Prelude for a Lord (22 page)

He positioned the instrument, then struck the first double-stop. The violin had a tinny sound, but the melancholy music hid
some of its worst tones. He did not tempt fate for long and stopped within a few measures. As he dropped the bow away, he exhaled a low, shaky breath.

Mr. Golding gave mocking applause. “Well, at least you have not tricked me on that score. Have you the money as well?”

Bayard noticed the slight tremor of his hand as he reached for the sack of pound notes and shook it, but he did not give it to Mr. Golding.

“That is very satisfactory. You may—”

He was interrupted by rustling in the bushes behind Bayard, then a violent scuffling of earth and leaves, punctuated by grunts. Mr. Golding shot off the bench. There was the thud of a fist impacting flesh, then another. Then a man was flung through the foliage, who landed hard against the back of the seat and flipped over it.

The man was a stranger, with a face like a roughly cut stone. He had hands the size of small boulders and a solidly built torso under the dirty woolen tunic.

Ian and Raven burst out of the trees, but the man lumbered to his feet and moved away from them. Raven’s knuckles blushed red.

Bayard turned to Mr. Golding. “What is the meaning of this?”

Mr. Golding was already backing away. “I should say the same of you, Lord Dommick. You never would have known my associate was present if you had not also had compatriots hidden.”

“Did you think I would meet with you alone?” Bayard tried to sound reasonable.

“You would if you were serious about trading the violin.” Mr. Golding was now several yards away. “I will consider this a definitive answer to my inquiry and assume you have no interest in completing our transaction.” The man turned and ran.

Bayard hastened after him, but while he had the advantage of height and stride length, Mr. Golding obviously knew the gardens
better and had slipped out of sight before Bayard was winded. Ian was only a few steps behind him when he stopped.

“Slippery fellow,” Ian said.

“Raven?”

“He’s after the man with the granite fists.” Ian rolled his shoulder. “He got a solid blow on me before Raven gave him a nice poke in the eye.”

“I am all astonishment,” Bayard said dryly.

“I wouldn’t have been surprised by him sneaking up on us if I hadn’t been saving your bacon.”

“I owe you for that.”

“Too right, you do.”

They returned to the grotto to find Raven there, looking grim. “A great beast such as that should not have been able to catch us unawares. We knew there was a possibility the man would have had his own associate sneaking around.”

“Can a plan be more botched than this?” Bayard muttered.

As Bayard gathered the sack of pound notes and the faux violin, Ian said, “I didn’t see Ord.”

“It will be excellent as long as we don’t see him.” Bayard headed down the gravel walk, flanked by his two friends. “It will mean he is still following Mr. Golding.”

CHAPTER TEN

T
he card party was an insipid affair, although Alethea admitted her foul mood made it especially less enjoyable for herself. Seated at the hostess’s pianoforte, Alethea pounded out a Bach sinfonia in F minor at a funereal pace. It suited her frustrations, which had plagued her since speaking to Dommick earlier today.

“I believe you are playing that too fast,” Lord Ian said as he came up behind her.

She ignored him and embellished a note into a particularly dismal chord.

“I take it you did not agree with Bayard’s decision?” Lord Ravenhurst appeared on the other side of her.

“Why is it
his
decision?” she snapped. “It was
my
idea.”

“You fired it at him rather suddenly,” Lord Ian said. “You must give him time to think it over.”

“He doesn’t want to go through with it because he won’t perform with a woman.” She finished the sinfonia and switched to the fugue in a Bach Toccata in the key of C minor so she could pound out a smashing minor chord.

Lord Ian rattled his finger in his ear. “I believe that piece is supposed to be melancholy, not angry.”

“He didn’t wish to pursue your idea because he felt it would be too dangerous,” Lord Ravenhurst said over the thunderous chords she was producing. “Only consider, we had called upon you bare hours after our trap in Sydney Gardens had failed and Ord had lost Mr. Golding, only to be met with your aunt’s niece sporting a purple eye. And then you suggested playing in our concert in order to display yourself and your violin as bait. You must excuse him for being alarmed.”

“If he truly wishes to protect me and my family, our best course of action is to be on the attack. And after
your
trap had failed, all the better reason to attempt
my
trap.”

“I do not understand why you two are working separately rather than together,” Lord Ravenhurst muttered.

“My point exactly. Which is why I should play in your concert in a few weeks with my violin to lure the villain out.”

“Bayard might be more amenable to the suggestion if he were to play the violin instead of yourself.”

“Many men would hesitate to attack another man who might overpower him, whereas the villain would be overly confident in attacking a woman, who is physically inferior. And all of you will be there to protect me.”

“There will also be dozens of people and servants, any one of whom may be hired to kidnap you or harm you.”

“The point is that it is a
trap
. We shall be tricking him into doing precisely what we want.”

Lord Ian sighed. “You are quite as stubborn as Bayard.”

Alethea thought it prudent to change the topic of conversation. “Have you heard any news about Count Escalari? Someone mentioned he may attend tonight.” Alethea peeked up to glance around the room before she had to look back down at her hands on the keyboard.

“Is he expected in Bath?” Lord Ravenhurst asked.

Alethea finished the fugue on a mistaken chord, quickly corrected. She winced. “I attended tonight specifically because the rumour was that he would be here.”

“From whom did you hear that?” Lord Ravenhurst asked.

“One of the maids, who had heard it from a maid from Lady Eaglen’s house, who had got it from—”

“Never mind,” Lord Ian said with a groan.

“Why do you wish to see him?” Lord Ravenhurst asked.

“To ask about the initials on the violin, of course. Assuming he is Italian,” she said, remembering Signora D’Angelo.

“He is,” Lord Ravenhurst said. “He is acquainted with my mother.”

“How fortuitous. Would you be so kind as to introduce me?”

“Lord Ravenhurst, Lord Ian.” The hostess, Mrs. Penning, approached the pianoforte with Mr. Kinnier in tow. “I insist you two accompany me. There are two young ladies I wish you to meet.”

Lord Ravenhurst bowed with his usual politeness, although there were tight lines around his mouth. Lord Ian, however, gave Mr. Kinnier an icy stare.

Mrs. Penning continued, “I have brought Mr. Kinnier to turn Lady Alethea’s pages for her.”

Lord Ian glanced at Alethea. She gave him a subtle nod. What in the world about Mr. Kinnier so offended Lord Ian?

As Mrs. Penning led the two men away, Mr. Kinnier turned to her with a very correct bow. “What shall you play next, Lady Alethea? I am at your service.”

“I have been playing from memory, sir.” She nodded toward the card tables. “I wouldn’t wish to deprive you of tonight’s entertainment.”

He leaned closer. “In truth, you have rescued me. I am an indifferent card player, and I easily frustrate my partners. If you would allow me to keep you company here at this fine instrument, I should be most grateful.”

She could hardly refuse him. She distrusted his smooth speeches, and yet she had only one overheard conversation to base her opinions upon. Was she being too harsh upon him?

Continuing in her Bach mood, she started a partita in the key of E minor. “How have you enjoyed Bath so far, Mr. Kinnier?”

“It is quite lively. I have heard that you have had some excitement.”

Her fingers twitched, causing her to miss a note, but she picked up immediately and it was hardly noticeable. “Excitement? I assure you, my life is hardly exciting.” Could he have somehow found out about Mr. Golding and Margaret in the park?

“Why, the mystery about your violin is quite intriguing.”

“How so? It is a fine instrument, and I would naturally wish to know more of its history.”

“Many instruments have quite treacherous histories, full of theft, extortion, and violence.”

Her fingers crashed into a chord that Bach had never intended to be played in his piano piece. What did Mr. Kinnier know? What was he insinuating? What did he want?

“Oh, forgive me, Lady Alethea, I did not mean to alarm you. I was not serious. I am sure Lord Dommick will discover that your violin has a quite innocuous history.”

She was overreacting, surely. And yet, why would he use those particular words to describe her violin? She could not read his mood or his thoughts, for his face was as pleasant as ever. She continued with the partita.

Mr. Kinnier added, “And Lord Dommick is . . . creative in his ideas.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“His unorthodox methods certainly give the
impression
of competence.”

She flared with resentment at his implication. “It is my understanding that Lord Dommick is quite knowledgeable about the violin.”

“That is indeed what was said about him. But he has yet to discover anything about your violin, is that not so?”

“This case is quite difficult.”

“Is it?” He gave her a significant look.

What was he saying? She wished the annoying man would speak plainly. “Mr. Kinnier, are you suggesting I find another investigator for my violin?”

“I assure you, I am not suggesting myself.”

His words confused her, but they also made the tightness in her chest ease slightly.

“But are you certain Lord Dommick is capable enough to find the answers to your questions?”

His tone was reasonable, although Alethea did not care for his words. She could hardly accuse him of being self-serving since he did not volunteer his own services to her. She strove for a polite tone, but was afraid she only sounded petulant as she said, “My affairs are my own, sir.”

“You are right. Forgive me.” He looked sincerely contrite. “You must allow me a concern for you and your investigation, which prompted my rash words.”

Alethea added an extra embellishment to the Bach piece. Not exactly a humble apology. She also did not feel the need to accept it. “You are always ever a model of polite behaviour, Mr. Kinnier. You could never say anything rude or insulting.”

He appeared to take it as the forgiveness it was not. He smiled that perfect, glassy smile that made him seem less trustworthy than Dommick’s stern frowns.

She rushed the Bach piece to end it quickly, then stood. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Kinnier?”

He bowed to her, and she walked away, feeling as if she had been attempting to breathe through a piece of wool and only now pulled it from her face.

Alethea hid in the cloak room for a few moments, then headed to the dining parlour where a buffet had been set out. She didn’t care to return to the card room and risk enduring more of Mr. Kinnier’s innuendoes, whether innocent or deliberate, but she hoped to find guests who might know when Count Escalari would arrive in Bath.

She was in luck. There were two groups of women in the room, one with Mrs. Isherton and Mrs. Layston, an older lady who was a friend of Aunt Ebena, and also Miss Oakridge and Miss Nanstone standing in front of the buffet, picking at the lobster patties and cold tongue. The girls stopped chattering as soon as they saw Alethea, then burst into a fit of giggles.

Alethea approached Mrs. Isherton and Mrs. Layston with a smile. “Good evening.”

“We heard your lovely playing,” Mrs. Isherton said.

“I was just telling Mrs. Isherton about my granddaughters’ love for the pianoforte,” Mrs. Layston said and went into a monologue about each granddaughter’s proficiency in the instrument.

However, Alethea could not help overhearing Miss Nanstone’s nasal voice. “People have claimed that her violin is nothing more than a cheap instrument with a dark stain and a painted symbol upon it to give it a more interesting appearance.”

Alethea kept her smile in place as she strained to hear more. Dommick had bought a cheap violin and stained it to fool the extortioner in Sydney Gardens. How had those facts been spread abroad?

“But would not Lord Dommick have recognized the inferior instrument immediately?” Miss Oakridge asked.

“That is what is most astounding. People are speculating that Lord Dommick’s supposed expertise in the violin is all a sham. Otherwise he would have recognized that it was a forgery and would not be continuing his investigation.”

So, it was not the story of the forged violin that had reached
their ears, but aspersions were being cast upon her own instrument. Alethea wondered if people would be speaking of Dommick in such a manner were he in attendance tonight.

“People have said that since she may have embellished the mystery of her violin, there may be other things she has not been entirely truthful about,” Miss Nanstone said.