Page 50 of A Symphony for the Earl

Lady Amelia looked up and saw her in the doorway. Her eyes were red-rimmed.

“Fiona, what have you done? How could you send Peter home? Riding alone with an eligible bachelor in Hyde Park…it’s just not done. Richard will be furious, and I will be to blame.”

“No, Lady Amelia, he cannot hold you to account. It is entirely my wretched fault, and I will make him see that.” Impulsively, she sank to the floor beside the chair and took Lady Amelia’s delicate hand, pressing it to her cheek.

“I am so sorry…it’s my awful disposition, you see. I just can’t bear to be ordered about.”

“But who is ordering you, my dear?” The older woman looked bewildered. “It’s just how things are done. We can’t just run amok, you know.”

“I understand. Believe me, I did not consider the repercussions. And I am so very sorry to cause you distress. How is Valentina?”

“Better,” mumbled a sleepy voice from the sofa. “Just tired. Tell me you didn’t meet anyone in the park?”

“We did,” she confessed. “Mrs. Davenport and Lady Cowper.”

“Not Emily Cowper,” moaned Lady Amelia.

“She is one of the biggest sticklers for propriety in London, and Eleanor Davenport can be vicious. I do wish you hadn’t gone, Fiona,” Valentina sighed. “It reflects badly on all of us.”

A wave of shame washed over her, and Fiona wished above all things she could take back the moment she galloped away from Sir William and young Peter. “I truly did not consider the consequences. It was foolish and inconsiderate. Please, please accept my apologies. I will do whatever is necessary to repair the damage.”

Lady Amelia huffed and pointedly lifted her magazine between them.

“Well, I don’t know what Richard will have to say, Fiona, but I am sure it will not be pleasant. You must promise not to irritate him further.” Valentina drew the blanket around her fretfully. “Why don’t you go practice your selections for Saturday? I am sure no harm can come from that.”

Chapter Seventeen

Lord Richard Sends Word from the Country

Saturday was a blur of practice for the musicale. She chose the challenging Beethoven Sonata in C Minor, and if a second piece was requested, the Allegro of Mozart’s Sonata No. 12 in F Major. The Beethoven sonata was a lengthy piece, full of tenderness and turbulent emotion. Once, Richard had asked what music stirred her passion; she hoped he would be there to hear the answer to his question.

Surprisingly, she missed his presence at Merrick House. It might be more peaceful without the irritation he caused, but it was certainly quiet.

Valentina and Lady Amelia slipped quietly in and out of the room as she played, stopping to listen or offer refreshments. Fiona declined all food or drink, concentrating too much to stop. When she paused, satisfied with the results of the Beethoven, the tall French clock in the corner indicated it was well into the afternoon. There was still work to do refining the Mozart piece.

She heard the low murmur of voices in the foyer. Stretching her fingers, she rose and yawned. It seemed they had visitors. Valentina peeked around the corner, her face glowing.

“Denys is here. Would you care to join us?”

“Of course. You certainly look pleased,” Fiona teased.

Her friend blushed. “Hush, he will hear you. Come, Mama has ordered tea and cake.”

In the front drawing room, Denys Spencer rose from his seat next to Lady Amelia on the silk settee. She loved the understated elegance of Merrick House, with its soft colors and beautifully fashioned furniture. Aunt Muriel had favored bright chintzes and busy patterns in her Dublin townhouse, along with an excess of Wedgewood porcelain.

“Miss Rafferty. How charming you look. That frock is the color of sunshine.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spencer.” She smiled. “Might I indeed call you Denys, or is that a terrible breach of etiquette?”

“If Lady Amelia consents, I’d happy to exchange given names.”

“Denys is family, so at home we relax the rules a bit,” Lady Amelia confided.

“Thank you so much for the roses, Denys,” Valentina smiled. “The scent fills the room. It was so kind to think of me.”

“Wherever did you find roses this time of year?” Fiona asked in amazement.

“I’d like to take more credit, but I know of a wonderful hothouse not far from Bond Street. I thought immediately of you upon seeing them, Valentina. I sent a note this morning to see if I might call, and your mother said you have been indisposed.”