had been satisfied with his steward’s decision, though he had been somewhat surprised at the vagueness with which Bingham had responded to his questions regarding Mr Davlin. It seemed, for example, that Clara’s lessons were not to be held at a fixed time each day, but that they would, out of necessity, fluctuate, given that Mr Davlin had suddenly secured other employment.
When questioned as to the nature of this other employment, however, Bingham had been rather vague, saying that he had not thought to ask. He was, however, quick to assure the Earl that Davlin was both a conscientious and likeable person, and one whom Bingham felt sure would not disappoint them in any way.
Now, as Sebastian made his way up the long, tree-lined drive leading to Buntings Hill, he could not help but wonder at his steward’s peculiar behaviour that morning. It was almost as though he had not wished to discuss the matter. Indeed, when the conversation had ended, Bingham had moved on to the next subject with surprising alacrity.
Still, every man was entitled to his moments, Sebastian conceded. Even the unflappable Paddy Bingham.
Antonia was in the music room when Sebastian arrived to pay his first social call. He was shown into the drawing room upon his arrival, but when he heard the strains of a well-loved sonata, he decided to go in search of the source, suspecting it might be Antonia.
He found her at the instrument soon after, looking absolutely charming in a gown of pale pink muslin, into the bodice of which was tucked a dainty lace fissu. Her gleaming hair was styled in a loose cluster of curls around her face and, as she played, an enchanting smile hovered about her lips.
Sebastian stood in the doorway of the room and silently watched her play. This was no stumbling miss who dutifully learned her music so that she might entertain at musicales. This was a truly gifted young woman who played for the sheer pleasure of making music. Her fingers danced nimbly over the keys, never stumbling once as she played the complicated piece completely from memory. It was not until the sonata came to an end and Antonia’s fingers stilled, that he finally made his presence known. ‘Exceptional, Miss Hadley,’ Sebastian said softly. ‘You do the instrument proud.’
Antonia spun around on the bench and gasped. ‘Lord Carlyle!’ Her cheeks flushed crimson as she quickly got to her feet. ‘My lord, forgive me, I had…no idea that you were standing…just there.’
‘The fault for which is mine entirely,’ Sebastian said smoothly. ‘In truth, I did not wish to disturb you for fear that you would not finish the piece. You play exceedingly well, Miss Hadley.’
‘Th-thank you,’ Antonia said, struggling to regain her composure. ‘It is…kind of you to say so, though I am sure that you have heard…far better from the many accomplished ladies in London.’
‘In point of fact, I have heard none better,’ Sebastian told her. ‘You combine a learned skill with a true love of music. That in itself is a rare combination. You must bring a great deal of pleasure to your family and friends.’
‘She does indeed, Lord Carlyle, though I would warn you not to compliment her too grandly,’ Mr Hadley said upon entering the room. ‘I have told my daughter that too much flattery turns the head.’ He walked across the carpet to stand in front of their visitor, and bowed. ‘We are honoured by your visit, my lord.’
Sebastian inclined his head apologetically. ‘Pray forgive my not remaining in the drawing room to greet you, Mr Hadley. When I heard the music, I felt compelled to go in search of it.’
‘No apology is necessary; it would not be the first time that Antonia has drawn a crowd.’ Mr Hadley’s pride and affection for his daughter was evident. ‘She is a gifted performer, for all her protestations to the contrary.’
Relieved by her father’s arrival, though somewhat embarrassed by his flattery, Antonia moved away from the instrument. ‘Now, Papa, you know that it is you who are guilty of complimenting me too much. You embarrass me when we are in public by insisting that I play far more than I should, thereby preventing the other ladies from exhibiting their own talents.’
‘Had the other ladies any talents which deserved exhibiting, I would be the first to encourage them to do so, my dear,’ Mr Hadley told her with a smile. ‘But I think I speak the truth when I say that I have yet to hear anyone who is more accomplished than you.’
‘I hope I will have the opportunity of adding my compliments to your father’s when we are next at a gathering together, Miss Hadley,’ Sebastian said. ‘I would not wish him to be accused of being your sole devotee.’
He was amused to see that his compliment did nothing to diminish the colour in those lovely cheeks. ‘Perhaps we should…adjourn to the drawing room,’ Antonia said quickly.
Sebastian inclined his head, and stepped aside to allow Antonia to take the lead. He fell into step beside her father and enjoyed an amiable conversation relating to parliamentary matters and affairs of the church. Once in the cheery parlour, however, he kept the topics more general so as to include Antonia in the discussions.
‘Mr Hadley, may I say how very sorry I was to hear about your wife,’ Sebastian said as he sank into the wing chair beside the fireplace. ‘I truly regret that I was not made aware of her passing until my return a few days ago.’
‘It is not to be expected that you would, sir,’ said Mr Hadley. ‘London is a long way from Upper Tipping in more ways than just distance. But I thank you for the sentiments none the less.’
Aware that her father had echoed her own words, though in a much more charitable way, Antonia went to preside over the tea things which the servant had just brought in. ‘Will you have tea, Lord Carlyle, or would you prefer a glass of wine? I believe Papa has a very fine Madeira which you might enjoy.’
‘Thank you, Miss Hadley, but tea will be fine. As you know, I am engaged to dine this evening and I do not think it would do for me to arrive a trifle bosky. I fear I may be feeling that way when I leave, though not as a result of anything I might have had to drink,’ he said ruefully.
Antonia intercepted her father’s quizzical gaze and hastened to explain. ‘Lord Carlyle has been invited to dine with Lady Dalrymple this evening, Papa.’
‘Lady Dalrymple? Well, in that case, perhaps you had best have something stronger,’ Mr Hadley advised. ‘It will no doubt help you get through an evening spent in the company of Lady Dalrymple and her doleful daughters.’
Antonia gasped. ‘Papa, really! Eugenie and Caroline are very…pleasant girls.’
‘Yes, I am sure they are, my dear and, in all fairness, Lady Dalrymple does put on an excellent table. Unfortunately, I suspect that a good deal more than just the roast will be sliced up at her table tonight.’
Lord Carlyle’s quickly smothered cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh, but there was no hint of humour on his face as he cleared his throat and accepted the cup that Antonia held out to him.
‘Papa, did you not caution me just the other day to be mindful of what I said about others?’ she reminded him.
‘Yes, my dear, I did. And perhaps by informing Lord Carlyle of Lady Dalrymple’s propensity towards gossip, I am guilty of telling tales out of school,’ Mr Hadley admitted. ‘But you know as well as I do that before the end of the evening, she will have methodically cut up every person she knows—and even a few that she doesn’t.’
‘Well, yes I know, but it is not the thing to—’
