Chapter 5

5

Sophia ran her hand over the midnight blue satin gown spangled with thousands of tiny winking stars and sighed. She had no intention of wearing the luxurious garment, but she did indulge in a moment or two of wishful thinking. The last five days of her life had been a revelation. She'd begun to believe in herself as a musician. She'd learned so much of the mysteries of notes and rests and rhythms written on the pages of the dozens upon dozens of music books the earl had gifted her. Most of all, she'd spent hours of every day with a man who saw her as an equal.

Joshua Norcross treated her as a fellow musician. A musician in training, but a musician. He pushed her to write down the songs she'd made up herself. He grew exasperated when she made silly mistakes in the exercises he gave her. He tested her with questions and pieces written for the harp. In the music room he was a tyrant. Outside of the music room? He was a flatterer. An accomplished flirt. And a sensual presence to which she was drawn like a new piece of music she wanted to explore and play and fill her senses with.

His very touch made her shiver. His voice provoked sensations she'd never experienced in her life, not even with the earl. Sensations that had her shifting in her chair, squeezing her legs together, covering her bodice with a shawl. His scent, an intoxicating mix of ambergris, ink, and male. She suspected the ink came from the hours he spent in the music room late at night composing. Not that she'd sneaked down the stairs to stand in the dark corridor and listen to him at the piano. At least not every night.

Her bedchamber door burst open and the other three mistresses tumbled in like a litter of scantily dressed puppies.

"Why aren't you dressed?' Lily asked as she dragged her to stand in front of the long stand mirror. She began to unpin and unlace the day gown Sophia had put on that morning. "Short Rutherford has shaved Mr. Norcross and is helping him dress as we speak."

"She thinks she isn't going," Margot called from the dressing room and from the sound of it was ransacking the room like a herd of hungry goats. "Where are your black slippers? Aha! Found them!"

Margot's maid, Gabrielle, took the gown, stays and chemise Lily had stripped her of and handed Lily the midnight blue gown. The actress threw it over Sophia's head and was cinching her into the frothy, decadent concoction before she knew it.

"Margot, what are you doing here? It is your night with the earl. And why am I getting dressed? I am not going anywhere. Saida, what are you looking for in that drawer?"

"Derek sent the most beautiful box of glacé fruits and his apologies. You are getting dressed so that your music master can take you to the charity concert at Vauxhall. Not those, Saida, the black ones."

"The black what? Will you stop turning me about like a clockwork doll? Ooof!" Lily had finished squeezing her into the dress and shoved her into the chair at her dressing table.

"Stockings," Saida said as she held the black stockings up like a country fair prize. "Here Margot. Gabrielle, can you do something with her hair? Who brought the mask?"

"Mask?" Sophia began to believe she'd fallen asleep and awakened in Bedlam. Margot knelt at her feet tossed up the skirt of the spangled gown and began to draw the black silk stockings up Sophia's legs. She tied them with silver garters Sophia had never seen before tonight. Then she shoved Sophia's feet into a pair of black slippers and tied the ribbons tightly around her calves.

"I thought you had it," Lily said as she started toward the bedchamber door which they'd left slightly ajar.

"I have it." Mrs. Collins slipped in through the open door and closed it behind her. "You must hurry. Mr. Norcross is pacing the foyer." She handed Saida a delicate silver mask.

"You know I cannot go," Sophia said even as a funny pang enveloped her heart. She'd told Mr. Norcross she could not possibly go when he'd first introduced the idea of her attending the special charity concert being given at Vauxhall to raise funds for the Countess of Livingston's school for orphans. Vauxhall was usually closed by the end of September at the latest. The pleasure garden was being opened especially for this invitation only concert.

"You all know why I cannot go." Sophia looked wistfully at each of them in turn.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Collins said in that brisk commanding tone of hers. "The invitations to this event sent out to a very select group of people. No one from your old life will be there. You can wear the mask all night which will make doubly certain no one will recognize you."

"The earl—a"

"Is spending the evening with some old school friends…discussing a venture they are undertaking together. He never goes to these sorts of events. He simply sends his money." The ladies all looked at each other knowingly. Not to actually work in his home, Mrs. Collins knew a great deal about the Earl of Framlingwood. She pulled Sophia to her feet. "Short Rutherford has your cape downstairs."

Sophia stood in the middle of her bedchamber and glanced at her reflection in the long stand mirror. Gabrielle had dressed her hair with jeweled pins that winked in the lamplight. At some point the maid had added the diamond and sapphire earrings and necklace the earl had given Sophia for her birthday to the ensemble.

"Go," Saida urged as she pushed her toward the door. "The sooner you go the sooner you can come back and tell us all about the concert."

"And any other entertainments you might enjoy," Margot said with a knowing grin.

"Young Rutherford and Tall Rutherford are going with you as well as John Coachman." Mrs. Collins led her into the corridor and to the top of the stairs. The others followed closely, but the housekeeper waved them back when she and Sophia peered over the balustrade and saw Mr. Norcross waiting in the foyer below. "You'll be perfectly safe. Shall we?"

Sophia descended the stairs to the second floor and then the first floor. She hesitated before heading down to the foyer. A quick glance up and she saw four lady-shaped shadows at the third-floor balustrade. With a deep breath she took the final stairs. Mr. Norcross turned and for a moment she wondered if something was badly wrong with her appearance. Then he smiled and that smile shot through her body in a wave of heat and light.

"My dear Mrs. Hawksworth," he said, as he bowed over her hand. "You are a work of art come to life." He brushed his lips across her ungloved fingers. When he straightened he stared up at the third-floor balustrade, in shadows now because apparently someone up there had doused all the lamps. Sophia heard scuffling feet and muttered curses as the shadows faded back into the corridor. She tapped Mr. Norcross on the chest and he turned back to her.

"And you sir, are a consummate rake and scoundrel," Sophia replied as she dipped a short curtsy. "But I thank you. Though I am still uncertain as to whether I should attend this concert."

"Which is our cue," Mrs. Collins said as she draped a long deep blue velvet cape around Sophia's shoulders. "Rutherford." She nodded at Short Rutherford who immediately opened the front door. Mr. Norcross drew Sophia's arm through his and led her out to the small but elegant carriage waiting in front of the house. Young Rutherford and Tall Rutherford, dressed in simple black and gold livery sat on the bench mounted to the back of the carriage. Young Rutherford hopped down to open the door and lower the steps.

"You look beautiful, ma'am," he said quietly as he helped her into the carriage.

"Thank you, Rutherford," she said as she leaned close to him. "So do you." The footman laughed and blushed as he returned to his position at the back of the carriage. Sophia settled into the comfortable squabs of the front facing seat and arranged her skirts as John Coachman whistled the horses into motion. When she looked up, Mr. Norcross was watching her, a little smile playing about his firm lush lips.

"Do you call your underbutler and all the footmen Rutherford because it is easier or—"

"They are brothers, Five of them actually. They are actually all underbutlers, as they are quick to tell the other servants, and their father is our butler. But they do serve as footmen when we need them.

"We?"

Damn! She wanted to kick herself. Joshua Norcross took her guard down in more ways than one, and that was a dangerous state of affairs. "We. The household. Mrs. Collins, and Cook, and the other servants. We. And I believe they serve as underbutlers to some of the neighbors. Mrs. Collins knows more about that."

"I see. I've only encountered the butler once, and briefly at that, which is rather unusual, don't you think?"

She snorted. "You should count yourself fortunate. He is an arrogant, strict, hard sort of man, who drinks if you must know. We all call him Toplofty Rutherford."

The music master laughed. "Toplofty, eh? I shall keep an eye out for him. And the others? Do they have names as well?"

"Indeed. Short Rutherford is the one with whom you are most familiar. The two accompanying us are Young Rutherford and Tall Rutherford. The other two are Quick Rutherford and Slow Rutherford."

"You have a very colorful and unusual household."

"I am an earl's mistress. Is that not unusual enough?"

"You are an earl's mistress who is hiding from someone or something."

Sophia swallowed and pushed her toes to the end of her slippers to steady herself against the carriage floor. "What could I possibly be hiding from?"

"That's the question, isn't it? You were born and raised in Seven Dials or so you said. And these Rutherford fellows are well-spoken and well-dressed enough, but I have encountered them playing cards in the kitchens late at night and I suspect their upbringing was much the same as yours."

"And? What does that signify?"

"Nothing unless you count your multiple refusals to attend this concert. Until you came down those stairs, I was certain you would not attend. I am not so foolish as to believe the lure of an evening in my company changed your mind. I suspect it was the mysterious Mrs. Collins or perhaps the presence of your Rutherford guards." He crossed his arms and propped one booted foot on his knee. "Not that I care. I am simply happy you came."

"Well," she said, and fiddled with her skirts. "You did say there would be food. And fireworks. And that they would play Handel." She gazed at him from under lashes and prayed her flirting would divert him from the idea she had something to hide. Or someone to hide from.

"So I have found something to appeal to at least some of your appetites." The rich timbre of his voice lent a sensual air to the word appetites and from his expression that was his intention.

"Some," she agreed. Sophia peeped out the drawn curtains of the carriage window. "I need to put this on," she said as she held up the mask. "Before we arrive at Vauxhall."

"Of course." He moved across to sit beside her and took the mask. With great care he fitted the silver piece to her face and tied the ribbons securely without mussing her hair. "You will have all of Vauxhall curious about the beauty in the guise of the night sky."

"I hope not," she said softly. He brushed his fingers across her collarbone, exposed by the cut of the dress. The bodice cradled her breasts and raised them in such a way that the very tops were visible but nothing more. The modiste the earl had sent to the house was very kind, very sympathetic, and very skilled. Sophia had not worn the gown before tonight. Why would she? She could count on one hand the number of times she'd left her Grosvenor Street refuge in the three years she'd lived there. None of those excursions required such an elegant dress.

"We have arrived." The carriage had barely stopped moving before Tall Rutherford had the door open and the steps down. Mr. Norcross was out in a thrice and handed her down. Sophia gave the two footmen and John Coachman one last look at their posts by the carriage before she allowed her music master to lead her onto the Grand Walk lit by colorful lanterns. She took every bit of the splendor in with her eyes, her ears, and even her nose as the scents of flowers, lamp oil, and people filled the air.

Fortunately, Mr. Norcross must have sensed her wonder as he slowed his pace and allowed her to look her fill. "So very different," she said. "It is all very different from when I was last here."

"I would imagine so," he replied. "You were a child, were you not?"

"Of course." As they drew closer to the orchestra and the private boxes around the pavilion the crowd around them grew larger. Richly dressed men and women brushed past her, most without glancing her way, thank goodness. They arrive at one of the more expensive private boxes directly across from the orchestra.

"Here we are, milady." Mr. Norcross indicated she should sit on one of the cushioned seats. He took her cape from around her shoulders and hung it on a hook on the wall of the box. Once he sat across from her, a footman arrived almost immediately, and the music master ordered food and drink for them. "I have a surprise for you, Mrs. Hawksworth."

"I think it is time you called me Sophia," she said as she eagerly studied the music program on the table.

"Only if you call me Joshua." He was studying the orchestra as the musicians gathered in the pavilion and prepared to play. A tall, young gentleman took a seat at the harp and waved at Mr. Norcross…Joshua.

"Very well, Joshua." She paused as the footman returned with a loaded tray and began to place the contents on their table. There was a plate of ham slices, beef slices, bread, butter, several kinds of cake, olives and champagne. "I have two questions." She selected several items and put them on the empty plate the footman had placed before her. "How were you able to afford this box and this feast?" She began to eat. The ham was thin, but quite good. She kept her eyes on his face as he pondered her question and offered her a glass of champagne.

"I have a generous friend, Captain Atherton or rather his wife, Lady Honoria Atherton. They had tickets to this concert as they are both patrons of the countess's orphanage. They decided not to attend as Lady Honoria is with child and not feeling well of late. All of this," he waved his hand over the table and out to the gardens. "Is a gift from him. We went to school together. And your second question?"

"Who is the handsome young harpist?" She nodded in the direction of the orchestra whilst she bit into one of the little cakes. The cream filling coated her lips and dripped down her chin. Joshua reached across the table and wiped the cream up with his forefinger. Then he placed that finger on her lips, offering her the cream. She drew in a breath and sucked his finger into her mouth, drawing the cream from it before she released it with one last lick. His eyes flashed in the dim lamplight. Sophia was playing with fire, but she could not stop.

From the moment he walked into her life, Joshua Norcross evoked feelings, sensations, and yes, dreams in her she'd never experienced in her life. She'd never been courted. She'd never been seduced. Her relationship with the earl was singular and she did not look on it as anything other than an arrangement between…friends. Not master and servant as he never treated her as such. But no one had ever treated her the way Joshua did, a way that both thrilled and confused her. She'd been her father's daughter. She'd been Elias's wife. She'd been the Masked Harpist. She was the earl's mistress. Who was she with this man who taught her the wonders of music and made her long for the wonders of pleasure?

"The harpist's name is Elias Alvars. He is only eighteen, but he has tremendous talent and great potential. Like someone else I know." Joshua gazed at her meaningfully. Fortunately, the orchestra began to play and Sophia used that as an excuse to look away from his searing eyes and tempting mouth.

The concert opened with Handel's Water Music Suite Number One in F Major. Sophia sat on the edge of her seat to watch each part of the orchestra as they brought the beautiful music to life. What Joshua had t aught her so far about notation and composition opened an entirely new avenue for her to enjoy and decipher the piece. The orchestra played all three of the suites and during the last one fireworks burst over the pleasure gardens. She could not hide her delight and Joshua was equally unable to hid his pleasure in watching her as she enjoyed the entertainment. To her chagrin she managed to eat nearly as much as Joshua did. Of course, she'd been unable to eat all day so worried was she about actually leaving the house. With him.

The orchestra played a variety of popular tunes and pieces from operas and oratorios as well as the Handel selections. Toward the end of the program Sophia noticed a song for harp solo listed—An Appreciation of Beauty by Anonymous. The young harpist, Elias Alvars, moved from the Erard harp he had played all evening to a simpler pedal harp. As he began to play Sophia gasped. She looked at Joshua who inclined his head in unspoken answer to her question.

A thousand emotions beset her. She could not believe her ears. The shock was so complete she missed the first several bars and immediately wanted to ask the harpist to begin again. She peeked quickly at the reactions of those in the boxes next to theirs. Then she quickly perused the crowds milling about the orchestra. As Alvars played the people grew gradually silent under the spell of the young man's performance. Her eyes stung. She found breathing difficult. Joshua covered her hand with his. She wrapped her fingers around his and held on tightly. The notes she'd written, copied laboriously onto the page seemed to float from the orchestra and wrap around her.

The piece ended. People applauded. She could not believe her eyes. They were applauding for a piece she had written. The young man stood and bowed to acknowledge the applause and then the looked directly at the box where she and Joshua were seated and inclined his head.

They listened to the last few pieces in silence, though Joshua never let go of her hand. She drank more of the champagne, a little too much as she felt somewhat lightheaded. When the concert ended most of the ton attendees remained in their boxes, talking and watching each other. The rest of the crowd dispersed to view the various other entertainments or to stroll the gardens. Because this was a private event only the best and most tasteful performers had been hired. Sophia, however, could hardly sit still. Her entire being hummed with warmth and excitement. Joshua no doubt sensed her restlessness. He stood and offered her his arm. She retrieved her cloak and they began to stroll down the tree-lined walks beneath the soft glow of the hanging lanterns.

She'd seen Young Rutherford and Tall Rutherford strolling amongst the crowd around the orchestra. Now they followed her and Joshua, though at a discreet distance.

"Why did you do that?" she finally asked as they strolled down the Dark Walk and turned onto one of the many hedge-lined alcoves. The Rutherfords took up posts at the entrance to the alcove. The noise of the crowds and entertainments faded to a low buzz. The few lanterns in this part of the walk provided enough light to see his face, but not enough to allow anyone else to see them. Though from the sound of the wind and the silence on the walk they were completely alone and far enough from the Rutherfords to not be heard. "Why did you give that young man my piece to play?"

"Did it make you happy? Were you proud when you heard the people applaud something you created?" He directed her to a stone bench tucked under a bower of white hydrangeas. She sat and he sat next to her, still holding her hand.

"Yes, it made me happy. It also surprised the devil out of me. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have said yes?"

She studied his face and shook her head. "I barely decided to come with you this evening. Do you really think I would have allowed you to share something I wrote with half of London? The wealthy aristocratic half?"

"You have answered your own question. I did it to make you happy. I didn't ask because I knew you would say no. It was worth risking your wrath to see the look on your face and to see how excited you are now. There is nothing like sharing something you have written with strangers and have them appreciate the gift of your music. I wanted you to experience that."

"You are a wicked scoundrel, Joshua Norcross." She pulled her hand free. "You have no right to confuse me like this." She fisted her hands in the spangled skirts of her gown.

"Confuse you? What have I done that is so confusing?" He furrowed his brow.

Sophia drew in a breath, redolent with the perfume of hydrangeas and the brisk October air. She touched her palm to the side of Joshua's neck. His pulse beat furiously against her hand. "This," she said as she drew his head down and took his mouth in a languid exploration of a kiss.