A Melody for Rose (The Wednesday Club Book 2)

by Sahara Kelly

  Miles recognised it immediately. It was a harp-lute. “Good lord.” His eyes widened. “Can you play something? I would love to hear it. It’s been quite some time since I last heard it…”

  “Let me see.”

  Rose returned to the pianoforte, and dragged a chair over beside it, sitting down and cradling the harp-lute in a way that spoke volumes about her familiarity with the delightful instrument. The curved soundbox nestled into her lap, her right hand found the strings and the fingers of her left hand spread across the frets.

  At her first chord, Miles’s skin tingled and he could have sworn the hairs on his arms stood up. As she followed that with a soft trill of notes, then a simple melody beneath them, his jaw dropped.

  Rose Glynde-Beauchamp couldn’t just play. She was dazzling, a virtuoso in disguise.

  He caught the melody, a country song he knew well. So he turned back to the pianoforte and eased into the accompaniment.

  Rose glanced up and flashed him a brilliant smile as their music blended into a complete and lilting performance.

  For Miles, it was a sudden bolt of lightning, an epiphany, a revelation.

  His breath left him and returned on a rush, but behind it came a tiny shiver of fear. He wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t want this.

  He played on, listening to the music they made together, and trying to push aside a growing suspicion that the cold and clammy hand of Fate had just grabbed him by the bollocks.

  *~~*~~*

  “Where’s Rose?” Lydia grabbed Ivy’s arm. “I haven’t seen her in an age.”

  “Since you’ve danced every dance with scarcely a breath in between, I’m not surprised,” answered her friend. “She’s probably in the withdrawing room, or trying to find something to drink.”

  “I could do with that myself.” Lydia linked arms with Ivy. “Come on. Let’s go and find her before someone else asks me to dance.” Her feet were getting tired, and she hated to admit it, but her partners hadn’t been the most impressive.

  “I have concerns about our dance partners this year,” commented Ivy as they walked toward the dining room, unaware that she was echoing Lydia’s thoughts perfectly.

  “You too? I wondered if it was just me.” Lydia shook her head.

  “Well, if yours were a bit clumsy, held your hand a little too tightly and stared at your bosom, then no. It’s not just you.”

  “Now girls. They’re young men and must be given some leeway, since their brains don’t fully develop as quickly as ours.” Lady Maud drifted up behind them and managed to slide her arms through both Lydia’s and Ivy’s.

  “It wasn’t a complaint, Lady Maud,” began Lydia.

  “No, don’t apologise. It was a complaint, but it’s a universal one, my dears and quite justifiable. Sadly, the male of the species takes a long time to develop a pure and simple understanding of things like dance steps, and breasts. In the interim, they will completely forget the first while fixating on the second.”

  “Oh dear,” laughed Ivy. “We’re doomed to bruised toes and raised necklines then…”

  “I’m afraid so.” Lady Maud glanced around as she heard her husband laugh. “But eventually you’ll find one of the good ones. One who can dance and who knows exactly what to do with…” She caught herself up.

  Lydia grinned at Ivy, who grinned back.

  “Oh,” Maud rapidly changed the subject. “I have two people I’d like you to meet. And I think they’re in the dining room already. Do be nice to them, darlings. It’s their first time here.”

  She led them past the massive dining table and toward the end of the room, where a tall man and a young woman were standing, looking a bit lost.

  Lydia blinked as the man turned and watched them approach, the girl at his side shrinking back a little as the ladies neared.

  “Your Grace, I’d like to introduce two dear friends of mine.” Maud turned to the girls. “Miss Lydia Davenport, and Miss Ivy Siddington. Ladies, His Grace the Duke of Maidenbrooke, and his niece Miss Prudence Hartsmere-Drake.”

  Both Lydia and Ivy made the correct deep curtsey at the introductions.

  “Both his Grace and Miss Prudence are here for the first time, and my husband and I are thrilled they were able to attend. I’m sure you can take Miss Prudence under your wing and introduce her to some of the other young people here tonight?” Maud turned to the Duke. “Miss Davenport and her brother Matthew have been regular attendees since the beginning of our little venture. They braved our first outing and have been encouraging supporters ever since, earning our profound gratitude.”

  Ivy blushed, but Lydia—who had recognised the Duke—smiled. “Lady Maud is too kind. These evenings here at the Wednesday Club are fun and full of good company. Not to mention wonderful food.” She moved to Lady Prudence. “We were just about to find ourselves a bite to eat. Would you care to join us?” She glanced up at the Duke. “If your Grace permits?”

  He nodded, his face calm, his pure blue eyes cool. “Of course.”

  Lydia slipped her arm through Miss Prudence’s and she and Ivy led the girl away with them, hearing Maud chatting now with the Duke, and obviously trying to put him at ease as well.

  “So tell me, Miss Prudence. Are you staying here in town?”

  The girl nodded. “Yes. Yes I am. With my Uncle.”

  Her voice was soft, a bit nervous, and Lydia felt for her. “Well, now you have two friends you can count on. Being out and about in London isn’t easy at the best of times. And, forgive me for saying so, but being the niece of a Duke, you’re going to attract a lot of attention.”

  Prudence sighed and nodded, raising her eyes to Lydia. “It’s going to be all about finding a husband, isn’t it? I so dread that. I feel like I just left the schoolroom, and here I am in a fancy gown being paraded before people I don’t know.”

  Ivy couldn’t help laughing. “Dear Miss Prudence. You are not alone. Lydia and I are in the same boat, and our other friend Rose—who has apparently disappeared for the moment—we are all suffering from the same thing in varying degrees.” She leaned closer. “Mostly, it’s something I’m calling over-eager-mothering, but in your case, it’s probably over-eager-uncle-ing.”

  All three girls laughed, and more than a few pairs of eyes turned at the delightful sound and watched them as they made their way toward the food.

  Lydia kept her part of the conversation going, but with another part of her mind, she began to put her plans together, because it would seem that Fate was in attendance at this evening’s Wednesday Club.

  The Duke of Maidenbrooke was better known to them all by another name—he was none other than Fiona’s Duke.

  Chapter Six

  Two days after the initial Wednesday Club gathering, Rose met Lydia and Ivy at the dressmaker’s on Bond Street. They’d all agreed it would be followed by tea at Gunter’s, thus giving them chance to delve deeply into the events of their first ball of the Season.

  Rose sighed as her Mama directed the seamstresses, tirelessly telling them how to do their jobs. This gown, the lady declared, had to be the most stylish, the most fashionable and most stunning of all the gowns present at Almack’s.

  One young woman caught Rose’s eye and both shared a brief moment of amusement, as Rose rolled hers and the girl grinned back around a mouthful of pins.

  “Are you sure about the colour, Mama?” It was an idle question, more to distract her mother’s attention away from the workers than anything else.

  “Of course, Rose. Of course. Cerulean blue is the best shade to bring out the lights in your hair. Blue is known to be the shade most attractive to gentlemen. This gown is ideal.”

  “You make men sound like bees,” said Rose, trying not to laugh. “I suppose I’m supposed to be the flower?”

  Her mother blinked. “Oh. A jest.” She frowned. “Don’t do that too often, dear. Gentlemen are not fond of women who are over-smart.”

  “A good point,” agreed the unrepentant daughter. “I myself am not fond
of gentlemen who are under-smart.”

  “Rose.” Her mother shot her a look that clearly said lecture to follow. “I would that you guard your tongue, young lady. Besides being quite off-putting to any gentleman who might wish to converse with you about such harmless topics as the weather or the theatre, you could run the risk of upsetting other ladies. Especially the Patronesses. I understand they prefer their debutantes to be polite and ladylike. Expressions of opinions, or jests…well, it’s just not done.”

  “Sounds bloody boring if you ask me,” muttered Rose under her breath. A choked giggle sounded from somewhere around the hem of her gown.

  The bell on the door rang, and familiar voices echoed through the shop.

  “Oh, there’s Lydia and Ivy.” Rose looked at her Mama. “Do you think we’re far enough along now that I can leave these clever ladies to finish?”

  Mrs Glynde-Beauchamp sighed. “I suppose so.” She turned to the dressmaker who had returned with several lengths of ribbon. “My daughter’s friends have arrived. They will be leaving shortly—is that going to interrupt the completion of the dress?”

  The older woman surveyed Rose, then shook her head. “Non, non, not at all, Madame,” she said, in an appalling French accent that made Rose wince. “Your daughter will be ze belle of ze ball.”

  “Excellent.”

  Rose shrugged as her Mama rubbed her hands together in glee. “Well, ze belle of ze ball is about to change back into ze ordinary clothes and have tea with ze friends.” She allowed the girls to help her out of the gown, and thanked them all with smiles. “Madame,” she said, turning to the dressmaker. “You have a gift with needle and thread and an eye for design. Thank you for creating this lovely gown for me.”

  The woman smiled warmly. “Mon plaisir, dearie.”

  “Er, yes.”

  “No need to be effusive, Rose.” Her mother raised her chin. “They will be well paid, you know.”

  She looked at her Mama, wondering at her attitude. And for the first time, finding herself uncomfortable with the woman’s words and her presence. Where was the mama who had kissed her bruises, held her when she had bad dreams and cheered her on her first pony? When did that mother become the greedy and pushy woman who ignored hard work and focussed only on wealthy and eligible husbands for her daughter?

  At a loss for words, she said nothing, slipping into her warm gown, and hurrying to meet her friends. She wanted to get away from everything that seemed to be swamping her at that moment.

  “Here you are,” said Lydia, as Rose emerged from the fitting room. “We’re all right on time and I’m ready for tea. Oh, good morning, Mrs Glynde-Beauchamp. Thank you for sparing Rose. We just adore the chance to have tea together, the three of us.”

  “Hallo Lydia, Ivy.” Rose’s Mama gave them warm smiles. “I trust you have a maid with you?”

  “Of course,” answered Lydia easily. “She awaits us in the carriage. We’ll make sure Rose returns safely.”

  “So good of you,” said Mrs Glynde-Beauchamp. “Will you be at Almack’s next week? Rose’s gown is almost finished…” She preened. There was no other word to describe it.

  “Come along. Tea is waiting and I’ve worked up a thirst. Goodbye, Mama.” Rose seized her reticule, nodded at her mother, and hurried the other two out of the shop before Ivy or Lydia could do more than utter scrambled farewells.

  “Oh lord,” sighed Rose as they hopped up into the carriage. “I do apologise for Mama.”

  “She’s not that bad,” said Ivy.

  “She’s awful,” answered Rose honestly. “I think her brains have gone wandering since she discovered I’m unwed. She’s pushing me into Almack’s in a gown that doesn’t suit me, lecturing me on my behaviour and trying my patience beyond belief.” She turned to Lydia. “And I’m really sorry about that comment she made to you. Ever since the Almack’s voucher arrived, you’d think I’d become something extraordinary, and above the rest of the world.”

  Lydia waved it away. “Think nothing of it, Rose dear. Of course vouchers to Almack’s are special. But they don’t change who you are. Neither does a husband, I hope. So we ladies need not worry about that sort of thing. Life is to be lived, no matter whether it’s with a husband or not. We are young, intelligent and I assume we can hold our own in the attractive side of the ledger. All of which is rather good, when you think about it.”

  “And your mama wants the best for you, I’m sure,” added Ivy soothingly.

  “Besides.” Lydia’s grin was wicked. “We haven’t had chance to talk since Wednesday night. And I want to hear all about where you disappeared to for at least an hour. And with whom…”

  Rose, for some unfathomable reason, found herself blushing.

  Her cheeks had cooled by the time they were seated at a corner table, and tea—along with some tasty looking delicacies—had been placed before them.

  But Lydia was nothing if not resolute. “So.” She stirred her tea. “Tell us everything. Rose.”

  Ivy grinned. “We’re waiting.”

  Rose sniffed. “You two. Really. There’s very little to tell. I was stretching my legs and getting away from people for a short while and I found the music room.”

  “Ahh,” Lydia nodded wisely. “That explains it. Go on.”

  “Well,” she cleared her throat. “Miles was in there. Lord Linfield.”

  “Yes, darling. We know who Miles is.” Ivy’s lips curled into a wide smile. “The rather tasty gentleman with the nice eyes.”

  “Tasty?” Rose blinked. “Um…”

  “So did you play with him?” Lydia managed to suppress a giggle.

  “Well I…”

  “I knew it. You’re blushing.” Ivy pointed her teaspoon at her friend.

  “Oh stop, both of you.” Rose grabbed a teacake. “We played music.”

  “Mmm hmm.” Lydia devoured a lemon biscuit, nodding sagely.

  Rose dropped her head and sighed. “Miles plays the pianoforte, and the Sydenhams have a harp-lute. So I played a tune I’m familiar with, and he picked it up, accompanying me.” She shrugged. “That’s all it was. A very brief interval of peace and quiet where we could simply take pleasure in the music we created together.”

  There was a moment’s respectful silence, as both Lydia and Ivy digested Rose’s straightforward declaration.

  Then Lydia sighed. “And that’s how it all begins. Lord knows what you’ll be creating together next.”

  Rose, in the middle of finishing her teacake, took a breath and a crumb went down the wrong way. Fortunately, after much coughing and back-slapping, she got her breath back.

  And noticed another young lady standing hesitantly by their table.

  “Hallo. Are you quite alright, Miss Rose?”

  It was Prudence Hartsmere-Drake.

  “I am,” wheezed Rose. “Thank you. It’s lovely to see you…won’t you join us?”

  “I…”

  “Oh please do,” urged Lydia. “Four is just the perfect number to share tea, don’t you agree?”

  “Well…”

  “Excellent.” Ivy beckoned to a waiter and Prudence was seated, with teacup and saucer, before she had chance to say another word.

  “Did you enjoy the Wednesday Club, Miss Prudence?” Lydia poured tea. “It’s always lovely to welcome a new member.” She grinned. “Even a Duke’s niece.”

  Prudence smiled back, responding to the warmth and friendliness in Lydia’s voice. Rose wasn’t surprised, since she’d seen Lydia in action. Genuine in her delight, Lydia always garnered a similar response or coaxed a smile from the shyest of creatures.

  “It was lovely. Everyone was so friendly.” Prudence’s cheeks warmed a little. “I didn’t know anyone, and yet you were all so kind to me. Thank you.”

  “Everybody at the Wednesday Club is your friend, dear,” said Ivy gently. “We enjoy each other’s company. And it is a little less formal than one might expect.”

  “I think that’s why I enjoyed it so much.” Prudence sip
ped her tea and sighed with pleasure. “I was expecting something more…stiff?

  Rose agreed. “Is this your first time in London, Miss Prudence?”

  “Oh please, call me Prudence?” she begged. “I hope we can all be friends, and it’s so much easier. Yes, this is my first time in London as…well, as a grown-up, I suppose. My parents brought me when I was little but I don’t remember much.”

  “So now you’re here with your uncle, the Duke…?”

  Prudence nodded. “Yes, I’m his ward. My parents were lost at sea when I was twelve.”

  “Oh I’m so sorry.” Rose reached out and laid a hand on the other girl’s, as they all made sympathetic sounds.

  “I fully understand,” said Ivy quietly. “I lost my parents as well when I was a little younger than you.” She sighed. “My grandmother raised me. And we’re both lucky to have family come to our rescue.”

  Prudence turned her face to Ivy and nodded. “We are indeed. Although I hope your grandmother was a little less strict than Uncle Colborne.”

  Lydia grinned. “He does look quite…unapproachable.”

  “Oh he isn’t,” said Prudence quickly. “He’s really so kind. It’s just his manner, you know?” She leaned forward. “I don’t believe he even knows he’s being a bit forbidding in his demeanour, because his parents raised him with an elevated awareness of his heritage.” She paused. “Does that make any sense?”

  “It does,” said Ivy. “It does indeed. I mean just think about what being a Duke entails…”

  There was silence for a moment or two as four young ladies tried to wrap their minds around what it would be like to be a Duke.

  Lydia gave up first. “You know, I have absolutely no idea. Other than drive in very nice carriages and have plenty of disposable funds for clothes and horses…”

  “That is all true,” agreed Prudence. “But then there’s the matter of the estate business. Maidenbrooke Castle houses just over a hundred servants. Then there are the tenants, farms, investments and all the other stuff. Uncle Colborne works very hard. And I know because I’ve seen him do it. He has a meeting with his banker, his estate manager, and his housekeeper. That’s one morning, and then after that it’s out onto the land to talk about herds, crops and all sorts of other things. And that’s just the ordinary day-to-day business in one place. He has three other homes, and more properties he oversees.”