Glancing at Frederick, Stacie glimpsed a hint of resistance, but after a second, he nodded. “Quite.” He met Stacie’s eyes. “So from beginning to end, your program will last just over an hour, which should be ideal.”
She looked down at her notes. “So if we invite people to arrive at eight, start our program at nine-thirty, then at the conclusion, just after ten-thirty, pause for, say, ten minutes before serving supper, we’ll have a nicely rounded evening, with all our guests away by sometime shortly after midnight.”
“That sounds perfect, dear,” Ernestine said. “Now”—she set her embroidery in her lap—“do you want help with those invitations?”
In the end, even Frederick helped, penning the invitations to his peers and colleagues in the music world. As many of the invitations were for couples, if not families, there were sixty-seven actual invitations to scribe, then blot, fold into envelopes, and address.
When the last invitation was done, it was nearly time to dress for dinner. Frederick had divided the stack of envelopes into two roughly equal piles, one to be dispatched from Mount Street, carried to the various residences by Raventhorne footmen, and the other to be delivered by the Albury House staff. The latter pile included not just the invitations for Frederick’s scholarly peers but also those for his mother, his sisters, and several acquaintances, as well as a large group of the more general invitations to ton families. As he tied the stack of envelopes with a ribbon Ernestine had found, he observed, “It won’t hurt for some invitations to be delivered by a footman in the Albury livery.”
Stacie agreed; despite the short notice, the news of Frederick’s involvement would definitely get around town and feed expectations.
Finally, Frederick rose and picked up his stack of invitations. After taking his leave of Ernestine, he turned to Stacie, and she waved him to the door.
In the front hall, she gave him her hand. “Thank you. Between us, I believe we’ve organized a musical evening the ton will remember.” Her lips curving, she couldn’t resist adding, “And with your name on the program, I predict our first event is destined to be an outright crush.”
The expression in his eyes as he held her hand was one of resigned cynicism, but all he said as he released her was, “I suspect you’ll be proved correct.”
With an arrogant lift to one eyebrow, he turned and went out of the door Hettie was holding open.
Stacie watched him descend, all languid grace, to the pavement, then turn for Park Street. He might not appreciate the ton’s adoration, but in reality, she doubted he had a humble bone to his name.
Frederick reached Albury House with just enough time to hand over the stack of invitations to Fortingale, then hurry upstairs and change before joining his mother and Emily in the drawing room.
“Well!” his mother exclaimed as he walked into the room. “I’d almost given up hope.” She waved her invitation—already opened—at him. “I take my hat off to Stacie—she is clearly a miracle worker.”
“Don’t overdo it, Mama.” Frederick bent and kissed her check, then nodded a greeting to Emily, who grinned, understanding his mood and not the least bit inclined to pander to it.
“So tell me,” the marchioness commanded, “how on earth did Stacie manage it?” Immediately she held up a hand. “No—wait. Perhaps you’d better leave the mystery intact.”
Frederick lounged in one of the armchairs. “If you must know, she shamelessly appealed to my sense of
noblesse oblige.”
“Oh?” Emily looked fascinated; she’d known him since birth. “How on earth did she manage that?”
He sighed and gave them a condensed description of the music school and the difficulties faced by its English graduates. “They’re merchants’ sons and can’t afford to attend the Royal Academy, yet from all I’ve seen, their artistry would compare favorably with that of the best of the Academy’s alumni. The three Stacie and I have chosen to introduce at this event are well and truly worthy of the ton’s attention—as you’ll see next Wednesday.”
“I have to say that choosing the last free Wednesday is a stroke of genius,” Emily stated.
“And giving such short notice,” his mother added. “Nothing like a subliminal suggestion that something’s afoot to bring the ton flocking.” She arched her brows at him. “So who has been invited?”
He rattled off all the names he could remember. Fortingale interrupted him, and they adjourned to the dining room, yet even once they’d settled at the table, his mother continued her inquisition. He bore with her questions with what grace he could muster, knowing he could rely on her support, and that said support would be instrumental in ensuring the evening was a social success.
Sure enough, before she and Emily left him to enjoy a quiet brandy, his mother declared, “You and Stacie can rest assured that Emily and I, and your sisters, too, will all do our part in planting the right seeds in the right minds to escalate interest in your joint enterprise.”
“And with such an exclusive guest list,” Emily said, “you can be assured there will be plenty of interest in what transpires on Wednesday night.”
They left him debating whether that last prediction would be a good thing or not.
The marchioness led Emily into the drawing room, and the pair settled comfortably to one side of the fireplace.
“You know, my dear Emily, I cannot help but note that Frederick’s association with Stacie has brought about a change in him. Never have I known him to be so patient and accommodating in answering my questions.”
Emily nodded. “Indeed. And I know you won’t take this observation wrongly, dear Philippa, but it did strike me that while Frederick has always done his duty regarding all those dependent on the estate, I cannot recall him being moved—by noblesse oblige or, indeed, anything else—to bestir himself on behalf of someone entirely unknown to him.”
The marchioness was nodding. “Exactly so. And in this case, he’s not just bestirring himself but has agreed to do something he’s trenchantly avoided for well-nigh the past decade.” The marchioness arched her brows consideringly. After several moments, she glanced at the door and lowered her voice to say, “I have to admit, Emily dear, that regarding Frederick’s interaction with Stacie, I feel more hopeful of an interesting outcome than I have in years.”
Chapter 5