Part 2 (1/2)
”Mr. Scott and Mr. Pepper.” Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l inclined her head as the two young men acknowledged her presence. She gave them a warm smile, then glanced innocently toward the young women. ”Have you met everyone here? I know at dinner, conversation is sometimes difficult.”
”I believe we have,” Charles answered immediately. ”They are all charming, especially your daughters. Mary and Nellie, I believe?”
”Why, yes,” Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l said, simpering and turning her attention to Christopher. ”Did I mention that Mary is accomplished on the piano? And that Nellie can sing very sweetly?”
”Yes, you did. Several times at dinner,” Christopher said bluntly, ignoring Charles's soft cough. ”I am sure your daughters are very talented,” he amended, catching the sharp look Charles gave him.
”They are that,” Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l said, beaming. ”I suppose you'd like to dance with one of them later. Might I ask which one you favor?”
Seeing the look on Christopher's face, Charles interrupted gallantly. ”How can he possibly choose, Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l? They are both lovely and skillful.”
Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l grinned at him, then gave Christopher a less-than-kind glance. ”I do hope you both plan to come to our reception next week. I know the girls are counting on it.”
”I will attend with the same eagerness that brought me here tonight,” Christopher responded. He saw Charles cough again, hiding his laughter, then his companion agreed.
”We both look forward to it.”
”Humph.” Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l nodded, then stalked away, aware that some devilry was going on, but not quite sure what. As soon as she was out of hearing distance, Charles laughed openly.
”You've got to stop that, Chris. You can't antagonize the mothers and expect to do well with the daughters.”
Christopher frowned. ”I know, but have you met them? Her daughters are enough to drive a man to drink. Such silly, vapid females...isn't there one woman here with some character, one who isn't afraid to have a real thought? My G.o.d, they are like cookie-cutter imitations of women.”
Charles shrugged, glancing toward the crowd. There was some justification for Christopher's remarks. Born to a life of leisure, the debutantes were not the most interesting women he'd ever met either, but for himself, beauty and a nice disposition were enough. It was Christopher who wanted more, and Charles could understand his difficulty.
”May I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen?” Mrs. Drexel clapped her hands and the murmurs of conversation died. ”We've persuaded Miss Chester, one of our lovely guests, to entertain us tonight on the piano while Miss Mitch.e.l.l sings.”
Everyone clapped while Christopher rolled his eyes as if in pain. Charles nudged him as one young lady took a seat at the piano and the other stood before it. The music began softly. Margaret Chester was a decent enough pianist and she managed to get through the first few bars without error. Christopher was just beginning to relax when Nellie Mitch.e.l.l opened her mouth and began to sing, her voice like nails sc.r.a.ping on a chalkboard.
He wanted to cover his ears, but everyone else in the room listened with polite attention as the girl positively screeched. This was even worse than he'd antic.i.p.ated. As always, no one reacted negatively. It was considered the height of bad manners to criticize a young lady's talents. Even Charles was maintaining a polite visage, seemingly oblivious to the girl's tone. When she tried to hit a high note and her voice broke, Christopher winced, unable to hide his reaction. In desperation, he glanced around the room, searching for an exit.
All of the people were smiling politely; all of them clapped softly and encouraged the young girl to perform once more when the torture finally ended. Miss Mitch.e.l.l giggled, then launched into a second song that was equally atrocious. Christopher was about to retreat in disgust when a woman caught his attention. Seated in the center of the room, she clapped a handkerchief to her face, her body silently shaking.
She was laughing.
Intrigued, he watched her. Clad in a yellow silk dress with a bit of demure lace at the wrist and throat, she struggled to hide her chuckles while her eyes danced with hilarity.
Who was she? Christopher grinned at her, well aware of her source of amus.e.m.e.nt. She was next to a dowager, and he saw the elderly woman give her a disapproving look as she discreetly wiped a tear from her face. Raven-haired with a nose that was sprinkled with freckles, she stood out from her blond-haired companions like a rose in a field of daisies, but it was her eyes that captivated him. Br.i.m.m.i.n.g with mischief, they betrayed her, revealing the thoughts that the handkerchief would have hidden. Feeling his gaze on her, she glanced up, and their eyes met and held for one brief second.
He felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. The reaction was instantaneous and bewildering, as potent as the strongest whiskey. Perplexed, he saw the same confusion on her face, replaced a moment later by laughter as Miss Mitch.e.l.l lost another note. Scolded by the elderly woman again, she obediently turned back, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from her.
The music finally died and the a.s.sembly clapped politely. Christopher breathed a sigh of relief as Miss Mitch.e.l.l departed from the piano and the ladies fought among themselves as to who was next.
”Nellie, why don't you-”
”I couldn't possibly.”
”Miss Chandler, aren't you singing?”
”Thank you, but my throat is dry. Why not Miss Pemberton?”
”Yes, Miss Pemberton!”
”No, I couldn't...”
”Nonsense!”
Christopher had been barely paying attention when he noticed that the woman he'd been admiring was being pressured to sing. She caught his grin as she politely tried to decline. When the women insisted, she didn't have a choice and took her place at the piano while the others clapped softly.
She looked uneasy, her black hair s.h.i.+ning in the gaslight, her nose crinkled as she arranged her dress. Settling back against the wall with his drink, Christopher smiled. At last, entertainment. He didn't have the faintest idea as to whether or not Miss Pemberton could sing, but he couldn't wait to find out after her amus.e.m.e.nt at Miss Mitch.e.l.l's expense. She whispered something to Margaret, who gave her an odd look from the piano as she rustled through the sheet music. A few minutes later strains of soft, beautiful music filled the room, and Miss Pemberton's voice with it.
The song was ”Greensleeves.” Christopher recognized it instantly as the young woman sang, her voice hauntingly beautiful and full of emotion. It was an odd choice for a fas.h.i.+onable young lady, but no one seemed to care as the ancient song struck a chord in everyone's heart. Christopher detected the trace of a soft Irish accent in her words; that in itself was strange and he wondered again about Miss Pemberton. Spellbound, the audience listened with rapt attention as she deepened the song, her lilting brogue filling the air with visions of Ireland and its soft green fields, magical mists, and silver lakes. There wasn't a dry eye in the room when she finished, and the applause was thunderous.
”That was lovely, dear,” Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l said, wiping at her eyes. ”I haven't heard that song since I was a little girl. Tell me, though, how did you manage to imitate a brogue so well?”
Katie started to reply, but it was Ella Pemberton who answered.
”Isn't she clever? She has only to hear an accent once and she can imitate it. Fan was always so bright, you know.”
The a.s.sembly crowded around her, begging for another song as Miss Pemberton demurred. Observing her from the end of the room, Christopher turned to Charles, his c.o.c.ky tone completely vanquished.
”Who is she?”
”Miss Pemberton?” Charles looked at him with some surprise. ”You mean you haven't heard?”
”Heard what?”
”About the scandal.” Charles lowered his voice. ”Everyone's talking about it.”
”What scandal?” Christopher glanced at Miss Pemberton once again, more interested than ever.
Charles sighed, then launched into the story with obvious misgivings. ”It seems that Frances Pemberton disappeared years ago. You may have heard your parents mention it-the incident was in all the papers. The official story was that she met with an accident while away on a trip. But it was common knowledge that Fan ran off with a man.”
”I see.” Christopher's eyes narrowed. For some reason, it bothered him to think of her loving a man, both physically and mentally. Ridiculous, he told himself. You haven't even met the chit. Still, he wished he had another brandy.
”Ella Pemberton took her back in recently. No one really knows where she's been or the ident.i.ty of the man. The Missus Chandler are reinstating her into society, giving the story that she has been ill. You know their position; they are one of the first families and the wealthiest. No one dares dispute them.”
”How odd.” Christopher's eyes couldn't leave the woman now. Laughing merrily at one of the men's outrageous compliments, she was obviously having a good time. He had the feeling she always did. ”I wonder what induced them to do that?”
”Probably Mrs. Pemberton,” Charles said. ”They say she is devoted to the girl. The Pembertons have quite a bit of money themselves. If one didn't mind the scandal, the girl could be quite a catch.” He smiled, watching Christopher's expression.
”Charles,” Christopher said with a grin. ”I was thinking the exact same thing.”
He was incredibly handsome. Katie had to tear her eyes away from the man who watched her so covertly from the far side of the room.
He couldn't be interested in her. He was so...urbane, so cultured and sophisticated. He was dressed in a dark suit and a spotless white s.h.i.+rt that brought out the best of his polished black hair and whiskey colored eyes. But it was the amus.e.m.e.nt on his face, the joke that they'd shared, and the flash of longing she could have sworn she'd seen just before she'd turned away that mesmerized her.