The Diabolical Baron (9 page)

“Indeed it is, George, and I am deadly serious about
it. Even if we did call off the wager, I would still have
my Aunt Honoria to answer to. I promised her a bride
by the end of the Season,” Jason paused, then added
slowly, “It has occurred to me that perhaps I should
have given you a few more guidelines for the selection.
Miss Hanscombe is a pleasant-enough young lady but
very hard to know, and there is a want of spirit in
her...”

His voice trailed off before he resumed in a more vig
orous tone. “I’m sure she will discharge
her duties well. I could not in conscience draw back
now in any case. I mean to call on her father tomorrow,
and I foresee no problems. As she and I become better
acquainted, I trust we will rub along tolerably well.
I’ll invite her and her family
to Wildehaven right away. The Season will be ending
soon and it will give her a chance to become relaxed
with me before the wedding. If we left at the end of next
week, there would be time enough to improve her
wardrobe before we leave.
Now, if you will excuse me for not
lingering over my port, I must intercept my soon-to-be-
betrothed at Lady Beechwood’s musicale.”

“I’ll go with you,” George said. “I’m sure I
have a card for it around here somewhere, and I’d like
to be present for the final act of your little drama.”

Lady Beechwood’s house was only a few minutes
away. It was obvious when they entered and gave their
hats to a footman that the musicale was in full swing, or
perhaps full voice was a more appropriate term. There
was a distinct caterwauling coming from the reception
rooms that could be identified by the cognoscenti as one
of Miss Smythe-Foot’s infamous assaults on Mozart.
Jason twitched visibly, while George put on his blandest
social face. In a stirring example of British grit in action,
they headed manfully toward the source of the wailing.

Their valor was rewarded by the song’s end and the
beginning of an intermission. Leaving George to his
own devices, Jason scanned the rooms for some time
before sighting his intended. The girl was amazingly easy to overlook; for the first time he wondered if
it was a deliberate effort on her part.

With this intriguing thought in mind, he headed toward the small figure
he located in an alcove at the far end from the perform
ers. She seemed absorbed in her reticule and started
when he spoke to her.

“Are you enjoying the evening, Miss Hanscombe? I
recall you said that you are very fond of music.”

Caroline gave a slight shudder and replied, “Not
when the performances are as inferior as this. It is a
blessing that Herr Mozart is not alive to hear what is
done to his genius.”

Jason gave a broad smile; the girl was capable of a
strong opinion. It was a very good sign. “I see we are in
accord on the subject. I assume you prefer a different
type of music?”

Caroline looked scandalized. “To dignify this drivel as music debases the meaning of the real thing. Music
is the truest language of the heart. It can
express feeling far beyond the power of words to move
us. It can create harmony from anger, impose order on
the chaotic, and carry us to realms beyond imagination.
It...”

She stopped abruptly and colored in confusion.
“I’m sorry. It was very rude to carry on like that.” With a glimmer of a smile she added, “Music is many things
to many people. I trust even Miss Smythe-Foot
finds pleasure in her endeavors.”

Jason watched her transformation with fascinated
eyes. She had become a whole different person for a
moment, with a flash of real beauty. He had little inter
est in music, but he was delighted to see she was capable of passion. It gave him hope for the
future.

“You are more tolerant than she deserves,” he said as
he offered her his arm. “Would you care for some re
freshments?”

Caroline smiled and took his arm, pleased that he felt
as he ought when music was abused. For the first time, they were in charity with one another.

* * * *

Caroline was humming as she sat at her writing desk
the next morning. She felt more relaxed than at any time
since she had met Lord Radford. She still had no idea why he sought her out, but she thought it possible they
might become friends.

She was writing an overdue letter to Signore Ferrante,
her music teacher in Wiltshire. She had not written for weeks to avoid distressing him; he could always sense her moods, and she cared far too much for the old gen
tleman to wish him unhappy on her behalf. Caroline
gnawed on the end of the pen and thought back to their
first meeting.

She had been eight years old and a new student at
the day school in Chippenham, where the signore was
music master. For weeks she had heard fascinating
sounds coming from the music room; it was the
only thing in the school she enjoyed. Shy and tongue-
tied, she was a butt for the older girls’ jokes.

On this particular day the music-room door was open
and she slipped in when she saw the room was empty.
First she had looked around in wonder; there was a
golden harp in one corner and an elaborate pianoforte
in the center of the room. Lying on top of the instrument
were sheaves of music; she had never seen written music
before, and felt frustrated at not understanding it. She
felt she ought to be able to read it; the meaning seemed to lie just beyond the edge of her memory.

After gently striking the center keys, she started to
pick out the tune of “Greensleeves,” her favorite of the old country songs her nurse sang when she was a child.

Signore Ferrante was unnoticed when he came in several
minutes later. Wordlessly he had watched the small fig
ure faultlessly playing the song by ear, singing the
words in a clear true voice. He had crossed to the instrument and said softly so as not to frighten her, “So,
little miss, would you like to learn music?”

She had lifted her deep blue eyes to his and said
gravely, “I want to learn more than anything on earth.”

The signore let the headmistress know of the child’s
interest, and a message went to Lady Hanscombe. She
disliked wasting money on educational extras but play
ing the pianoforte was undeniably necessary to a well-
bred young lady.

Besides, for the first time in her life
Caroline cared enough for something to wage a cam
paign for it. Her ladyship became reconciled to the ex
penditure after she conceived the happy thought that
Caroline could instruct her younger sisters, thus elimi
nating further expenditures.

The happiest hours of her childhood belonged to
Signore Ferrante’s cluttered parlor, for he was soon giv
ing her private lessons in his home. It was obvious that Caroline had an extraordinary talent; her ear was fault
less, she had an amazing memory for both technique
and musical literature, and she learned instruments as if
she already knew how to play them and just needed re
minding. By the age of twelve it was also clear she had a
gift for composition that exceeded even her performing
skills.

Signore Ferrante had sometimes wondered what cruel
fate sent him as a political exile from sunny Italy to this
land of cold rain and cold people, but he wondered no
longer after meeting Caroline. A deeply religious man,
he felt God had sent him to the bambina, to be her
teacher and guide.

He and his placid wife always had
their door open to her, and they found in her a child to
replace those grown and gone from home. The signore would sigh when he thought of God’s oversight in mak
ing Caroline a female and from a high rank of society; a
man would have won acclaim throughout Europe.
Even a woman could have been accepted as a per
former if she came from a class that permitted such a
scandalous career.

Still, he believed such talent as Caroline had was its
own justification. By the time she had been taken off to
the Marriage Mart, she was a skilled performer on all
the keyboard instruments, plus the lute, violin, harp,
recorder, and flute. Her fine singing voice had much
more range and power than would have been expected
from her soft speech.

And she left behind her a handful
of carefully copied musical compositions that could
stand comparison with the best of Europe’s young mu
sical geniuses. Caroline had resisted all suggestions of
publishing her work; she felt she would be forbidden
her music if anyone discovered her in so unladylike a
pursuit as composition. Signore Ferrante didn’t press
her. He knew her time would come.

* * * *

Caroline’s reverie was interrupted by a knock on her door. Turning, she saw one of the housemaids timidly
saying, “Please, miss, you’re wanted in your father’s
study right away.”

She felt a shock of fear. Her father never wanted to
talk to her. It could only be
...
she refused to speculate
further. Drawing a deep breath, she laid her pen down
and rose slowly. “Thank you, Elsie. I’ll go down di
rectly.”

It took all her courage to enter the room euphemisti
cally called her father’s study. He had never been
known to read a book or write an unnecessary letter in
his life; the room served mainly as his escape from his
family.

Going inside, she saw that her stepmother was
also present, giving her a cool smile of approval. It
could mean only one thing.

Sir Alfred came toward her, beaming with self-satis
faction, and said in what was meant to be a fond tone, “Congratulations, my clever little puss. Lord Radford
has been here to ask permission to pay his addresses to
you. Soon you will be Lady Radford. He wishes for
a speedy wedding.” This was accompanied by a lascivi
ous wink.

Caroline stared at her father in dismay. She was just beginning to feel less threatened by his lordship, and now this! Stam
mering and almost incoherent, she embarked on her
first attempt to defy her parents’ will. “But... but I do not wish to marry him. If... wh-when he asks me,
I shall refuse him.”

His good nature instantly transformed into anger, the baronet started turning red while he yelled, “We’ll have
none of your missish airs! You’re damned lucky to have such an offer, and you’ll accept him with no shilly-shal
lying!”

Trembling, a white-faced Caroline said desperately,
“I won’t! I turned twenty-one at the end of February,
and you can’t make me. I’ll leave home and teach
music.”

Purpled with anger, Sir Alfred took two quick strides across the room and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her
violently. Raising one hand to strike her, he bellowed,
“Oh, can’t I now? If you don’t agree immediately, you’ll be begging me—”

“Stop that this instant, Alfred!” Lady Hanscombe
moved forward and seized his upraised hand before he
could complete the blow. “There is no call to behave like
a wild beast. Let me talk to Caroline. She will come
around when she understands what is involved.”

Breathing heavily, Sir Alfred backed off. “See that you
make it good, then, because if she isn’t ready to accept
Radford when he calls tomorrow, she’ll be sorry she
was ever born.” He strode across the room and
slammed the study door with a force that rattled the
windows.

Left with a sobbing Caroline, Louisa hesitated before
starting to address her. She was not a perceptive
woman, but she knew that only the most acute distress
could have caused her stepdaughter to defy her par
ents’ wishes. However, Caroline’s compliance was essential to the family. Since Louisa genuinely believed
Radford would make a good husband, she had no
qualms about using any method necessary to bring the
marriage off.