Mistress of Melody

by Anthea Lawson

  Two gentlemen emerged from a brightly lit mansion in front of them. One was singing loudly, though not terribly, and the other weaved back and forth. Whether he was dancing or simply stumbling on the cobbles, she could not determine.

  “What ho!” The singer broke off and peered toward them. “Greetings, fellow travelers of the night.”

  “A lady of the night, to be sure,” his companion said. “And could it be? Upon my word—the Earl of Silverton!”

  “Can’t be him. Silverton would never consort with a demimondaine.”

  Jessa sent the earl a wide-eyed glance. The two gentlemen might forget the encounter by morning. Or they might not.

  “Can you keep your seat?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Well enough.” She gathered her reins, and felt her horse tense beneath her.

  The earl spurred his mount forward, and Mayberry was quick to follow. They clattered past the men, and Jessa gritted her teeth against the jumbled trot. Then her horse strode out, falling into a canter, and she adapted to the smooth rocking motion. The drunken lords were left far behind.

  Her hood fell back, and the wind against her face and hair was glorious. Despite herself, she laughed. For one perfect moment, all her cares were left behind.

  They turned the corner, and the earl reined his mount back. Jessa regretfully slowed her own horse, until they were back to a walk.

  “I don’t think they recognized you,” he said.

  Belatedly, she pulled her hood back up. “They certainly knew you.”

  “No matter.” His tone was terse. “You ride well, Miss Lovell.”

  “I miss it,” she said, then bit her tongue. It was no use pining for things she would never have again.

  Wild night rides and kisses from severe earls foremost among them.

  ***

  Morgan covertly studied Jessamyn Lovell as they rode through the night-shrouded streets. She sat her horse confidently, despite being obviously unused to a sidesaddle. During their quick canter, she’d handled Mayberry well.

  What a paradox she was. He wanted to demand if she was aware of her guardian’s criminal pursuits, but that would tip his own hand too clearly.

  And truly, how could she not be aware?

  They turned into Green Park, and the horses’ ears pricked up as their hooves met soil instead of stone. The memory of her spontaneous laughter echoed in his mind—so unlike the well-mannered titters of the young ladies of the ton.

  He glanced ahead, to the silver-lit swath of the green, and the old wildness within him stirred. The green was completely empty, the sounds of Mayfair muffled behind hedges and walls.

  Miss Lovell would not condemn him for unleashing the mad urge to gallop into the night. Indeed, he suspected she’d join him willingly. And he wanted to hear her laugh again.

  “Ready?” he asked, relishing the startled glance she sent him.

  “For what?”

  “To ride.”

  Before she could respond, he sent Sterling forward. Trot, canter, then gallop, the fast gait keeping pace with his racing heartbeat. The moon shone down strongly, as if encouraging him to abandon all caution and dive into the lunacy of the night.

  Behind him, he heard the thud of hooves—and then the sound he’d been listening for. Jessamyn Lovell’s laughter was so full of delight that he could not help but smile in return, though he kept his face turned away.

  Too soon, they reached the end of the green, where the trail narrowed and wound through the shrubbery. Morgan slowed his horse, and she drew up beside him, her dark hair disheveled, her eyes bright.

  “Oh, that was wonderful. Mayberry has excellent gaits.” She patted the horse’s neck with her gloved hand, and he bobbed his head, as if in agreement.

  Her cloak had blown back, and her chest rose and fell. The scent of roses on the nearby bushes filled the air. Their gazes met, held.

  It was the damnable moonlight, the aftermath of the reckless gallop, the indisputably desirable woman before him, her lips still smiling. Everything conspired to make the kiss inevitable.

  Sterling allowed his rider to guide him directly beside Mayberry. A good mount, he remained perfectly steady as Morgan leaned over and tasted Jessamyn’s mouth.

  She gasped slightly, and his tongue slipped between her lips. Hesitantly, she sent her own to meet his, and the heat of it jolted through him. More than anything, he wanted to take her down from the horse and lay her on the moon-swept ground, dew falling from the roses above while he—

  With an oath, he pulled back. He was not so lost to decency that he would ravish her here, in the middle of the green. Despite the fire scorching his blood and the insistent throb between his legs.

  “My lord…” She stared at him, fingers twined in the reins. Mayberry snorted and sidled.

  “My name is Morgan.” He owed her that much, after twice taking liberties he should not have even contemplated.

  Without further conversation, he led them out of the perilous park and back onto the streets. When they reached the outskirts of Westminster, he nodded for her to take the lead. Despite a few furtive lurkers in the shadows, they safely reached a long street lined with shabby, once-genteel row houses.

  Miss Lovell halted. “It’s the blue one, in the middle. Thank you for your escort.”

  Before he could move to assist her, she’d swung gracefully down from her horse and handed him the reins.

  “Good evening,” he said softly. It was the only thing he could say.

  She straightened her cloak, pulled her hood forward, then turned and walked quickly down the street. When she reached the stoop, she glanced back. He lifted one hand, and Sterling shifted beneath him. Even after she had slipped inside and closed the door, Morgan waited.

  No lights bloomed in the upstairs windows, no curtains stirred. Sterling whuffled impatiently. After long minutes, Morgan finally turned and, leading the second mount, rode away.

  ***

  Jessa let out her breath, a faint fog on the windowpane, as Lord Silverton departed. The feel of his kiss still tingled on her mouth, and she traced her lips with one finger.

  “Jessie?” Louisa stirred in her bed. “Are you here?”

  “Yes, love.” She turned away from the window and went to sit on her own bed.

  “Did you get the second talisman?”

  If she told Louisa no, her sister would insist she return again to the earl’s—and that was something Jessa would not do. Her heart and mind were already impossibly tangled whenever she thought of him. Better to keep as much distance as she could between herself and the Earl of Silverton.

  “Well?” Louisa demanded. “What did the Silver Lord give you? A golden coin? A silken rose?”

  Jessa should have at least plucked a flower from the earl’s garden. She pinched the brow of her nose, thinking desperately. The dew dampening the bottom of her skirts would not satisfy, and she must never speak aloud the fact of their kiss. There was only one answer she could make.

  “He told me his true name,” she said.

  “Ahh. That means he must help us whenever you say it.”

  “Perhaps.” Jessa smoothed her sister’s hair from her forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

  “But there will be one more talisman,” Louisa murmured. “There are always three.”

  “Shh.” Jessa began to hum an old lullaby.

  She had no earthly idea how she was going to disabuse Louisa of her fairytale notions. But for now, they were safe.

  When her sister’s peaceful breaths showed she was asleep, Jessa removed her cloak and gown and stowed them in the back of the wardrobe. She would need to brush them well to ensure no stray horsehairs clung to the fabric. But that ride had been worth everything, bittersweet and stolen though it might be.

  More secret still was the memory of the earl’s kiss, the taste of his name on her lips as she fell into dreaming.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Was Lord Silverton glimpsed in loose company late the other night? Unreliabl
e witnesses swear the upright earl was cavorting on horseback through the streets of Mayfair, accompanied by a dubious female companion. The Tattler can scarcely credit such a tale!

  -Tilly’s Mayfair Tattler, July 8

  Two days later, over their thin porridge, Mr. Burke announced they would have a visitor later that day.

  “Make sure you’re dressed nicely,” he said, then pointed his spoon at Louisa. “Especially her.”

  “May I inquire who is coming to call?” Jessa asked, apprehension tightening her ribs. If it involved Louisa, she truly feared what their guardian intended.

  “An acquaintance of mine, who might be able to help us out of our predicament.” Mr. Burke smiled, showing too many teeth.

  Oh, no. She glanced at Louisa, whose innocent expression only heightened Jessa’s worry. Could her sister even comprehend what might befall her? The possible scenarios made Jessa shiver.

  The rest of the morning crawled by. As instructed, Jessa helped Louisa dress in one of her two nice gowns—a pale blue silk that complimented her complexion. Despite the dread circling Jessa, she curled her sister’s hair and helped her pin it up.

  “Who is coming to visit us?” Louisa asked.

  “I don’t know.” The words caught in Jessa’s throat.

  “I like this gown.” Louisa smoothed the skirts with her palm. “It feels like water.”

  Jessa could not voice her usual promises about how one day she would buy Louisa a pretty dress in every color, and bonnets to match. Tales of a bright future were too quickly fading under the shadow of the present.

  For a short while, she practiced her violin, but even the solace of music could not distract her. The notes were angular, the tone thin, and after an unsatisfying half an hour, she put her instrument away.

  She and Louisa ended up waiting in the parlor, where Jessa pretended to read a novel, and her sister drew. Louisa had no talent for it, but her childish scrawls of flowers and oddly formed animals pleased her well enough, and kept her from asking Jessa any more unanswerable questions.

  At last the sharp clack of the knocker resounded through the house. Jessa jumped up and set her novel aside, then helped her sister tidy away her drawing supplies.

  “Remember,” Jessa said, tucking up a stray curl of her sister’s hair, “no matter what happens, I will protect you.”

  Her heart burned fiercely as she regarded her sister’s sweet and trusting smile. Jessa did not know how she would shield Louisa from harm, only that she would.

  But first, she must understand what danger approached. She led her sister to the settee and they perched there on the slightly prickly cushions, hands clasped.

  Footsteps resounded down the hall, and Jessa could hear Mr. Burke’s voice. He was using that oily tone he assumed when he was trying to ingratiate himself with the listener.

  For one wild moment, Jessa imagined that perhaps it was Lord Silverton, come to offer his assistance. She shook the ridiculous notion from her head. He’d already said he would hire her for a garden party, and that was the full extent of his aid. Her and Louisa’s plight meant nothing to him.

  When the door opened, the man standing beside Mr. Burke bore no resemblance whatsoever to the earl. He was thin and stooped, and though he wore well-made clothes in fine fabrics, the colors did not suit him, making his skin appear sallow. His few strands of black hair lay combed across the top of his pink scalp, and his dark eyes were deep-sunk behind a long, thin nose.

  “Here they are,” Mr. Burke said. “The Misses Lovell, Jessamyn and Louisa, my wards. Girls, this is Sir Maurice Dabbage.”

  Jessa let go of Louisa’s hand and gave the man a curtsy, which her sister emulated. “Pleased to meet you,” she said.

  Sir Dabbage peered down his nose at Louisa, and his nostrils flared. “I thought she would be younger.”

  Jessa took a half-step forward. “May I inquire, what is your interest in my sister?”

  She did not like the look in the man’s eyes as he watched Louisa, assessing her as though she were a horse he was considering purchasing.

  “Let’s not be hasty,” Mr. Burke said. “Sit down, so we might all become better acquainted. Sir Dabbage, you’ll find that, although a grown woman in appearance, Miss Louisa has still a very childlike mind.”

  Their guest frowned, but deigned to take a seat once Jessa and Louisa had perched again on the settee.

  An awkward silence encased them. Jessa opened her mouth, but her guardian gave her a dark look and she closed it again.

  “That’s a pretty dress, Miss Louisa,” Sir Dabbage said at last.

  “Oh, it is,” she said. “I think it’s like wearing a bit of the sky after it rains. Except it is dry.”

  “Would you like more gowns, and jewelry to wear about that soft neck of yours?”

  Louisa turned to Jessa, a question in her eyes.

  “And why would you bestow such things upon my sister, sir?” Jessa asked, though the crawling sensation in her gut told her well enough.

  “Now, now,” Mr. Burke said. “Sir Dabbage is a banker, of some note.” He laughed at his poor joke, and their guest managed a pinched smile. “Sadly, he is a widower, and is looking to remedy that situation.”

  Jessa shot her guardian an appalled look. “You can’t mean to give Louisa to him!”

  Mr. Burke stood and grasped Jessa’s arm.

  “Excuse us a moment,” he said, then towed her to the far end of the room.

  “You cannot wed her to that man. Or any man.” Jessa wrenched herself from his grip. “My sister is completely innocent of the things that pass between a husband and wife.”

  “That is her appeal,” Mr. Burke said. “Sir Dabbage has… particular tastes.”

  “I forbid it.”

  At this her guardian laughed, his stale breath washing over her. “You have no say in the matter. Unless you’d rather I gave him your sister without the benefit of matrimony?”

  Jessa curled her fingers tightly into her palms. Oh, she wished she were a man so she might punch that amused smile off his face.

  “I won’t play for you any longer,” she said. “I’ll refuse all offers to perform.”

  “Since those have been in short supply lately, you may do as you wish. But your sister will marry Sir Dabbage.”

  “Why?” Jessa shot a glance to the other end of the parlor, where their guest leaned toward Louisa as a spider leans toward an unsuspecting fly.

  “As I said, he’s a banker. One whom I, unfortunately, owe a rather large sum of money. Luckily, he wants a young wife even more than the interest on his loans. We are hoping to reach a mutual agreement.”

  It was unsupportable, but she could not hope to dissuade her guardian from this course of action. Once he made up his mind, he never veered.

  “Then I will go with her,” Jessa said. She would find some way to protect Louisa. Even if it meant taking her sister’s place in the marriage bed. She shivered at the notion.

  “Oh, you’re not to his taste,” Mr. Burke said, as if reading her thoughts. “I’m looking for a man with more seasoned appetites to take you on.”

  “What?” She swayed, and whiteness flashed through her, rendering her incapable of thought. With one hand, she reached and steadied herself against the parlor wall. The flocked wallpaper was bumpy beneath her fingers.

  “I can’t afford to keep you both on any longer,” he said. “I’ve gotten what I need from your performances, and I’m afraid your usefulness to me is nearly at an end. I’m only doing what any guardian would. It is my duty and responsibility to see you advantageously married.”

  Advantageous to himself, of course. What she and her sister thought of it mattered not.

  They must flee.

  She wanted to rage and scream. She wanted to empty the contents of her stomach over Mr. Burke’s shoes. She wanted to run Mr. Dabbage through with a dagger.

  But for now, she must appear resigned to this horrible plot. Clenching her teeth, Jessa bent her head.

&n
bsp; “I understand,” she said.

  “Good. I knew you would. You’ve a sensible streak.” Mr. Burke patted her shoulder, and she forced herself not to shudder away from his touch. “It won’t be bad, if you cooperate. We’ll find you a tall, blond fellow—you appear to be drawn to that sort.”

  He laughed, then strode over to rejoin Sir Dabbage and Louisa. Jessa hurried to follow, her stomach clenching.

  “Well,” Mr. Burke said, glancing at Louisa’s pale hand caught in their guest’s grasp. “You two seem to be getting on splendidly.”

  “Indeed. I think your niece will do quite well.” Sir Dabbage looked Louisa up and down, then smiled, an expression that made his sunken eyes glitter unappealingly.

  Louisa glanced up at Jessa. “He says I’m to come live with him and have all the lovely gowns and sweets that I desire. But you will be there, won’t you?”

  “Don’t worry.” Jessa laid her hand on her sister’s shoulder.

  “Excellent!” Mr. Burke rubbed his hands together. “Girls, you may go now. Sir Dabbage and I have a few details to finalize.”

  Their guest rose and, finally, released Louisa’s hand.

  “I look forward to our happy day,” he said.

  Louisa nodded, but Jessa was certain her sister had no notion of what the man actually meant. Head throbbing with panicked thoughts, Jessa led her sister from the room. She felt as though they were on a sinking ship, the frigid water rising about their ankles, and no land in sight.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  As the Season winds down, the Tattler eagerly awaits news of an announcement from the Earl of Silverton. Might we look forward to a late summer wedding?

  -Tilly’s Mayfair Tattler, July 10

  “Lovely weather,” Lady Anne said, peering up at Morgan from beneath the brim of her ribbon-festooned hat. “Don’t you think it’s a perfect day for an outing?”