Now, he heard Henri’s light and quick footsteps heading toward his bedchamber and braced himself.
“Your Grace,” Henri said, after a quick knock. “I assume you had a fine—”
Henri stopped mid-sentence, the look of horror on his features telling the tale. His valet had perceived the lemon cake’s handiwork.
“What has happened to you?” Henri cried.
“A certain Miss Mayton, her clumsy hands, crumbs, and icing,” he answered.
Then came a string of French oaths that would not bear repeating but had much to do with various ways Miss Mayton must die.
Henri took Balthazar’s coat and held it in front of him as if it were a wild animal. “We will see if this can be rescued, but I am not hopeful. It is the finest of Italian wool and the finest Italian fabrics do not care to be disrespected in such a manner! The people of Florence would be up in arms if they knew of this insult! Tell that Miss Mayton she is not to show her face in Florence, lest the people throw her into the Arno River!”
“Yes, yes,” Balthazar said. He had no idea why Henri thought the people of Florence were always to be revolting in the streets and throwing people into the Arno over a stain on his clothes. As it was a thing his valet mentioned often, he supposed they were a rather tautly strung sort of people.
“Ça ne fait rien, I will carry on despite this setback,” Henri said in a certain tone.
Balthazar recognized it as the tone that indicated his valet expected to be commended for his bravery and valor in dispatching his duties.
“I have every faith in your abilities,” he said to smooth ruffled feathers.
“Je suis courageux,” Henri said.
“Nobody braver,” Balthazar said.
“And so, now that Henri has calmed himself,” Henri said, “I imagine Lady Hightower’s musical evening was as riveting as it is every year?”
“Just so. Though, there were a few surprises. Lady Hightower provided a magnificent Tokay, very dry. You ought to talk to Bellforce about where he got it.”
“Bellforce,” Henri said, looking down his rather long and straight nose, “all mystery and ‘I cannot reveal this,’ and ‘I cannot tell you of that,’ and ‘that is only for me to know.’”
Balthazar rather thought that would be the case. Bellforce had never shown any appreciation for Henri’s particular brand of highhandedness.
Henri threw his shoulders back. “Ifthat Bellforce person has found a superior dry Tokay, I will find one better! I will find the driest. It will be so dry you will not perceive you’ve had anything to drink.”
Balthazar nodded, though it did not sound very appealing. “Lady Rosalind entertained with her very unique stylings on the pianoforte.”
“What does this mean? Was she very good or very bad?” Henri asked.
“The adorable creature was positively ghastly. I believe she cannot read sheet music and so just strings together a bunch of notes she remembers, then when she runs out of memory for that piece, she reaches for another string of notes that come to mind. There are long pauses when she stares down at the keys and one holds one’s breath to hear what she will do next.”
“This sounds very English,” Henri said.
Balthazar was well aware that was no compliment. Henri thought the English were, in general, unsophisticated brutes. Balthazar himself was given an exception, but only because he’d had the good sense to employ a remarkable French valet.
“She concludes every performance with an arpeggio of her own design that ends very abruptly.”
Henri shook his head sadly. “For all this, though, you like to talk to her.”
“I admit that I do,” Balthazar said. “I never know what she’ll say next. I find listening to her very entertaining.”
“Just do not kiss her, then! Do not make that mistake! You do not want such an offense to music in your house.”
Balthazar did not answer. For one, he had no intention of kissing Lady Rosalind, as interesting as the prospect might be. For another, he was certain his valet took far too many liberties.
He would not scold him over it though. Just now, his valet was in too fragile a state of mind after viewing Miss Mayton’s assault on his clothes and considering that Bellforce would never tell him where he got the dry Tokay.
Chapter Seven
