CHAPTER 4
The Piano
Jenny rattled through the cupboard contemptuously. "Fie, I've never seen a man so bold."
"Perhaps he had business," Alix suggested, sliding to her chin in the warm luxury of the bathwater.
"The shops along that row are for ladies."
"He might've been running errands for his wife."
Jenny came down from the stool with a laugh. "Albert Frisk isn't married! There's nary a woman with any decency that would take him. I've raised four brothers, haven't I? I'm nobody's fool-least of all that one's!"
"Then what do you think he was doing?" Alix probed conversationally, as she reached for the sponge. It had been the same since lunch. At home, she did not fritter away time with gossip, for she would be at work schooling horses on the track. Even during her monthly bouts of indisposition, she was busy in her painting studio. She thought longingly of her painting kit and her unfinished portrait of the white colt Mercury.
The maid shook out a Turkish towel to hang within easy reach. "You sound like one of those detectives from Scotland Yard."
"I scrub floors for the Metropolitan Police," Alix joked, but Jenny's odd look suggested the maid might have believed her.
"He didn't even have the decency to appear he'd been at the haberdasher's; he simply walked up and tipped his hat, as if he expected to find me at the dressmaker's."
Alix sank beneath the bubbles and held her breath. When she surfaced, the maid had arranged scented rainwater rinse with the egg shampoo. "He was right by the door when I came out with the new underpinnings!"
"If he's the rascal you maintain him to be, he's seen plenty of those things before."
Jenny dumped shampoo onto Alix's head and began scrubbing her hair. "That bounder! You're defending him?"
"I'd never dream of it."
"He said something like, 'I didn't imagine I'd bump into you down here,' as if I'd be bowled for six at the sight of him! I gave him tit for tat, didn't I? I asked if he was following me, but then he denied everything and offered to carry my parcels. That rake knew they were underpinnings, brown paper wrapping or not! As if I'd allow such liberties! I should've had a go at him with my umbrella, right then and there!"
"Perhaps it's fortunate you didn't, or you may've had a constable escorting you home."
The maid deftly rinsed away the shampoo as she laughed. "Fie, that'll be the day, when I let the likes of him get the better of me. Then he asked if I'd like to take tea with him; I've never heard of such cheek!"
"I can't imagine."
Reaching for a towel to blot the water from Alix's curls, Jenny smirked knowingly. "Now you see what I mean. Let's just hope your hair dries before bedtime. I didn't plan to be gone all afternoon."
"By the way," Alix mentioned as she wrapped herself in a thick bathrobe, "would it be an imposition to ask Winston for a painting kit?"
"Like an artist uses?"
"Yes, you know. It doesn't have to be elaborate-just a few paints and crayons."
Jenny leaned closer to whisper a warning: "Milady would never ask for such things."
"It would help if you could nick a few books from the library. When I ask, Winston gives me something with illustrations."
"That's because milady isn't a bookworm; she's too busy to read."
"I must do something besides stare at walls." "Next week there'll be plenty to do."
By next week, Alix planned to have the deed to the farm that was her key to freedom. She could only imagine the stack of paperwork piled on her desk: bills of sale and contracts, unpaid invoices and solicitations. Add in her work with the horses, and she would forget about boredom.
"Don't forget the Midsummer Night Ball at Clarence House," Jenny added.
"Certainly," Alix agreed heedlessly.
"You'll be the envy of the evening in your new gown, mark my words."
She was relieved not to worry, because she would certainly be at home before then. "Winston canceled everything," she reminded Jenny.
"Yes, but you've obligations with milord. There's still the ball and whatever else comes up before the weekend at the races. We'll stay the night at the Commons Hotel, so you'll need plenty of things to wear, since everyone will be there."
The idea of going anywhere to dance with Nicholas Griffon made Alix queasy. Even if he did have plenty of money, either Lily must have been desperate to marry or he had been her only choice.
The maid leaned closer to whisper. "In case you've never heard of Oxley Commons, it's a racing establishment on the road to Berkshire. The place is enormous. Besides two tracks, there's the grand hotel where everyone stays whenever the Duke of Wellington is in attendance."
"Oh." The weekend races Jenny described culminated in the Newmarket Hunt. She had originally planned to be there, too, but not in the spectator grandstands. She had reservations in the owners' area on the green beyond the paddocks, where she would watch the races with Robbie. Midnight's brother, Dark Star, was entered in the Newmarket Hunt.
Obediently, Alix moved at Jenny's direction to the fireside. While the maid combed out her hair, she mentally eliminated the places she had already searched.
"Of course, I might've never thought of it on my own. It was milady's idea," Jenny revealed. "It took a bit of imagination, but I'm glad I don't have to pilfer any more meat from the cellar. Making that bloody mess to stain the linens was a shame, but it kept anyone from being suspicious about milady's monthly indisposition."
Alix swallowed her disgust. The planning for every contingency had put Lily in the lead before Alix ever heard the sound of the starter's pistol.
MIDNIGHT STAR PRANCED across the cobblestones outside the park gates. "Easy does it, old son." Nicholas rubbed the black stallion's neck companionably. The diversion of riding through the park on his way home was the singular high point of his day. The lake was larger than his pond at home, and a gathering place for couples with their children. Fathers taught their sons to sail toy boats, and mothers fussed like hens over a spot of dirt. The sound of laughter filling the air was a sad echo of what his life was missing, and better than the silence waiting for him.
The lonely clatter of Midnight's hooves bounced through the quiet neighborhood, until he stopped his horse at the curb as a faint melody someone played on a piano spilled into the street. Even Midnight Star seemed to appreciate the gentle tune. His horse bobbed his head with a throaty whicker and heaved a rattling sigh.
"It sounds as if someone has company for tea." Nicholas left Midnight at the tie stand, intrigued by the music, which grew louder as he walked up the steps. He double-checked his house number as Winston pulled the door open.
"Good afternoon, milord."
"Hello, Winston. I was unaware we're entertaining." "Not at all, milord. Milady's practicing her lessons." "Lessons," Nicholas echoed doubtfully as he stepped inside. He handed off his top hat and gloves, happy his mother was not here to see his damaged reflection in the hallway mirror. "It doesn't sound like lessons to me."
"I daresay it's the only explanation."
In his estimation, it would ta