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Nicholas glared at him. “You are not a talking fool, are you?”
“No, Your Grace, but I was most impressed by your performance. We all were.”
“Go.”
“Will you be requiring a cold bath tonight?”
“No.”
Ramsay bowed and exited the room. If Jenny found out that his coughing fit had been a lie, she would make him regret ever touching her rocks.
* * *
"How glad I am you could come tonight," Jenny hugged her friend in the front vestibule. "And forgive me for the late invitation."
“You know I cannot ignore your invitation. Besides, I have everything to gain by coming tonight.” She leaned in to whisper, her eyes glittering in the candlelight, “Mr. Brighton is here.”
Jenny had mentioned in her note that Ernest would be there even though she had not been certain that he would be. She knew of Daphne’s inclination and intended to encourage them.
“The gentlemen are in the drawing room,” Jenny said. “Come.”
They had barely taken a step in the direction of the drawing room when the double doors opened again and the dowager walked in, the metal tip of her cane clicking against the marble floor.
"Thank you for the invitation, Jennifer," she said with a twist of her mouth and a quirk of a brow eyeing Daphne as Bentley collected her coat. "How very thoughtful of you, my dear."
"You are welcome, Your Grace," Jenny responded courteously, returning her sarcasm. She was slightly displeased by her turning up uninvited but she pinned a tight smile onto her face and held the dowager’s gaze, unwavering. Daphne dipped into a perfunctory curtsy then, her curious gaze traveling between the cold exchange.
"I told you I am watching." The dowager followed that statement with a click of her cane against the floor before preceding them into the drawing room.
Nicholas, whose countenance had been that one of mild amusement, tensed when the dowager walked in and that countenance darkened. “What a pleasant evening we are going to have,” the dowager announced and lowered herself into a chair. “Fetch me something to drink, Ernest.”
"You invited her?" Nicholas whispered to Jenny when he reached her side.
She was about to respond in the negative when she remembered what he had made her endure all week. Perhaps it would bring her some satisfaction if she could get back at him for ignoring her. Watching him struggle to tolerate the dowager’s unwanted presence for an evening would be most delightful, indeed.
"Yes,” she responded cheerily, satisfaction washing over her. "Now smile and try to be present for this dinner, at least. We have guests."
He groaned and she almost laughed. Daphne ran a hand over the polished pianoforte, inciting Ernest, who had been watching her since exchanging greetings that evening, to ask, "Do you play, Miss Bexley?"
"With the right incentive, yes." She cast her gaze down demurely. "I could even sing."
“I do not need my hearing ruined, thank you very much,” the dowager interjected from her seat.
"If it will keep you quiet and get you out of people's business," Nicholas turned to his grandmother, "then, by all means, Miss Bexley, entertain us." He grinned at Daphne. "On second thought," he whispered to Jenny again, “I don’t think the evening is going to be all that bad."
"How about this, Miss Bexley," Ernest began, “I play and you sing. That way, there will be no debts."
“Agreed, Mr. Brighton.”
He sat at the pianoforte while she stood next to him. Ernest played well and Daphne’s voice was divine. “I had not the slightest inkling she could sing so well,” Nicholas murmured, glancing at his grandmother who appeared to be pleased by the music.
“Is that disappointment I hear in your voice, Nicholas?”
“Maybe. She seems too pleased with their performance.”
Jenny touched his arm. “The next time you count on punishing her with music, be sure the performers are without talent.”
“You should be on my side, Jenny.”
