, I do not think I ever thanked you for sending Alec Gower to me. I have enjoyed his company almost as must as his music. Will he be among the musicians?”
Barbara hesitated. It would indeed seem odd if she did not hire someone she herself had recommended. “Perhaps, if he has no other engagement.”
“You must have him there if Wellington is to be present.”
“I suppose I must, then,” said Barbara with a smile. “Would you do me a favor and ask him?”
“Of course.”
“It was delightful to meet you, Miss Cohen. I will be looking forward to seeing you again when we have more time for conversation. Good-bye, David.”
As Barbara turned her mare and trotted away, David reached for Deborah’s hand and said, “I am pleased I was able to introduce you. Lady Barbara is a good friend.”
Deborah drew her hand away. “I could see that,” she replied coolly.
“You did not like her, then?” asked David.
“I think the question is how much you like her. You seem very close.”
“We became good friends almost immediately that we were introduced.”
Deborah hated herself for asking, but couldn’t help it. “Did neither of you want more than friendship? She would seem the perfect choice of bride for you. You move in the same circles, share a love of music…”
“Actually, Barbara is quite a talented musician herself.”
“She would be,” Deborah muttered, not quite under her breath.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing. It is just that I am wondering whether you spent so much time with me this summer because Lady Barbara was out of town.”
“As instantly as we became friends, Barbara and I agreed that we would not suit as anything else. Is it jealousy that is making you waspish, Deborah?”
Deborah’s voice trembled as she answered. “If you wish to make a place in English society, it is clear that someone like Lady Barbara is more appropriate for you, David.”
“Aside from the fact that we are not at all attracted to one another physically, Lady Barbara Stanley would never be allowed to marry a Jew. Her family is liberal, but not that liberal. And they are far from destitute. I have had a few chances already to marry into the ruined nobility, my dear, and have never even been tempted. Plain Miss Cohen is the bride I want.”
“Plain Miss Cohen?”
“Your words, my dear, and I can see I will have to kiss you into submission again to convince you. But before I do, I want you to know that you are the equal of any woman I’ve ever met, titled or otherwise. I love you, my dear.” And David leaned over and proceeded to prove it.
Chapter 33
Barbara spent the next week alternating between nights at home to avoid a chance encounter with Mr. Gower and nights spent in a frenzy of activity to keep her mind off her musical evening. As it turned out, he was not playing for any of the events she attended. Why she had ever given him David’s name, she didn’t know. She did know. She had wanted to see him again. She still wanted to see him again, but it was a futile and shameful feeling, she told herself. Surely she had discovered that a quiet and steady affection seasoned with physical compatibility was what she wanted.
When Wardour finally arrived in London, his welcome was all that a prospective husband could wish for and more. If Barbara did not quite run to throw herself into his arms, neither did she wait for him to be shown into the morning room. She was in the hall just after he was announced, and the expression on her face was all that any fiancé could hope for.
“I am delighted to see you, Peter.” Barbara drew him into the morning room and, shutting the door, lifted her face for a kiss.
Wardour bent down and gave her a gentle kiss. Surely the fact that I want him to kiss me more passionately is a sign that I am not lost, she thought. But why am I always left wanting more?
“I can only stay for a moment or two, but I wanted to see you,” said Wardour. “I have to help Mother settle in. But we have an invitation to the Hardwicks’ tonight. Will you be there?”
“I will be now,” Barbara replied. “And my invitations? Did you receive them?”
“We did, and it sounds delightful, my dear. Until tonight.” Wardour drew her into his arms for another kiss, one that was far more satisfactory, and Barbara decided that her doubts were just the normal pre-wedding nervousness.
* * * *
Alec had spent the past week with one eye on his instrument and the other looking for Lady Barbara Stanley. He couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved when he found himself playing at a gathering that did not include her. Sir David was present on a few of these occasions, and always took time to come up to the musicians and chat with Alec for a few minutes.
“Are you engaged next Wednesday night?” David asked him the night after he had spoken with Barbara.
“No,” said Alec. “Did you want me for the evening?”
“Actually, it is Lady Barbara who wishes to hire you.”
Alec’s face registered his surprise.
“I saw her in the park yesterday,” explained David. “She is having a small gathering and would like you to come and play. The Duke of Wellington has been invited, so this is a great opportunity to demonstrate your talent.”
“Wellington?”
“The Stanleys know him quite well. Major Stanley served under him at Waterloo.”
Aye, and the Duke of Strathyre knows him very well also, thought Alec. He’s only met me briefly, though, and I don’t resemble my grandfather at all, so perhaps I will be safe. At any rate, it is too late to invent a previous engagement now.
“The duke used to play the violin, you know, and was supposed to be very talented.”
“Then he will be a critical audience. I hope I don’t disappoint him.”
“I hardly think there is any danger of that, Alec. I will be looking forward to next week.”
As I will not, thought Alec as he watched David return to his friends. Not only would he see Barbara, something he wanted and dreaded at the same time, but he would be risking exposure. It would be better to take the coward’s way out and leave town, he thought.
But one week later he found himself knocking at the side entrance of the Stanley home, early enough to be introduced to the other musicians and become familiar with the acoustics of the music room. They were to play quartets this evening, and it did not seem that Lady Barbara would be playing. Alec was relieved that she would be safely in her place as hostess, which would keep distance between them. The other musicians were known to him and quite competent, but not of his caliber, and he carefully monitored his playing so he did not stand out for his superiority. It was something he was used to doing. It was something he had not had to do with Barbara, which had made playing with her such a joy.
The musicians were fed downstairs while the guests were enjoying their own dinner, so at least there was no fear of discovery over th
e soup or sweet, thought Alec. Perhaps he would be lucky and the duke would have forgotten him.
When the quartet entered the drawing room, the guests were still standing and chatting in small groups. Alec saw David looking down protectively at a small, red-haired woman whose dress was pretty, but by no means comparable to the gowns of the other women. He wondered who she was.
Wardour was there, of course, and his mother. They were in deep conversation with an elegant matron with raven-black hair, their backs to David and his companion. Barbara and her brother were talking to the duke and his wife.
If they all just sit down at once, I am safe for a while longer, thought Alec.
To his great relief they did. Major Stanley introduced the musicians, and they began to play.
After polite applause at the end of several pieces, Alec was optimistic. They would just finish their concert and pack up the instruments, and the guests would resume conversation. He wouldn’t have to worry about the duke, and after tonight he would not see Barbara at close quarters again. And then he heard Lady Wardour chirping, “Peter, my dear, isn’t that the Mr. Gower who played such a lovely duet with Barbara? Do see if we could get them to play that Mozart again.”
Of course, once he had heard the story, Robin joined Lady Wardour in her request. The duke was nodding and smiling, and then looking at Alec with a crease between his eyes as though he was trying to place the talented Mr. Gower.
Alec let Barbara do the protesting. He was a hired musician, after all. If they had wanted him to play left-handed, he would have had to try.
Of course, she lost. The Vanes added their pleas, not having had the pleasure of hearing her play for so long. Robin had the pianoforte pushed out from the corner. And Barbara, her knees shaking, went up to Alec and apologized for imposing on him.
“I don’t even know if I can get through it, Mr. Gower,” she confessed in a low voice.
“Dinna fash yourself, lass,” said Alec, knowing that would make her smile, which, thank God, it did, for how could they play Mozart, and her looking as if she’d lost her best friend? “What you forget, I’ll remember, and vice versa. Once your fingers are on the keys, they will know what to do.”
And indeed, after a few stumbles in the first measures, Barbara’s fingers found their way and she lost herself in the music. They played even better than they had at Arundel, and she thought the sweetness of his playing would break her heart.
When the music ended, no one applauded. Alec and Barbara didn’t even notice, for they were only aware of each other. They were two musicians, a man and a woman, playing two quite different instruments, and yet they had become one voice.
Wardour broke the spell when he got up and approached his fiancée. “That was quite wonderful, my dear. Almost as good as at Arundel.”
Barbara gave him a dazed smile. It took her a moment or two to comprehend who he was and what he had said.
Wardour’s move brought almost everyone up to the two to congratulate them. Deborah had not wanted to, but David grabbed her hand, and she shyly gave her compliments to Barbara while David shook Alec’s hand. Barbara took Deborah’s arm and moved away from the pianoforte. “Come, sit down with me, Deborah, and tell me how you met David,” she said, anxious to get away from the praise and from her acute consciousness of Alec’s presence.
The duke was the only one who had remained in his seat. Alec had brought back memories of his childhood and youth. His father and he had both been talented amateurs, and occasionally, when he heard playing like this, he was filled with regret for what had been long gone from his life.
He finally unfolded himself from his chair and approached the Scotsman, who was, if he was not mistaken, the grandson of his old acquaintance, the Duke of Strathyre.
David turned and pulled Alec over to Wellington. “I would like to introduce you, your grace.”
“No need,” replied the duke. “I am quite sure this talented young man is—”
“Overwhelmed by the privilege of playing for you.” Alec broke into the Duke’s revelation and shook his hand with a bone-crushing strength while looking him pointedly in the eyes.
“Hmmm, yes, er, no, I am the one overwhelmed,” replied the duke, now certain that this was indeed Alec MacLeod. It was clear that the young man did not want to be identified. David was looking at the duke and was surprised to see the sadness in his eyes as he continued his compliments.
“I used to play the violin, Mr.—?”
“Gower, your grace. I did not know that.”
“Oh, yes. Music was my greatest love at one time. But when I realized that I would always be an amateur and needed to put my energy into a career, I burned my violin and haven’t touched one since.”
Involuntarily, Alec turned, as though to reassure himself that his own beloved instrument was safe.
“Yes,” the duke continued, “I had to be quite ruthless. I have never regretted it, however, except on those rare occasions like tonight when I hear someone who has married his art rather than abandoning her, as it were. And yet music, I think, is not a career choice for a gentleman,” he added, looking directly at Alec.
“It is not a usual one, your grace. But sometimes it is the music which chooses you.”
“Well, I hope to hear you play again, Mr.…Gower.”
“Thank you, your grace.”
As soon as the duke was out of earshot, David turned to Alec and said, “Now, who would have guessed that the Iron Duke played the violin once upon a time? And then just gave it up, like that.”
“I can understand it,” replied Alec. “If I could not have music as my life, I am not sure I would continue playing.”
“You are lucky, then, to be free to choose.”
Alec smiled to himself. He was lucky that his grandfather hadn’t refused his wager. And he was lucky that he had silver in his pocket, enough to get home on and more.
“Aye, I am free to choose a part of my life,” he answered, looking over at Barbara where she sat with Deborah. “What wonderful hair! I am always glad to see another redhead.” He smiled. “One can always commiserate on the miserable childhoods we have had, being called ‘carrot top’ or ‘red Alec.’ ”
“Come, let me introduce you to Miss Cohen.”
Barbara sensed, rather than saw, Alec approach, and although she continued to listen to Deborah, she heard only half the words, so distracted was she by the Scotsman’s physical presence.
She smiled at David and thanked him for bringing Miss Cohen, for she was enjoying her company.
“I had hoped you would like each other,” David said. “Deborah, Mr. Gower would like to meet the other redhead in the room. Miss Deborah Cohen, Mr. Alec Gower.”
“Did you suffer from childhood taunts, Miss Cohen?”
Deborah laughed. “I don’t think I have ever gone through one day when someone hasn’t commented on the color of my hair. Sometimes one feels one is only hair as a child.”
“Aye, I know what you mean,” said Alec.
“Or only tall,” Barbara chimed in. “I always felt such a great gawk as a young girl. I was never allowed to forget my height.”
“And I was always too dark,” complained David, and they all laughed.
“It is painful to be different as a child, isn’t it?” said Deborah. “One small thing, and you get teased unmercifully. I used to get into terrible fights,” she continued without thinking, and looked around questioningly as everyone laughed again.
“It was not funny, I assure you. I would come home with my nose bloodied and my dress torn, and my mother was ready to despair.”
“It is just that you are small, Deborah,” said David.
“I gave as good as I got, I can assure you, David.”
“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” David replied, lowering his voice tenderly. Deborah blushed and was about to protest when Wardour wandered over to their little group.
“May I claim my fiancée?” he asked, and smoothly detached her from them, leaving A
lec furious. He had had no time alone with Barbara, which was undoubtedly a good thing, but he resented Wardour’s right to come in and break up their moments of good fellowship.
Chapter 34
“I was right in the middle of a conversation, Peter,” Barbara protested mildly.
“My mother tires easily, my dear, and wanted to spend some time with you before we leave. And I think it best you not spend too much time with Sir David and Miss Cohen.”
Barbara had immediately worried about Lady Wardour feeling neglected as Wardour began. She was in front of his mother before she knew it and had no time to think of the import of Wardour’s other remarks. But later that night she remembered them, and was determined to question him when he paid his next visit.
Wardour himself had been thinking about his brief comments, and wondered if they had been strong enough. He had no objection to Barbara having Sir David Treves as an acquaintance, but he obviously needed to make it clear to her that David could never be included as an intimate, either in town or at Arundel. Especially if he ended up marrying someone so obviously of his race as Miss Cohen.
He decided he would give Barbara a gentle warning the next time they were out in the park. He was surprised but relieved when Barbara herself brought the topic up on their next afternoon ride.
“Peter, the other night you made a comment about the amount of time I spent with Sir David and Miss Cohen.”
“I am glad you brought this up, my dear, for I had intended to say a few more words to you this afternoon. I am sure you will agree with me when I say that it would be inappropriate for you to make close friends of either one of them.”
“Inappropriate, Peter?” Barbara was determined to discover exactly where his objections came from. She suspected she knew, but didn’t want to assume anything.
“Oh, I do not at all question your inviting them for a musical evening. I am liberal enough not to object to you numbering people like that among your acquaintances. But it would not be at all the thing to show them any special attention.”
Lady Barbara's Dilemma Page 14
