Chapter 6

Chapter Six

“ Y ou wish to sell your music?” John echoed.

“Yes. I will bring more compositions once I have more time to play the piano,” Alexandra answered.

“Let me see them,” John requested, his voice even.

Alexandra could not read his emotions, and it was making her palms sweat. Her hand shook a little when she passed the folio to her old tutor.

“T-They, uh, should be appropriate for dinner parties and balls.” She fiddled with the lace peeking through her thick coat.

“As most things are nowadays,” John replied dryly as he sifted through the sheets. He then set them on the music rest.

Alexandra’s heart raced. The music that was in her head, that she had worked on for weeks, would now be heard by someone else—someone who could decide if it was good or not.

She balled her fists as John nodded while reading the sheet music. Then, he straightened his back and stretched his fingers over the keys. Alexandra squeezed her eyes shut.

Suddenly, music filled the room. Her music.

The ivory keys echoed the harmony and contrast, recreating a world of dreams and wishes. It spoke of Alexandra’s hope for her future. The music was lighthearted but unique.

When she opened her eyes, she could see John swaying to the rhythm. She envied how his body had become one with the notes, ones that she had painstakingly written but could not claim.

She was, after all, only a woman.

The notes became darker near the end. The melody became sharper and more fragmented, and the tempo seemed to be racing to a violent end.

She gasped, as John had to push his usually calm self to reach the heights of her music.

Then, there was silence.

John was breathless, his fingers trembling over the keys. When he twisted to face her, his face was full of concern.

“Y-You didn’t like it?” Alexandra asked.

If there was one thing she was confident about, it was her music. If she couldn’t have even that, then what was her purpose?

“It’s stupendous, Your Grace. But is there something the matter?” His brow was furrowed as he rested his elbows on his lap.

He seemed prepared to listen to her—to whatever woes she might share.

“Nothing is the matter, John,” she lied.

Everything was wrong. She was married, not out of love but for convenience. Her father was drowning in debt, and his life might be in danger. And on top of all that, she could not even sell her music with her name on it.

“The music is frenzied. It is beautiful, but there is anxiety in it. Loss of control. It deserves more than simply being played at dinner parties. It must be played at concertos,” John spoke, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“W-Well, that is a marvelous compliment coming from you, John.” Alexandra realized that her shoulders had been hunched the whole time they were conversing. She straightened her spine as hope bloomed in her chest. “And it could fetch a good price?”

“Yes. However, you must be honest with me, Your Grace. Why do you need the money so badly? You are a duchess. Forgive me for asking, but is the Duke a cruel man? Has he not given you an allowance, as he should?”

“No, John. He is not cruel,” Alexandra responded a little too sharply. “He is a decent man. He provides for me, but I have to earn my own coin. Why can’t a woman earn her own living, even by using a man’s name?”

“If he is a good man, you should not need the money. Your husband is more thrifty than other men like him. He is wiser than most people think he is. At least, that is what I have heard. Alexa—Your Grace, what you are doing is dangerous.”

“Dangerous? How can it be? You take my sheet music and sell it under the name J. Lewis. You said they can be sold as concerto pieces.”

J. Lewis was a name she came up with—J for Julian, her late brother, and Lewis, a variation of her mother’s name, Louisa.

“That may be true. However, these compositions are excellent. People will want to know who wrote them. They won’t be happy about the secrecy.”

“What about that painter, Eric Westback? I have been informed by a friend that despite him remaining anonymous, the ton still buys his art,” she responded, recalling some of the letters she’d exchanged with her friend Lady Mary Barrington.

John sighed. “That is true, but they are constantly speculating about his identity. Word travels fast in the ton , Your Grace. One wrong move and you—and eventually this Westback character—would be found out.”

Alexandra fell silent. She knew there were risks, but she did not know exactly what. Nobody was willing to discuss such things with women, especially ladies like her, who were born in supposedly respectable, noble families.

John took her silence as a prompt to continue. “Your reputation can be ruined. You keep visiting me without an escort. You came here when it was still dark out. And I am quite certain your husband is not aware of it.”

“No, he is not,” Alexandra replied, looking up.

“Even if you do not fear for your reputation, think about your husband’s name,” John advised. “He is a man of great status. Imagine if people think his wife is breaking her marriage vows. If you are ostracized, Your Grace, no one will buy your music.”

“I am aware of the risk, John. But I need to do this.”

“Your Grace, if your identity is unmasked, it might expose you to accusations of fraud. As a woman, you are not expected to sell sheet music. You are of genteel birth and a good marriage.”

“I will sell them under a man’s name, John, as I said. It is not for myself, but for someone whose life may be in danger. Use the name J. Lewis. Please.”

A shadow passed over his face, as if he could tell exactly who it was that needed saving.

Alexandra took a deep breath and smoothed down her cloak. She had to go before her husband discovered her absence.

“Very well, Your Grace. I shall find you a buyer. I will contact you once it’s done.”

“Thank you, John.”

“You are welcome, Your Grace.”

The sadness in his voice made it clear to her that while he admired her work, he also pitied her.

Alexandra slipped out of the lodgings, her heart thundering with apprehension.

The sun was completely up, its bright rays illuminating even the narrow alley she had to walk out of to the marketplace. One small tug on her cloak and someone would see her face and expensive dress.

Not many people might know her now, but Oliver had plans to introduce her to other members of the ton . They could still associate her with the mad chit who slipped into a man’s lodgings at dawn without an escort.

Once in the marketplace, her heart sank when she did not see the carriage. Where was it? Where was the coachman?

Her temples throbbed as she paced back and forth until she spotted the carriage down the street. Ted must have moved it away to accommodate the tradesmen setting up their stalls.

She inhaled the cold air as she climbed into the comfort and safety of the carriage.

“Are you all right, Your Grace?” Ted asked.

“I am fine, simply tired,” was her brief reply.

The coachman sounded concerned. For her. For himself.

Whatever happened to her, Ted would be implicated, too. As Ellen would be. It was not just a risk to herself, Alexandra realized, and she wondered why she still cared about her father. He did not care about her. She could simply leave London and retire to the countryside, and let her husband live a bachelor’s life.

She was not going to be selfish. After all, it was merely an arrangement. They were married in name only. There was nothing else between them.

“His Grace has arrived, Your Grace,” Ted announced solemnly as they approached the townhouse.

True enough, Oliver’s carriage was already there.

Wild-eyed, Alexandra attempted to come up with an excuse for her absence.

“I bought some pastries and bread, Your Grace. They are in the basket to your left, the one covered with the red cloth,” Ted suddenly said.

Alexandra heaved a sigh of relief, grateful for the man’s quick thinking. She knew that her husband was a rake and a pugilist, but he was also an intelligent man.

“Thank you, Ted. But you must know that I did not betray your master.”

She felt the need to clarify that. No matter how fair she thought it would be for Oliver to find solace in someone else’s arms, she could not imagine seeking another man even though she was not married for love. It went against her beliefs. Her father was already dishonorable enough for both of them.

“I know, Your Grace,” Ted reassured her. “If I may speak boldly, though, people will not care about the truth. They want a scandal,”

She nodded at that, taking the basket with her as she alighted from the carriage. She took shaky breaths, hoping Oliver would not notice her nervousness, but she was not given enough time to compose herself.

Just as she raised her hand to knock on the door, it swung open.

“Ah, Duchess. There you are.” Oliver narrowed his eyes at her, his head tilted to the left.

Alexandra swallowed as she prepared to give an excuse. For she could not tell him the truth.