The Beguilement of Lady Eustacia Cavanagh (The Cavanaughs 3)

Frederick snorted, rose, crossed to the bellpull, and tugged it. He’d slumped back in the armchair by the time a harassed-looking footman in the Raventhorne livery arrived.

The footman’s demeanor abruptly changed when he saw Frederick. He snapped to attention. “Yes, my lord?”

“They must be serving supper by now.”

“Indeed, my lord. About to be called any minute now.”

“In that case, please ask the cook to prepare a platter of her best selections for our three musicians here.” He waved at Brandon, Phillip, and George. “They performed superbly and should be appropriately rewarded.”

“And for you, my lord?”

“No—I’ll eat later.” Most likely after he’d returned home; unlike many other musicians, he was rarely hungry immediately after a performance.

“Yes, my lord.” The footman retreated and shut the door.

Frederick looked at his three protégés and smiled. “You did very well. And speaking of rewards…” He reached into his coat and withdrew three envelopes. He checked the names inscribed on each and handed them to the younger men. “Your fees.” He waited until they’d opened the envelopes and looked inside. “And any performance of similar duration you give for any ton hostess in the future should net you at least ten pounds more.”

He grinned at the young men’s stunned expressions. “Welcome to the world of ton events—courtesy of Lady Eustacia, you now have a position within it, and it’s one you would be wise to maintain and build upon. If, in the future, you have any questions—about the wisdom of accepting any particular offer of an engagement, or which pieces to play at an event, or regarding the sum offered, by all means, call on me, and we’ll discuss it—you know where Albury House is, and my people will recognize you.”

Brandon was the first to find his voice. “Th-thank you, my lord.”

The other two gabbled their thanks as well, then Phillip wonderingly said, “It’s a little like a dream come true—I’m half thinking I’ll wake up, and it won’t be real.”

A tap on the door heralded two maids each ferrying a platter; the cook had clearly correctly interpreted Frederick’s instruction, and the platters were piled with delicacies.

The maids set down the platters and drew plates and napkins and forks from their apron pockets. After laying everything down—all the while casting admiring glances at the three younger men, all of whom blushed, much to Frederick’s amusement—the maids bobbed and departed.

The three young musicians’ gazes had fixed on the succulent tidbits stacked on the platters, but none of them moved.

Frederick grinned and waved at the food. “Have at it.”

The trio needed no further urging.

Frederick waited, comfortable and far more relaxed than he had been, and when the platters held nothing but crumbs, he summoned another footman and sent his three protégés, now wilting but still smiling, out to his carriage with instructions to his coachman to ferry the three to their homes, then return to pick him up; his mother and Emily had traveled separately in the larger Albury carriage.

Once the door shut behind Goodes, Frederick lay back in the armchair, stretched his legs out before him, and looked up at the ceiling. Now his excuse for hiding in the parlor had departed, he should return to the reception rooms and circulate. He knew his mother and Emily would think so, and most likely, so would Stacie.

He considered the melee that would surround him if he reappeared and pulled a face. “There’s should…and then there’s will.”

He clasped his hands on his chest and remained where he was.

Stacie had lost sight of Frederick some minutes before Pemberly found her, and she gave the order for supper to be announced. Although she kept her eyes peeled, she didn’t spot Frederick’s dark head anywhere among the crowd, and then she was too busy assisting some of the older grandes dames into the supper room or ferrying other’s choices out to where they remained in the drawing room to have time to search.

Supper was in full swing when Mary popped up at her elbow and caught her hand. “Frederick—where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Stacie glanced around again. “He must be here somewhere.”

“He isn’t—Felicia, Sylvia, and I have quartered the rooms. He’s vanished.” Mary caught her eye. “Would he have left the house without telling you?”

“I doubt it. Once he agreed to perform, he’s been nothing but supportive. He might be with his three protégés.”

“Pemberly said they left.”

“Oh yes—Frederick was going to send them home in his carriage. That must be where he went…” Stacie looked at the door to the front hall. “I think I know where he must be.”

“Well”—Mary prodded her—“go and winkle him back out. While I can appreciate that a gushing crowd isn’t to his liking, to gain the most from this event with respect to ensuring the success of the next and the next, he needs to be swanning around, available for those you enticed to attend with the promise of hearing him play and, subsequently, meeting him.”

Stacie hadn’t promised anyone the latter but refrained from saying so; she understood Mary’s point well enough. The ton’s more influential ladies and the senior hostesses had come with the expectation of not only hearing the elusive marquess play but speaking with him as well. If Stacie wanted to ensure those ladies’ attendance at her next event, she had to fulfill their expectations no matter that those extended beyond what she’d offered.