The Baron Next Door (Prelude to a Kiss) (2 page)

This, Lord Cadgwith, means war.

“I
’m so sorry I’m late!”

It was perhaps the third time she’d said as much, but still Charity felt awful. When she’d declared war on Lord Cadgwith, she certainly hadn’t anticipated that
she
would be the one to suffer the first loss. Now she had made both herself and her friend, Sophie Wembley, late to register for the festival recitals.

Charity was
never
late—punctual to a fault, in fact—but the one time she happened to get swept away in what she was doing and lose track of time, of course it would be before something important.

Sophie rolled her eyes and shot her an exasperated smile. “For the last time, it’s all right. I’m always the one who’s late to these sorts of things, so it’s certainly nothing unusual. Oh, look,” she exclaimed, gesturing to the island in the center of the Circus. “Flowers planted to look like music notes! How very clever.”

There were so many carriages clogging the street, Charity caught only a few quick glimpses as they hurried along the pavement, but it was indeed beautiful. Each note was several feet long, and a dozen or so decorated the grass with brilliant pops of reds, yellows, and blues. “Yes, lovely,” Charity agreed, checking both ways before dashing across Bennett Street.

They ducked beneath the banner several workers were struggling to raise, and wended their way through the crowd. Street vendors dotted the pavement, their carts overflowing with flowers, fruits, roasting nuts, and bottles of Bath’s famous waters.

“If I’d have known the pavement would be as crowded as the streets, I might have suggested the carriage,” Charity said between pants. The sun beat down on them, wilting Sophie’s dark curls and causing sweat to form on Charity’s lower back.

“Nonsense—it’s an adventure,” Sophie insisted. Her brown eyes sparkled beneath the brim of her straw bonnet. “Just look at all there is to see. And think: We could be passing a famous opera singer or acclaimed composer as we speak. Well, if they decided to arrive early, and assuming they’d be out and about in this heat, and, well, I don’t suppose they’d need to register for the Tuesday Musicale series with us amateurs—that’s what the Monday, Thursday, and Saturday schedules are for. But still, they could be here.”

Charity laughed despite herself. Sophie did have a way with words. They were close enough now that they could see the sprawling limestone building housing the Assembly Rooms. Dozens of people milled about outside, and heaven knew how many were inside. What time was it, anyway? They’d had less than ten minutes when they’d left Sophie’s townhome, and it seemed to take forever to navigate their way through the clogged streets. She bit her lip; she just knew they weren’t going to make it.

This was all
his
fault, of course. If she hadn’t been so agitated from the baron’s visit, she wouldn’t have thrown herself so thoroughly into her music, and she wouldn’t have lost track of time. After all, one must be fully committed to the passion of the moment if one is to annoy one’s beastly neighbor to the fullest.

Sophie adjusted her hold on her sheet music and oboe case, slowing her pace a bit. “Look at all those people! Oh, I hope they don’t turn us away.”

Anxiety pinged Charity’s stomach. “Oh, please don’t even say it. This is the first thing I’ve had to look forward to in months.”

Sophie tossed a wry smile Charity’s way. “You, too? I must say, this summer promises to be
so
much better than the Season.”

Charity nodded emphatically. God willing, no one in Bath would be watching her over raised fans, whispering to yet another gossip lover.
Oh, look,
Charity imagined them saying,
there goes that Effington girl. The one who lost that earl to a common baker!
She clenched her jaw. They would never understand that Charity had gladly stepped away from the betrothal, and that she was delighted for Richard and his new wife. All they saw was scandal and the irresistible opportunity to bring Charity down a notch or two.

She firmly pushed back against the uncomfortable feelings that thought evoked. Sophie was right: This summer was Charity’s chance to start anew, to find her own happiness, and she intended to do just that.

They ducked through the open doors of the entrance and hurried down the wide corridor leading to the Great Octagon, where the registration was to be held. Judging by the noise, a great many people had turned out to partake of the opportunity, and as they stepped into the room itself, Charity could see that that was exactly the case. The room was packed, with men and women seeming to fill every available nook and cranny. The conversation hovered at a low buzz as people indulged in the opportunity to speak with other music lovers.

“May I help you?”

Charity and Sophie turned to the harried voice of a man dressed all in brown and sitting behind a small table to their right. Sweat beaded at his temples as he peered at them above the gold rims of his spectacles. If he was meant to welcome them, he was miscast in the role; he looked as though he would rather be just about anywhere on earth other than in that room.

Sophie smiled brightly, apparently less intimidated by the situation. “I’m Miss Sophie Wembley, and this is Miss Charity Effington. We are here to register for the recital.”

The man raised an eyebrow first at Sophie and then at Charity. “Is that so? Pity you didn’t come sooner. After all, if you wished to register, you should have arrived on time.”

For the second time that day, Charity was struck speechless by a man’s insolent comment. Who did he think he was, speaking to them like that? Beside her, Sophie gaped at him, her normally cheery brown eyes round with astonishment. Rallying, she said, “Yes, of course. And we did try, Mr. . . . ?”

“Green,” he answered flatly.

Sophie’s smile took on a determined quality as she clasped her hands in front of her. “We did try, Mr. Green, but there was just so much traffic, as though the whole city was out, and the moment we arrived we rushed right here, even though it was
most
unladylike.” As always, her words came out in a flurry, as though she were determined to say everything on her mind without being interrupted.

The man pressed his lips into a thin line before shaking his head. “I understand there was congestion.” He leaned forward a few inches, as if about to impart a secret, and Charity and Sophie naturally followed suit. “Astonishing, isn’t it, that all these people still managed to make it here on time? It’s almost as though they anticipated the possibility of traffic and planned accordingly.”

What a horrible, self-satisfied lout!
Charity’s blood roared through her veins as a retort came to her lips, but, as usual, she couldn’t bring herself to say the cutting words that lay heavy on her tongue. Her heart pounded with both embarrassment and anger, but twenty years of a gentlewoman’s raising could not be overthrown so easily.

As she stood there, stiff and miserable, she could
feel
every eye in the room boring into them. Her cheeks flared as hot as coals, making her humiliation complete.

Swallowing the useless words, she leveled pleading eyes on the man. “Please, sir, there must be something that can be done. We’re both great music lovers and quite accomplished.” She linked arms with Sophie in a show of solidarity. “It would mean the world to us if you could forgive our tardiness and allow us to register.”

The man was completely unmoved, his colorless eyes showing remarkably little emotion—unless apathy was an emotion. “Believe it or not, this entire room is filled with music lovers.
Punctual
music lovers. Now, I would appreciate it if the two of you would refrain from making a scene and leave. Perhaps next year you will have more respect for the honor of participating.”

Sophie looked absolutely stricken, her normally rosy cheeks fading to nearly white. “You’re asking us to
leave
? Just like that? It is not as though we are a pair of beggars from the street. Surely there is someone else we can talk to. I
must
not miss this opportunity.”

She actually looked close to tears. Charity knew
exactly
how she felt. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for—to be a part of the musical community, not just the novelty entertainment after an evening dinner. But thanks to two completely unrelated men with a penchant for ruining her day, she was going to miss out. A rock settled in the pit of her stomach.
Why
had she allowed herself to get so carried away in retaliation against the baron?

He smiled placatingly, like a long-suffering uncle addressing a wayward child. “Have no fear, ladies. You can still participate.”

Charity tilted her head, ready to grasp at any opportunity the man would extend to them, though still wary of his abrupt change in position. “We can?”

“Certainly. After all, an audience member is
almost
as important as the musician.”

Sophie’s expression mirrored Charity’s emotions, going from hope to heartbreak in the space of a second. They exchanged glances, but it was clear there was nothing that either one of them could say to change the man’s mind.

They started to turn, to leave this place and put as much distance between them and this humiliating experience as possible, but a stunning blond woman suddenly stood from her chair. “Wait,” she said, her voice firm and authoritative in a way that Charity’s would never be. She pinned her vivid blue eyes on the wretched man. “This is absolutely absurd. There is no reason you cannot accommodate these two.”

Charity’s jaw dropped right there in front of the whole room. Her cheeks flamed with the knowledge that everyone’s attention was riveted on them, but she couldn’t have looked away from the woman for anything. Beside her, Sophie’s gasp of astonishment had yet to be followed by an exhale. It was just so . . .
bold.
So incredibly forward and just not
done
.

Their champion stood taller than most women, with a statuesque figure wrapped in the finest fabric Charity had ever seen. The lush, rich shimmer of the pink silk was enhanced by incredible gold embroidery that highlighted her enviable décolleté and adorned the entire hem of her dress. She looked as though she had just stepped from the most perfect of portraits or perhaps given life to one of the ancient Greek goddess statues.

Charity wasn’t the only one struck mute. The clerk blinked rapidly, clearly unsettled by the challenge. His throat bobbed as he swallowed—the only noise in the suddenly silent hall. “Er, I, that is—” He paused as his fingers rustled nervously across the papers in front of him. Drawing a deep breath, he lifted his chin and said, “I’m sorry to say I cannot. Rules are rules. There are a limited number of openings, after all.”

The woman stepped closer to him, and the sweat that had glistened from the man’s temples a few minutes earlier now slipped freely down his face. She tilted her head, allowing disapproval to emit from her entire being. “And yet you seemed to have no problem allowing me to register when I myself was late. Is there some reason why you would not extend the same courtesy to these young women?”

The collective whoosh of a hundred heads turning to gauge the man’s reaction was almost comical. His eyes, magnified behind his spectacles, made him look remarkably like a trapped rodent. “A mistake—a misjudgment I am determined not to repeat, Miss Bradford.”

Sophie’s fingers found Charity’s arm and squeezed tight. Charity was too flabbergasted to move, but she did exchange wide-eyed glances with her friend. She was at once appalled and impressed; horrified to be the center of such a confrontation and delighted to have a front-row seat.

Lifting one gracefully arched brow, Miss Bradford said, “Let us not be melodramatic, Mr. Green. In a sea of musicians, there is surely room for two more.”

At the “melodramatic” comment, Mr. Green’s eyes narrowed and he gave his papers a sharp shuffle. “Certainly. If you wish to relinquish your spot, then I will happily pass it along to one of these newly arrived young ladies.”

Charity’s hopes sagged; the mulish flare of his nostrils was back. She bit her lip, wishing she could somehow gracefully extract herself from the scene. She hated the feeling of standing out in the crowd. The sole exception was when she was at her pianoforte, and that was precisely because everything around her simply disappeared.

Miss Bradford’s hands went to her hips. “I should do just that. I was under the impression this was a program for the love of music, not petty rules and punctuality.”

No
—surely she wouldn’t toss away her chances to make a point. Charity’s hand stole up to squeeze Sophie’s. It wasn’t right. They couldn’t let the poor girl suffer simply because she had stood up for them. But with the weight of everyone’s stares boring into her chest, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

Mr. Green snatched up his quill and held it threateningly over his ledger. “Very well. Which of you would like to take Miss Bradford’s place?” He glared up at them expectantly, somehow taunting the woman without even looking at her.

“No, no, no,” Sophie said, tugging her hand from Charity’s arm and depositing it on her waist. “We’ll not take this kind woman’s place.”

Charity swallowed and nodded. “Certainly we cannot. Not,” she hastily added, cutting her gaze to Miss Bradford, “that we don’t appreciate the gesture. But it is our own fault that we didn’t arrive when we should have, and I won’t have you suffering for our mistake.” Cheeks flaming, Charity forced herself to stand tall.

Shaking her head, Miss Bradford showed no signs of giving up the fight. “Well, I will
not
take a spot that I haven’t earned by the
rules
. And I don’t believe I need to be involved with an organization that has so little heart.” She stalked over and picked up a small stack of papers from her chair.

With her stomach in the vicinity of her knees, Charity drew in an unsteady breath. “Please don’t leave. We could never forgive ourselves if you lose your opportunity because of us. We’ll leave and you stay.”

A small smile teased the corner of Miss Bradford’s lips. “After taking a stand on the matter? Absolutely not. Besides, I am not so very attached to the idea. And, provided
he
shan’t be there, I shall happily cheer you from the audience.”