The Beguilement of Lady Eustacia Cavanagh (The Cavanaughs 3)

Protheroe smiled reassuringly at his erstwhile students, introduced Stacie and Frederick—this time as the Marquess of Albury—and outlined the reason for which they’d been summoned.

The three men exchanged glances that plainly said they could barely believe their luck.

“So”—Protheroe clasped his hands together and turned to Frederick and Stacie—“how would you like to proceed?”

Frederick touched a hand to the back of Stacie’s waist. “The string duo first, I think.” The young men had brought their instruments, which lay in cases at their feet.

She nodded and smiled at Carpenter and Goodes. “If you could play for us, gentlemen? Ultimately, we’ll be looking for a piece or pieces that will run for ten or so minutes.”

“I would suggest,” Frederick said, “that for this exercise, you choose a piece you personally like and are confident of playing perfectly.”

While Carpenter and Goodes unpacked their instruments and, in hushed whispers, debated which piece to play, with Miller adding his opinion when appealed to, Frederick and Protheroe fetched straight-backed chairs from one end of the room and set them in a short row at a spot Frederick indicated, several yards from where Carpenter and Goodes were setting themselves up, Goodes seated on a chair with his lovingly polished cello between his knees and Carpenter standing, thin and tall, by his side.

Frederick sat beside Stacie, and Protheroe sat on her other side.

Frederick noted with approval that neither Carpenter nor Goodes rushed their tuning or preparation. Finally, when they were ready, Carpenter straightened and said, “We’ve elected to perform J. S. Bach’s ‘Duet in A Minor.’”

Frederick nodded approvingly. “An excellent choice.” He glanced at Stacie and Protheroe, then looked back at Carpenter and Goodes. “When you’re ready, gentlemen.”

The young men exchanged a wordless look, then Goodes drew in a breath, set bow to string, and commenced.

The sound was pure and mellow, then the violin came in, and Bach’s melody unfurled, eventually skipping into counterpoint that was expertly and crisply executed.

Frederick sat back, folded his arms across his chest, and listened.

When it came to musical performances, he was far more critical than the average listener, yet there was little fault to find in Carpenter’s and Goodes’s efforts. Protheroe hadn’t exaggerated their abilities; by

the time the pair lifted their bows from their strings and Frederick, along with Stacie, burst into spontaneous applause, Frederick was convinced Carpenter and Goodes, along with Miller, were more than worthy of his and Stacie’s support. Once properly introduced to the ton, with him and Stacie as patrons and mentors, the three would do well.

Both Goodes and Carpenter flushed with pleasure.

Frederick gave them a moment, then asked, “What other duets do you know?”

An animated exchange followed, to which everyone, including Stacie and Miller—who plainly knew the other two well—contributed.

Eventually, Frederick was satisfied that Carpenter and Goodes had revealed the full extent of their repertoire. When Stacie, understanding why he’d asked the original question, shot him an inquiring glance, he said, “I think the Beethoven in C Major will work best for our purposes. It has the right ambiance and duration.”

Stacie nodded and turned to the young men, who had pricked up their ears at the mention of a purpose and looked hopefully intrigued.

Frederick hid a smile as she explained their notion of introducing local musicians, hailing from music schools other than the Royal Academy, to the notice of the haut ton via musical evenings.

Observing the uncertain expressions on the young men’s faces and guessing something of the questions crowding their minds, Frederick added, “Lady Eustacia is extremely well-connected within the ton—her guests will be a select group and will include all the major hostesses and those who might be encouraged to become patronesses of talented musicians of the sort who could play at their events.”

Brandon Miller exchanged a faintly troubled glance with Carpenter and Goodes, then, transparently steeling himself, looked at Stacie and Frederick and said, “A chance such as that—to play before the hostesses, lords, and ladies—is…well, a dream to us. But others have tried something similar and got nowhere. If it’s just us playing, why would the top-of-the-trees come to listen?”

Frederick caught the look Stacie sent his way and elected to reply himself. “Firstly, because those others weren’t Lady Eustacia Cavanaugh, daughter of a marquess and sister of another and connected to many of the haut ton’s most influential families, and secondly, because it won’t be just you three playing.”

He paused, then decided it would be easier to allay their fears using the medium they understood best. He rose and walked to the piano; guessing his intention, Brandon raised the lid and whipped the felt away.

Frederick sat, set his fingers to the keys, and launched into his current favorite exercise—the third part from Mendelssohn’s fourth book of “Songs Without Words.” As always, he let the music consume him; he opened himself to it, and it flowed like a river through him.

When he played the last chord and lifted his hands, silence reigned. He raised his head and looked at the three young musicians and beheld them struck speechless, their expressions ones of utter awe. He suppressed a cynical smile. “I haven’t played before the ton, not at any event, however small, for over ten years. I’ll be appearing as the last act of the evening. With my name on the program, I believe we can be certain that not one of those invited will stay away.”

Hope washed across the young men’s faces as belief in their good fortune—that this opportunity might be real—sank in.

Miller shifted. “Do you want me to play for you as well?”

Frederick nodded, rose from the piano stool, and with a wave, indicated that Miller should take his place. “The Beethoven sonata again, just the first movement, if you please.”