Gail Whitiker - No Place For An Angel

‘Which I am sure they do,’ Valbourg remarked. ‘But if Mary’s servants work hard it will be because they like and respect her, not because they are afraid of her. As for her new role, I have no doubt she will make Tyne an excellent wife.’

‘Of course I will,’ Mary said, stung by her sister’s criticism. ‘I love him and he loves me.’

‘Love,’ Dorothy said with a sneer. ‘A highly overrated emotion that serves as no useful foundation for marriage whatsoever. You would have been better off accepting Lord Troon’s proposal.’

‘Troon? The man is sixty if he’s a day,’ Mary said, incredulous. ‘And he is not at all handsome.’

‘Handsome? Of what value are looks when in twenty years’ time they will have vanished, leaving you shackled to a man with whom you likely have nothing in common and with no financial recompense to salve your wounds for being so silly as to accept his proposal in the first place. At least Troon is a worthy catch. He is heir to a dukedom.’

Mary blinked at the harshness of her sister’s reply, but Valbourg simply smiled. ‘I shouldn’t worry about it, Mary. Tyne may not be as wealthy as Troon, but I suspect his looks will last far longer so that even in thirty years’ time, you will have no reason to regret your decision to marry him.’

‘Oh, yes, be sarcastic if you like, but people would do a lot better if they made decisions based on logic rather than emotion,’ Dorothy said. ‘Speaking of which, when do you intend to do your duty and settle down, Brother? You are past thirty now and responsible for the welfare of a young boy. No doubt you would both benefit from the influence of a sensible woman in your lives.’

‘Is that a criticism of the way I am raising Sebastian?’ Valbourg enquired, unwilling to let the remark pass.

‘Not at all. Much to my surprise, you have cast off your dissolute ways and emerged a surprisingly respectable man,’ Dorothy said. ‘But it is past time you gave some serious thought to settling down. You are Papa’s heir, after all.’

Valbourg’s sarcastic rejoinder was lost in the burst of applause that greeted Catherine as she finished her song. He looked up in time to see her execute a graceful curtsy, and though her face was lightly flushed and her blue eyes still sparkled, he could see how weary she was. And why not? It was nearly three in the morning and she had already performed her required six songs as well as three encores. It was time to pay the girl and send her home.

‘Come, Mary,’ Valbourg said. ‘If you wish to meet Miss Jones, now would be the time.’

‘Meet her?’ Dorothy’s pencil-thin eyebrows rose. ‘Why on earth would you wish to meet her?’

‘Because she was kind enough to come here and sing for our guests,’ Mary said.

‘Are you not paying Miss Jones for her time, Valbourg?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then let that be an end of it. One must be careful around women like that, Mary,’ Dorothy warned. ‘Flattery goes to their heads. Gives them airs. Worse, Miss Jones may think Valbourg is interested in her and he certainly doesn’t need that kind of complication in his life. No, tell Harrison to give the girl her money and send her on her way. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall go and have a word with Papa. See if I can talk some sense into him before the Irishman robs him blind.’

With a curt nod, Dorothy left, taupe-coloured feathers bending in the breeze.

Mary leaned over and whispered in Valbourg’s ear, ‘Is it truly awful to admit that one doesn’t care much for one’s sister?’

‘Not as awful as it is honest.’

‘It doesn’t seem very charitable.’

‘Honesty seldom is,’ Valbourg said in a wry tone. ‘Come, let us speak to Miss Jones while the Dragon is otherwise engaged.’

* * *

They lined up to speak to her. Knights and their ladies, barons and their baronesses, even a viscount and his viscountess—all took a moment to express their admiration of her voice. Only one crusty old earl and his equally crusty countess left without acknowledging her, but Catherine took the snub in her stride. The majority of guests had been kind enough to speak with her, rendering unimportant the few who were not.

The gentlemen, of course, suffered no such inhibitions. Anxious to convey their compliments, they all rushed forward, asking if they might fetch a plate of refreshments or assist her to a chair. Catherine accepted Mr Brinkley’s offer of a glass of wine and Lord Styles’s insistence on a small plate of food, but the other offers she kindly but firmly refused. All she wanted to do now was go home. She had enjoyed performing for Lady Mary, but the euphoria was wearing off and it was only a matter of time before weariness rushed in to take its place. She wanted to be home in her own bed before that happened. She had to be up again in a few hours.

Suddenly, a path opened and Lord Valbourg, Lady Mary Nelson and her fiancé, Lord Tyne, approached. Valbourg and his sister made a striking pair, Catherine noted. Both so beautiful and blessed with all the good things life had to offer. Oblivious to the darker, more insidious side of human nature—

‘Miss Jones, I cannot thank you enough for coming to sing for us tonight,’ Lady Mary said, taking both of Catherine’s hands in hers. ‘I see why they call you the Angel of London, for truly God’s own choir could not contain a more divine voice.’

‘Thank you, my lady,’ Catherine said, genuinely touched by the woman’s charity. ‘It was a pleasure to sing for you and Lord Tyne, and I am so glad you enjoyed it.’

‘We did. My brother, too,’ Lady Mary said, reaching for Valbourg’s arm. ‘“The True Lover’s Farewell” is one of our family’s favourites. Mama used to sing it to my sister and I before we went to bed.’

‘I’m so pleased. Is your sister here?’ Catherine asked, glancing around the room for a younger version of Lady Mary. ‘I don’t believe we have been introduced.’

She turned back in time to catch the look that passed between brother and sister and wondered if she had said something wrong. Seconds later, she realised she had when Valbourg said, ‘Sadly, my sister is no longer with us. She passed away two years ago.’

Catherine’s eyes widened in dismay. So, all was not blissful in the house of Alderbury. Tragedy had touched this golden family, stealing one of their own and leaving an empty place in their hearts. ‘I am so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I would not have performed the song, had I known.’

‘But you did not and therefore owe us no apology,’ Valbourg said. ‘I doubt there is a song in the world that doesn’t evoke poignant memories for someone.’

That might be true, but it did not take away from the fact that she had been the one to bring those painful memories back, Catherine thought regretfully. She might not know Valbourg well, but she sensed he was a man who betrayed little of his feelings, yet felt them keenly, especially when it came to his family.

‘Will you take some refreshment, Miss Jones?’ Lady Mary asked, forcing a cheery note into her voice. ‘Valbourg told me you came here straight from your performance at the Gryphon.’

‘Thank you, but I’m really not hungry,’ Catherine replied. ‘Lord Styles has gone to fetch a plate, but at the risk of sounding rude, I would rather go home. It is late and I have an early rehearsal in the morning.’

‘Of course. How selfish of us to keep you here talking. Val, have arrangements been made for Miss Jones’s transportation?’

‘Indeed. I shall go and see to the carriage now.’

‘Oh, please don’t bother,’ Catherine said quickly. ‘As I said before, I am quite capable of travelling around London on my own.’

‘And as I said earlier, that will not be necessary. It is late and you have been kind enough to perform at my sister’s betrothal celebration,’ Valbourg said. ‘I suspect Theo Templeton would have something to say if I did not take the very best care of you.’