Rose in Bloom (Sex and the Season 2)

“We aren’t in love with each other.”

“I see. Why do you think that would disappoint your father?”

“Because Rose is…well she’s Ashford’s daughter, for one.”

“Evan, your father wants nothing but your happiness. If you and Rose aren’t in love, don’t you think he will understand better than anyone why you choose not to marry her?”

“Rose thought he would.”

“Of course he will.” Iris smiled.

“If you’ll forgive me for being bold, my la—er, Iris, I can see now why my father adores you. I can’t promise to be completely comfortable with this situation, but I do wish happiness for both of you.”

Iris took his arm. “That is all any could ever ask of you, dear. I think I’d like a short stroll before dinner, and David should arrive any moment. Would you mind escorting your future stepmother to the front terrace to await him?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Chapter Twelve

Cameron had been working for Zach Newland for a week and had completed the music necessary for opening night. He had finished the final copy for the pianoforte, and he sat in the auditorium as the cast and crew readied for a dress rehearsal with music for the first time. Opening night was only a week away, and Cam still had his work cut out for him. After today, he would rework any parts of the score that didn’t fit well, and he still needed to do a final copy for the strings. He yawned. He had been working past midnight and rising at dawn, but he was determined to please Newland. He would not waste this opportunity, even if he had to go the entire next week without sleeping a wink.

It had all been worth it when he had moved his family to the townhome. Kat’s eyes had nearly popped out of their sockets when she beheld her own room and the bath chamber that she was to share with Tricia. Cam had gone out the next day during his lunch break and bought new bedroom suites for the three of them, furniture for the main parlor, and a new upright pianoforte to replace their old one. He also bought himself some new clothes. After all, he couldn’t be the house composer of the Regal wearing farmers’ clothes. Then, feeling guilty, he had given his mother ten more pounds to purchase new clothes for herself and the girls. He was down to one hundred pounds in savings, but rent was paid for two months, and soon he would receive his fifty pounds in commission for his two weeks’ work. Newland seemed pleased, so Cam had every reason to believe that he would stay on as composer and begin drawing regular pay.

He had left home that morning with strict orders to his mother that a maid and a governess be in place by day’s end. He had conceded and had allowed his mother to tak

e care of the cooking, but had secretly decided to hire a cook after opening night. His mother had worked hard all of her life, and he wanted her to relax and enjoy her remaining years.

Cameron watched the rehearsal with rapt attention, scribbling notes regarding minor changes in the music. All in all, he was pleased with his efforts, although his heart thumped nervously when Newland approached him at the end of the dry run.

“So, Price,” Newland said, “how do you think it went?”

“I’m pleased, although I’m going to make a few changes in the melody during the second act.”

“I think it suits well. I agree with your assessment of the changes in the second act, and I’d also like you to perk it up a bit during my final monologue. It’s supposed to be a bit more light and airy, I think.”

Cam wrote some quick notes. “I’ll get right on that. I’d like to have these changes made by the morrow, and I’m going to work late tonight to finish the final score for the strings.”

“Not tonight, Price. I’m sorry I didn’t mention this earlier, but I require your attendance at a gala at my home this evening. Several wealthy patrons will be there, and I would like for them to meet you.”

Cameron’s stomach flopped. So much work… He had no time for a party. “I would really like to complete my work. It’s only a week until opening night, and the sooner I have the score finalized, the sooner we can practice the whole production.”

“You’re nearly done now, and I congratulate you on an excellent job. Clearly I made the right decision to hire you.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you’re pleased. If I could just finish—”

“I need you tonight, Price. There are several bigwigs that I’m still courting for contributions. Having another good-looking young man there will be…helpful.”

“I thought you made it clear that I wouldn’t be expected to offer services of that nature.”

“Yes, I did. But I also made it clear that I would require your presence at my soirees.”

Cameron sighed. “Yes, I suppose you did.”

“You understand then. Go home. Bathe and change. I’ll see you at my townhome at nine sharp.”

After apologizing to his mother for skipping out for the evening, Cameron nervously walked the three blocks to Zachary Newland’s large terrace home, rehearsing in his mind what he would say when he was inevitably asked where he received his music education. Newland didn’t seem concerned about the issue. At least he hadn’t mentioned it. It unnerved Cameron, however.

He had asked his mother to trim his hair before he left. His once unfashionably long locks now fell in gleaming black layers just touching his shoulders. He dressed in formal evening attire and looked the part of accomplished theatre composer. If only he could pull it off. If he didn’t impress the theatre’s patrons, he could probably kiss his job goodbye.