Reid

by Sasha Cottman

  As Reid’s wife, she felt a particular responsibility to all of his friends, the Noble Lords most of all. With his parents already having chosen a wife for the young earl, Lavinia saw it as part of her duty to help Owen make the transition from society lothario to husband. It was not going to be an easy task, but she was quietly determined to see him settled happily into marriage.

  Finally came Callum. The stench of alcohol on his breath nearly knocked her over as he leaned in to give her a congratulatory kiss. She sensed from the overwhelming smell that he wasn’t hungover from last night; rather he had been slyly drinking before the wedding.

  Lavinia was relieved when Reid finally made his way back and pulled her into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around him and held tight. He looked down and met her gaze, a quizzical look on his brow. “What is wrong?”

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I am just grateful that you and I have found one another, and that Jonathan has a father. He thinks the world of you.”

  Reid brushed a kiss on her cheek—it was a hint of things for later when they were alone. His gaze settled on his fellow Noble Lords, all milling around, talking, and making plans for the day.

  “They are not bad chaps, but they could all do with a woman like you in their lives. We can only hope that when they see how happy you and I are, they will start to think more seriously about the business of finding themselves wives,” he said.

  “And in Owen’s case, dealing with the one which has already been chosen for him,” she replied.

  “Yes, that is going to be difficult. Owen is dead-set against liking the chit and he hasn’t even met her.”

  In the corner of the room, Kendal had Jonathan seated at the piano, lifted up to reach the keys with the aid of a plump cushion. The little boy’s eyes were wide as Kendal showed him how to hold his fingers to play. When the first strains of music filled the room, Jonathan looked at Kendal and smiled. Reid chuckled at the sight.

  Kendal had found himself a new devoted fan.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Viscount Follett’s dressing room.

  Sans Pareil Theater

  * * *

  Reid downed another cup of ginger tea, casting a sideways glance at Lavinia who was watching. The tea was terrible, and he really didn’t want to drink it, but his wife was adamant.

  His wife. He had thought of that more times a day than he would dare admit to anyone but her. Life with Lavinia was a constant delight of stolen kisses and secret shared looks.

  But the afternoon was the best time of the day, when she had finished the last of her singing lessons and returned to their bedroom to change. The first time he had hidden in her wardrobe, she had squealed. Thank God she hadn’t screamed and brought the servants running. Granted, it wasn’t every day that a lady of refined birth found a naked man hiding amongst her gowns. But Lavinia decided she was a very lucky lady in that the experience was a daily one for her.

  He, in turn, could count himself a man truly blessed. To his delight, his surprised wife would regularly sink to her knees and take his cock in her mouth, leaving him to seek purchase amongst the fabric of her gowns. He would never tire of her soft, heated lips on his body.

  “Reid?”

  “Sorry. I was woolgathering,” he replied.

  She brushed a hand on his cheek. “I know what you were thinking, but you had better put those lascivious thoughts to one side for a few hours. You have an audience awaiting, and then a celebratory dinner. It wouldn’t do for you to walk onstage in an aroused state.”

  Damn it. The woman could read his mind.

  She took the cup of ginger tea from his hands. “Let us talk about another part of your anatomy. How is the stomach?”

  Surprisingly he wasn’t feeling nauseous, and he hadn’t cast up his accounts. Nerves, which usually had him at their mercy, were no longer a problem. “Well, thank you. Are the others here yet?” he asked.

  “Yes. Kendal and Callum arrived a short while ago. Owen has been here for over an hour keeping Jonathan amused,” she replied.

  Owen was not known to be partial to children, but Jonathan seemed to be softening the hearts of all the Noble Lords. Considering that Owen was slated to be next in line for a wedding, it was a good thing that he was spending time with their son.

  He wasn’t going to make mention of the fact that Owen had received word of his father’s pending arrival back in London, and that he would be doing his utmost to avoid having to see the Marquess of Lowe. The inevitable showdown could only be staved off for so long.

  “Eliza has gone to check on the final ticket sales, but I think we may have nearly a full house,” said Lavinia.

  On cue, Eliza appeared in the doorway of the cramped dressing room. Sans Pareil wasn’t the biggest theater in London, nor the best furnished. The dressing room was so tiny that it could only hold a small dressing table and chair, leaving just enough room for Reid, Lavinia, and now Eliza to huddle inside. “The crowd is beginning to file in from outside. Numbers are looking good, as is the caliber of our audience. I have seen quite a few well-known faces, as well as a solid representation from the ton,” said Eliza.

  “Are they here?”

  Lavinia frowned at the obvious question, but Reid shrugged. He felt confident about singing in front of a crowded theatre, but he still wanted to know if Marco and the rest of the Italian contingent were present.

  Eliza met Reid’s gaze. “I haven’t seen Marco or any of the others as yet, but no doubt they will be here somewhere tonight. It is the hottest ticket in town.”

  She left Reid and Lavinia alone in the dressing room. Lavinia stood a short distance away, holding the teacup. Reid was grateful that she knew to keep her distance. His nerves were under control, but still the memory of Marco mentally tearing him down was not one he could easily shift from his mind.

  “Is there anything else you need from me?” she asked.

  “Just your smile,” he replied.

  “You will always have that.”

  He held his hand out to her; it was time to leave the dressing room and seek light and air. “Come, let’s go and watch from the stage. I want to enjoy being with you as the seats fill up.”

  He also wanted to see exactly where Marco was sitting for the performance. He had a little something planned for his singing rival.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Lavinia pulled back from peeking out through the closed stage curtains. “They are carrying a full house sign out into the foyer.”

  Reid nodded in the direction of the other Noble Lords who were gathered with him and his family on the stage. “That is wonderful news. Just think of the money we have raised for the war orphans and widows.”

  Kendal shook his head. “I cannot believe you have done it. You got people to part with their hard-earned coin just to come and hear you sing.”

  “Yes, and as far as they know, I am still only a passable baritone. Imagine the size of the theatre I could have sold out if they knew what I could do,” he replied with a smile. Kendal chuckled.

  Lavinia turned to him. The determined look on her face was exactly what Reid needed at that moment. His wife knew him well. No tears, no gushing emotion—just a tender kiss on the lips and a whispered, “Good luck.”

  She waved to the others and walked off the stage, ready to take her place alongside Eliza and Jonathan in the wings.

  Tall burgundy curtains were all that stood between the Noble Lords and several hundred people. The hum of voices in the theatre was electric. For the first time, Reid sensed a touch of nerves gathering in him. He knew what to do.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His mind drifted back to the apartment in Craven Street, to the first time he had managed to stumble through Alma del Core, and the look on Lavinia’s face. The look which had told him she believed he could become a great singer. She had never promised that he would be anything more than a good singer, but the light which had shone in her eyes that day had said more than words.
r />   All he had to do was to trust her.

  And now, standing on the stage, ready to face all of London’s elite, he knew one other simple truth: the music was in his heart. He turned to his friends who were all seated and ready to play.

  “Friends, Noble Lords . . . it is time.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The curtains opened slowly. Reid glanced toward the wings. Lavinia remained watching, Jonathan beside her. He winked at his son.

  He strode to center stage and bowed low.

  To his surprise, instead of the usual polite applause, a loud roar rose up from the theatre. He raised his gaze to the upper levels and the boxes. A sea of smiling faces looked back at him.

  The noise of the audience was deafening. He turned to the rest of the Noble Lords. All three were taking in the same breathtaking view. Owen was smiling. Callum was too.

  Kendal looked for all the world like a stunned mullet. The naysayer had been proven wrong. The Noble Lords could pack in a crowd.

  Reid turned back to the enthusiastic audience and held up a hand, signaling for silence. The noise level slowly dimmed and those people who had got to their feet now retook their seats.

  “My lords, ladies, and gentlemen. Thank you for attending tonight. Your support of not only ourselves but of the families of our fallen soldiers is greatly appreciated.”

  Another roar rose from the crowd.

  Reid had half lifted his hand to quieten them again when he saw why the audience had begun to cheer. His Royal Highness the Prince Regent appeared at the front of the box closest to the stage. The prince nodded to the crowd.

  As one, Reid and the Noble Lords all turned and bowed low. At the edge of the stage, Lavinia, Eliza, and Jonathan joined them in acknowledging the unexpected but welcome guest.

  How the Prince Regent had heard about a minor musical performance at an equally minor theatre in the not-so-fashionable part of London was anyone’s guess. Though the fact that it was for a charitable cause close to the future king’s heart likely had a major bearing on his attendance.

  Reid caught Eliza’s gaze and when she gave him a small shrug, he understood who they had to thank for the prince’s appearance. Reid was both humbled and grateful for his sister’s efforts.

  Lavinia and the rest of his family moved offstage and into the wings. The crowd finally quietened down again.

  “Your Royal Highness. My lords, ladies, and gentlemen. We are the Noble Lords.”

  He stepped away from the center of the stage as Kendal began to play the opening strains of Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro. The crowd immediately cheered as they heard the popular tune. Kendal, to his credit, had put his pride aside for the second time in a week and played the dreaded piece. He might be the least of Mozart’s fans, but he knew what the crowd wanted to hear.

  Reid’s gaze now moved from the stage, out into the crowd—searching. Somewhere beyond the candle lights which lit the edge of the stage was Marco Calvino. He felt it in his bones. Slowly, with a measured pace, his gaze ran up and down the rows of seated patrons.

  Ah. There you are.

  He would have missed Marco had the lady wearing a gaudy feathered hat who was seated next to him not turned at that moment to speak to the person seated on the other side of her. As she moved, Reid caught sight of his Italian nemesis. Was that a wave Marco had sent in his direction?

  He smiled back. Do your best. The only person who could make him fail tonight was himself.

  When the feathered hat hid Marco’s face once more, Marco tapped the lady on the arm. There was a brief exchange of words and the hat was swiftly removed. The patrons seated either side of Marco were strangers to Reid; the Italian appeared to have come to the concert on his own. There was no sign of his musical companions. Odd. It was customary for them to go everywhere as a group.

  His thoughts came back to the music, and he settled to listen and enjoy the skills of his fellow Noble Lords. Kendal, as usual, was masterful on the piano. While Owen played his beloved violin to perfection, Callum, who had held back on the gin this evening, was playing with particular enthusiasm.

  Now it was up to him to display the work he had put into his voice and show the world the true depth of talent in the Noble Lords. He was no longer the weak fourth member of the group.

  At the end of the second piece of music, Reid stepped back to center stage. The fading applause was replaced with a hum of expectation. The time had come. He heard the whispers. All eyes were focused on him. With a nod in Kendal’s direction, he turned and took a deep, calm breath. The opening strains of Haydn’s The Creation filled the theatre, and it was immediately greeted with rapturous applause.

  “And God said: Let there be light.”

  Reid delivered the first line of the song with confidence and his nerves disappeared. It had been a hugely popular piece of opera on its debut in England, largely due to Haydn having had the good sense and marketing nous to translate his work into English.

  Lavinia and Kendal had chosen the piece after much careful consideration. While Lavinia worked to complete Reid’s transformation to a tenor, Kendal had made certain the Noble Lords were note perfect to back up their singer. An English language aria sung by an English lord was the perfect song to win over the London crowd. Reid sang for the people in the front row, then lifted his head and sang for those in the stalls and the boxes.

  “And let there be for signs and for seasons and for days and for years. He made the stars also.”

  Reid heard the applause as Kendal led the others into the instrumental break in the song, but he was lost in the rapture of the music and simply let it wash over him. It was incredible how things had changed. The Reid of old would have hungered for the acclaim, his nerves feeding on the attention. But failure would also have been lurking in the background, waiting until he sang a false note or a heckler from the audience tripped him up. Then as had happened before, he would fall. His self-confidence would have shattered all around him.

  But Reid Follett was now a different man. Calm contentment was his welcome companion on the stage. His love for Lavinia was the strong support on which his whole world was grounded.

  As the music continued, Reid took the opportunity to look out over the audience once more. He felt brave enough to glance in the direction of Marco. The Italian sat with his eyes closed, hands held together. A soft smile was on his lips.

  Reid took a deep breath and stepped back into the song.

  “With softer beams and milder light steps on the silver moon.”

  When the song finally ended, the crowd rose as one. Thunderous applause echoed throughout the theatre.

  Reid closed his eyes for a moment and prayed that this was not a dream. When he opened them, he saw Owen, Kendal, and Callum standing alongside him.

  “You did it,” said Kendal.

  He shook his head. “We did it.”

  The Noble Lords gathered at the front of the stage and bowed as one.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Lavinia watched with a mix of pride and relief as Reid took the final bow. His performance had been faultless. It was so like him to have saved his very best for when it truly mattered.

  Tonight’s performance meant more to him than she knew he dared to admit. She had woken each night over the past four days to find Reid sitting on the end of their bed, practicing his breathing exercises. She could only hope that tonight would see him sleep through to the morning.

  A tap on the shoulder had her turning away from the stage. Before her stood a well-dressed gentleman whom she immediately recognized as Sir John McMahon, the private secretary for the Prince of Wales.

  “Lady Follett, His Royal Highness requests the presence of Lord Follett, Lord Kendal Grant, Lord Morrison, and Sir Callum Sharp,” he announced.

  Lavinia nodded. “Of course. They shall attend as soon as they come offstage,” she replied. Sir John bowed to both Lavinia and Eliza before taking his leave.

  “The Prince Regent? How exciting,” said Lavin
ia.

  “I am pleased that he agreed to come,” replied Eliza.

  “You invited him?”

  “I told Sir John that tonight was exactly the sort of occasion that would suit his highness. The prince is looking to try and establish his popularity with the masses before he becomes king. With the war against Napoleon now over, he no longer has the pull of war patriotism to get people to like him. And he does like to be liked. So, it means he actually has to leave Carlton House and meet with his future subjects.”

  It had never occurred to Lavinia that Eliza had that sort of influence when it came to the Prince Regent. Reid, as a peer and a war hero, she could understand. Eliza was not only a quiet power broker within London society; she was a wonderful young woman.

  “Will you come and meet the prince?”

  Eliza waved her away. “No, I can see Prinny any day of the week. I shall take Jonathan home and make sure all is in readiness for the post-concert dinner.”

  The transition between Lavinia and Eliza for lady of the house was progressing at a leisurely pace, with neither in any particular hurry. Eliza seemed to enjoy running the household, so Lavinia was content to let things ride. She had plenty of other changes happening in her own life to worry about pushing Eliza to hand everything over.

  Eliza and Jonathan followed the rest of the concert patrons as they made their way out into the street. As the crowd inside the theatre thinned, Lavinia headed back to the dressing room and collected hers and Reid’s things.

  She had just arrived in the foyer when from behind her, came a voice she had not heard in more than seven years.

  “Lavinia.”

  She turned. Dressed in a long black woolen coat, holding a walking stick in his hand, stood her brother, Frederick.

  When she had passed him in the street weeks earlier, she had been in too much of a hurry to avoid him to be able to get more than the briefest of looks. She had most certainly not noted a walking stick at the time. Now, she could see him up close. His hair was greyer than her memories recalled it having been. Lines around his eyes showed the trace of those missing years.