A Cantata of Love (The Code Breakers 4) (17 page)

She smiled openly at the lady, enjoying suddenly this astonishing connection. “I understand. I am lost if I’m not able to play.”

“Have you found anyone in London to study with that can compare with Monsieur la Toure? I find I am most impatient since no one else inspires me.”

Gwyneth interjected. “Mademoiselle has just joined us in London.”

Gabby had been so lost in the enlightening conversation that she had completely forgotten about her need to hide her identity, and the threatening note.

Gabby looked between her friends “Ladies, I do beg your pardon for my meanderings. We are here to discuss fashion.”

“I’m very much enjoying this conversation.” Amelia sat forward on the edge of her chair. “I feel the same way about my painting. It is important to find a way to express yourself.”

Lady Gwyneth harrumphed again. “I’m feeling quite bereft amongst three talented artists. I don’t possess the soul of an artist.”

Miss Amelia chided her. “You have your own talents.” A conspiratorial smile between the two friends followed, but it was lost on Gabby where Gwyneth’s talents lay.

Madame Abney pulled her robe together and stood. “Please, you must play for me.”

Gabby wanted to play on the grand piano after all the misery she had experienced seeing Michael entangled with the singer. And with her feelings in tumult, pounding the stronger action keys, imagining the keys to be a pair of duplicitous green eyes, would give her great satisfaction. And how unexpected that the lady who brought about her unhappiness also brought a way to rid herself of the gnawing insecurity.

“Please, will you stay and play for me? My man can take you home in my carriage.”

Gabby looked to Gwyneth. This didn’t have the makings of any devious plan by someone who meant her harm. She would be able to detect insincerity in Madame Abney wouldn’t she? She had a good sense of people and their motives, but since her life had been threatened and uprooted she didn’t feel she could totally trust her judgement.

Gwyneth shook her head. “It isn’t possible today. We have Lady Bostwick’s garden party to attend next. Possibly another day, Madame.”

Gabby stood. “I will play for you, Madame, but only if you will play for me. I see there is music on the piano, may I see what you are working on before we must depart?” Gabby looked to Gwyneth for approval. The lady nodded.

Madame walked to the piano and lifted the music sheet. “Bach’s
Jauchzet Gott in allen Landen
. I have never performed this piece written for singer and trumpet.”

Gabby followed the singer to the piano, delighted to talk about music. “‘Shout for joy to God in every land.’ But a sacred cantata for an opera house performance?”

Madame handed the music to Gabby. “It is written to showcase the virtuosity of the soprano.”

Gabby studied the notes written next to the music. Madame had made notations about the orchestration. The revisions were changing the duration of the notes.

Gwyneth stood. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Mademoiselle Gabby, we must leave for Lady Bostwick’s.”

Gabby placed the music on the piano. “Of course, Lady Gwyneth.”

Madame Abney took Gabby’s hands into her own and squeezed tightly. “I am so delighted to have made a new friend. You must come to my performance tomorrow night—backstage. And you must meet my brother. He is in the orchestra, a skilled musician and pianist. He also studied with Monsieur la Toure.”

Surprised by the lady’s unrestrained demonstration, Gabby looked to Gwyneth, who now stood at the door. The lady shrugged her shoulders and then nodded.

“It would be a pleasure,” Gabby said.

The singer definitely was comfortable expressing her strong passion for her art. Gabby had been the same reveling in her passion for music until the Committee of Public Safety began their killing purge. She had learned to hide anything and everything about herself to survive when a mere association to music was enough to be sentenced to the guillotine.

Chapter Twenty

Gabby sat across from Gwyneth in the carriage on their way to Lady Bostwick’s garden party. The ladies of London were no different than those in Paris, filling their days with social visits and parties.

Gwyneth crossed her leg over the other in the same manner as her Aunt Euphemia and reclined against the leather seat. “The season’s demands are usually tedious, but today…”

Gabby and Amelia fanned themselves, attempting in vain to keep the overpowering odors away. The afternoon heat increased the pungent smells of garbage and horse manure from the street. Also similar to summer days in Paris.

“Devil of an afternoon. I never enjoyed myself more. I hope Lady Bostwick’s party will be as intriguing.” Gwyneth looked between Gabby and Amelia. “Which topic should we start with? Kendal or Madame Abney’s association with Josephine de Beauharnais or Josephine Bonaparte, or whatever she is calling herself these days. But I think the way Amelia was about to go off like a bonfire on Guy Fawkes Day, I think it will have to be Kendal.”

Amelia wheezed, “That…”

Gabby did wonder if Amelia had curbed her tongue because of her presence. She would have liked to hear Amelia’s choice of blasphemy. After her years in the convent, she was getting an education she never acquired from the nuns. These unconventional women were nothing like the women she had known in France, although they did engage in silliness similar to French girls when the nuns weren’t about. But those were young girls, not esteemed women of the English peerage.

Amelia shuddered visibly, her skin coloring to a bright pink that clashed terribly with her deep-purple dress. “That woman…I’d have liked to tell her.” Amelia’s voice shook in indignation. “What is there not to know? I have four older brothers. Their escapades with ladies and not-so-ladies would shock most women.”

Gabby was grateful that she sat next to Amelia so the lady couldn’t detect her interest in the conversation. Gabby’s experience with men was very limited, her years in Paris ending abruptly. Her most recent encounter with a golden gentleman left her sleepless, reliving the moment when Michael had pulled her down on top of his hard body, her soft curves melting around him, cradling his obvious desire. She always became breathless, imagining what he would have done next to wring new and exhilarating sensations from her body.

“I wanted to blacken that woman’s eye for implying Michael uses women, like some of the cads we know.”

Gwyneth snorted. “Amelia, I was quite impressed with your restraint.”

“Well, thank you for directing me to my drawings.”

The friends laughed together. Like Michael, these women were too open and ingenuous for her to believe they were lying to her. What could they possibly be lying to her about?

Gwyneth looked at Gabby. “Amelia is the only of my acquaintances able to blacken anyone’s eyes. She has an amazingly strong right arm.”

“The benefits of learning to defend yourself against brothers who solve all their problems with punches.”

“And I thought it came from your cricket playing.”

Amelia twisted on the seat to look at Gabby. “Michael isn’t a rake, not in the way Madame Abney suggested. He spends most of his time in scholarly pursuits.”

Gabby sat up straight. “Scholarly pursuits?”

“Michael is a brilliant linguist. I do believe he would have been happy to spend his days at Oxford studying ancient languages.”

Gwyneth shifted closer across the aisle. “I don’t know this about Kendal.”

“When his father died, Michael was bereft. He was very close to his father, a jovial sort who doted on his wife and children. They were a very happy and loving family. With the death of his father, Michael became the new earl with all the associated responsibilities. He had to leave Oxford and his studies to come to London. Suddenly the sweet scholar was now an earl, garnering all the attention from the ladies.”

“And what man could resist such temptation?” Gabby tried not to sound peevish, but the memory of “Yvette” and “Mimi” and how many more made her resentful and jealous.

Gwyneth glanced at Amelia. “This is when Amelia believed she was in love with him.”

“It was a young girl’s infatuation. But when I came to London for my debut, Michael had changed. A man-about-town, no longer the gentle boy with whom I had grown up and who loved to get into endless trouble with my brothers.”

“It was the same for me with Ash.” Gwyneth uncrossed her leg. “The rogue always sported a different lady on his arm.”

“Gabby doesn’t know about your past with Ash,” Amelia interjected.

“Like Amelia, I’ve known Ash since I was a little girl. He and Cord are the best of friends. And of course, he never saw me as anything but Cord’s younger sister.”

Gwyneth and Amelia were talking to her as friends, sharing their trials in their courtships. Their consideration of her tender and bewildered feelings made her weepy. She had to fight the tears gathering behind her eyes.

“Like Ash and Derrick, Michael is experienced. Women love him; he is charming to the fairer sex because of his wit and boyish looks. And underneath his roguish manner, he is very sensitive. The reason I believed I was in love with him wasn’t because he’s handsome or charming. Although a young boy himself, he comforted me after the death of my mother.”

Gabby recognized his sensitive nature, much like her own. And despite his newest escapade with Madame, she had witnessed his open love and care for his family. She had never seen a gentleman so willing to express his tender feelings.

“He is loyal and caring toward everyone. Derrick told me that Michael was going to call out Cord because he thought Cord had taken advantage of his sister.”

Gwyneth laughed, her mouth wide open, showing her sparkling teeth. “Take advantage of Henrietta? I still can’t believe the change in my brother since he married Henrietta. And talk about reputations; Cord had the worst, and well-earned if the rumors are true.”

Amelia took Gabby’s hand. “Don’t give up on Michael. I’ve known him for a very long time and have never seen him look at a lady like he does you. In my silly childhood, I had hoped he would look at me in that desperate, hungry way.”

Gabby’s stomach fluttered as if there were a horde of butterflies wildly flapping.

“Instead you have a besotted Derrick.”

Miss Amelia’s rosy lips curved into a knowing smile.

“The point is, don’t be too hard on Kendal. I am sure there is more than meets the eye to today’s escapade,” Gwyneth added.

Gabby’s face warmed with the conspiratorial look Gwyneth shot her. “But you must make him suffer a little for his newest outing with Madame Abney. It is what I did to Ash when he was pursuing a certain lady. Men’s ardent way of apologizing is very rewarding.”

Gwyneth watched out the window. “We’ve only got another ten minutes before arriving at the Bostwick’s estate. Let’s get to Madame Abney.”

“Before we dissect if the opera singer knows who Gabby really is, we must discuss the secret you’ve been keeping from your friends. Confess, Gabby.” Amelia searched Gabby’s face.

Gabby’s heart leapt into her throat. Could they know about the note?

No, they couldn’t. These intrepid ladies would have confronted her immediately. Neither would have been able to contain their curiosity. She wanted to share the contents of the note, but the threat held her back.

Gwyneth teased, “You have that many secrets? Amelia is referring to your musical genius.”

“Of course! What else has you worried? You know Gwyneth and I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”

Shame burned and curled inside Gabby. How could she mistrust these woman, who both had only been supportive and protective of her?

“I’m sorry. There is so much to take in. I made a mistake sharing my past with Madame Abney. But I was distracted.”

“Of course you were. Finding Michael in a compromising situation was definitely distressing. And then it was obvious you were enthralled with her piano. I look at fabric the same way, wanting to touch it, explore all the possibilities of the material,” Amelia crooned.

“I couldn’t hide my fascination with the piano. I tried not to tell her much about myself, but when she spoke of Monsieur la Toure…” Gabby felt the familiar burn behind her eyes and the sharp pain in her throat. She wasn’t the kind of woman who gave in to bouts of feeling maudlin. But recently she had succumbed to
pleurer comme une madeleine
. She couldn’t seem to stop crying.

Gwyneth clicked her tongue. “You did well, keeping the information to a minimum and diverting her to discuss music. And no one can fault you for wanting to talk about home and your beloved teacher. No one in England is familiar to you and no one shares your past. It has to be lonely and disconcerting.”

Gabby clenched her lips together, refusing to cry. She nodded.

Her friends seemed to appreciate her distress. Amelia squeezed her hand but looked at Gwyneth, allowing Gabby a moment to compose herself.

“Gwyneth, do you believe Madame’s mention of Josephine Bonaparte was an attempt to see how Gabby would react?”

“I cannot know. But it is suspicious that the day after Gabby comes out in society, Madame requested to consult with you about new gowns. And then her mention of Josephine, and then the invitation for Gabby to be backstage.”