The Musician (Emerson Pass Historicals 5)

A drink? It wasn’t yet noon. Did I have anything to offer him? Was it wine he wanted or something stronger? “What do you prefer?”

“Do you have a brandy?” He stretched his legs out long on the chaise. Was it my imagination or did it seem like he’d positioned himself to display the front of his hips? I flushed at the very thought of what lay beneath the fabric of his trousers.

“Yes, I believe my father left brandy. Let me look.” I hurried over to the liquor cabinet and opened the double doors to peer at my supplies. Fortunately, Papa had known to order it for me. Was it common for people like Mr. Basset to drink brandy in the middle of the day? Papa had only ever had a small glass of whiskey in the evenings.

I’m such a lost girl here, I thought as I poured him a glass of what I thought was the brandy. There were four liquors in glass decanters.

“Is this what you want?” I asked, setting it on the table nearest the chaise.

He picked it up and gave it a good whiff. “Yes, brilliant. Thank you.” He tipped the glass back and the amber liquid disappeared.

Gabriella appeared with two long candles inserted into silver holders. “Sorry for the delay, mademoiselle. I had to search for them in the pantry.”

“Put them here.” Mr. Basset pointed to the table that now held his empty glass. “And can you get another brandy, please?”

Gabriella froze, clearly unsure if he’d asked her or me. I gave her a faint nod to let her know she should do it before returning my gaze to Mr. Basset.

He swung his legs from the chaise and set them firmly on the rug before turning to light the candles from the flame of a silver lighter.

Gabriella delivered his drink, setting it near the candles. “Will there be anything else, miss?” Miss instead of mademoiselle? Was it a code for something? As in, let me know if you want to run and I’m right behind you.

“No, thank you, Gabriella. We’re almost through here.”

She darted away. I wish I could as well.

“All right, now, what we’re going to do is teach you a little more about breath control.” Basset patted the spot beside him. “You’ll need to get closer, though. Even I don’t expect my pupils to blow out a candle from that far away.”

Sit next to him? No, I wouldn’t. I marched over to the piano bench and brought it over to the spot next to the table. “I’ll do it from here.”

He watched me with eyes the color of a muddy field, brown mixed with trampled green grass. “I don’t bite, Miss Barnes.” His voice had lowered in volume and tone. Was that supposed to seduce me?

“Don’t you though?” I’d not meant to fight back, but it was as if Cym and Jo were with me, whispering in my ear what to do, what to say. “Bite, that is?”

His dark eyebrows rose and remained there for a moment. “Do you like biting, Miss Barnes?”

My stomach turned with repulsion. Did young women fall for this, or was it simply that they were desperate for his introduction into the art world? I didn’t need him. I was fine with or without his offerings. I was Fiona Barnes, daughter of Colorado and Alexander and Quinn Barnes. His carrot had no appeal to me. I was not a hungry bunny.

“Mr. Basset, perhaps we should get something straight. I’m not charmed by you. I’m not taken in by your lewd comments. If they’re meant to be a threat or an invitation matters not to me. My father hired you at great expense. I’m halfway around the world, away from my family, and perhaps seem vulnerable to you. However, I can assure you I am not. You have no power over me because I don’t want anything from you. Those other girls, the ones you make mistresses in exchange for jobs, are not like me. They don’t have the backing of parents or even homes. I’m assuming so, anyway. You take advantage of them. You should be deeply ashamed. God watches, no matter where you are.”

He chuckled, clearly amused by my little speech. “You have fire in you. I’m surprised.”

“Why should that surprise you?”

“An American heiress, spoiled and soft,” he said. “These are the qualities I expected.”

“You know nothing about me or my family,” I said. “We’re proud and ethical and not swayed by treachery, threats, or promises.”

“This only makes me want you more,” he said. “But I shall refrain.” His smile broke over his face. To others, he might seem attractive, but to me, he looked like a fox. “Do you have any idea of the doors I could open for you?” He asked this casually and in that same low tone that was supposed to be seductive but instead made me nauseous.

“Do you have any idea how little I care?”

“Then what are you doing here? What’s a little mouse doing in the cat’s city, hmm? A tiny girl such as yourself in mean old Paris? What else would bring you here, other than ambition?”

“A man like you wouldn’t understand my motivations. But I can assure you I have no need for your introductions.”

“Try me.”

“Pardon?”

“Tell me what brought you here,” he said.

“The chance to learn from a man reputed to be one of the best teachers in Europe. An opportunity to see a little more of the world. But both of those are really of no consequence to me. Unlike your other pupils, Mr. Basset, I’m fine with or without you. As much as I’d like to improve my craft, it’s not worth compromising my principles.”

“What a lovely orator you are, Miss Barnes. Such a lot of American pluck. Isn’t that what makes you Americans drool?”

“Drooling is what dogs do,” I said, as haughtily as I could.

“Keep in mind I can make you into the singer you’d like to be. You have a lot of work to do, but there’s potential. A lot of potential. I shall behave myself, act like a priest around you.” He laughed as he raised his hands in the air. “Don’t look so suspicious. I’ll be the model teacher. You can’t judge a man for trying.”

“You’re the age of my father.”

“You wound me, Miss Barnes.” He tapped one finger on the top button of his shirt.

I glared at him, pretending I was Cymbeline. “I doubt that, but I’d like to.”

“I surrender. I’ll be good.” He didn’t smile this time but instead looked almost sincere. “I’d like to teach you, if you’re still interested.”

“I’ll not allow you to touch me. Not anywhere, no matter what. Do you understand?”

“Your wish is my command.”

“And now I should like you to go,” I said.

He got up from the chaise slowly, as if his knees ached. I hoped they did. “I’ll see you on Thursday, same time.”

“Thank you.” I gestured toward the door. “You may let yourself out.”

I thought for a moment that he would refuse to leave, but thankfully he dipped his head in a respectful manner. With one hand on the piano, as if it were a friend and protector, I watched him walk toward the door. He grabbed his overcoat and hat before turning back to me with that practiced smile of his. “Good day, Miss Barnes.”

The moment he was gone, I ran and locked the door. Although relieved to have him out of my apartment, I shook from head to toe. I sank into the comfort of a sofa cushion and buried my face in my hands.

What had I gotten myself into?