“They’re very inventive, your cousins.”
“I fear I’ve taught them everything they know.”
“Loyal, too,” John said. “I can see they adore you as much as you adore them.”
“I would do anything to make them happy.” She traced a finger over the ivory keys. “I suppose I oughtn’t to play another tune, lest Uncle barge back in here with a full apoplexy this time.”
“Actually,” John said, “I didn’t finish explaining the gift. Your three hours a day are from seven to ten in the morning. Only the tea and coffee rooms are open at that time, so I do hope it isn’t too early.”
Her eyes brightened. “Uncle is abed during those hours, and Dorcas and Portia will be taking their dips in the sea. It’s perfect.”
His chest lightened. “Would you like me to meet you here tomorrow?”
She bit her lip. “I would actually love a moment alone with the piano, if you don’t mind. It’s been too long, and I’ve missed it so. Besides, there’s no practical reason for us to be alone together, if the purpose of our imaginary betrothal is to convince others that we are courting without actually compromising ourselves.”
Ah, yes. Their fake courtship. John should not allow himself to get carried away.
“But,” she added shyly. “I might be found at the promenade later in the day. If you should happen to take your constitutional at around the same time…”
“I shall contrive to do so.” He held out his hand. “May I escort you to your cousins?”
She winced. “I think you’d better. They really do need to be chaperoned. After the stories I’ve filled their heads with, there’s no telling how many gentlemen are in dire need of rescue.”
Chapter 10
The next morning, twice as many flowers arrived at the Townsends’ rented apartment. Half for Portia from her Mr. Mayhew, and half for Dorcas, who now had a suitor of her own.
“The legend is true!” Portia grabbed her sister’s hands and danced her around the parlor. “To find love, one need only spend the night at Siren’s Retreat with an open heart!”
Dorcas tried in vain to extricate herself from the celebratory dance. “I have a skeptical heart. I was positively curmudgeonly to Mr. Voss.”
“Then perhaps your closed heart doesn’t matter half so much as his open mind,” Allegra said with a laugh. “If he likes your curmudgeonliness, what could make a better match than that?”
Dorcas thought this over. “I don’t have to turn myself into Portia to find a husband?”
“Is that what you thought?” Allegra pulled Dorcas from her exuberant sister. “Portia’s best match is ideal because he’s looking for a Portia. Your best match is ideal because he’s looking for a Dorcas. A perfect suitor longs for the woman you are, not who you aren’t.”
Mischievousness sparkled in her cousin’s hazel eyes. “I should unleash full Dorcasness upon him and see if he survives?”
“You’ll see your flowers double,” Portia promised with conviction. “We’re at Siren’s Retreat!”
“Allegra didn’t receive flowers,” Dorcas said.
“Allegra got something better than flowers. Her true love returned across the choppy and dangerous seas to sweep her away at last.”
“She’s still here,” Dorcas pointed out.
“As I wish to be,” Allegra interjected. “I told my darling captain I would not hear of sailing away until both of you are happily betrothed.”
Portia’s expression turned distraught. “You wouldn’t leave us before our weddings, would you?”
“Happily married,” Allegra corrected. “Now, have you everything you need for the bathing machines?”
“Molly must.” Portia reached for the bell pull, only for the maid to sweep into the parlor at just that moment with a large basket in her hands.
“Off you go, then.”
“Are you meeting Captain L’Amour for a torrid rendezvous?” Portia whispered.
“I am meeting the wooden bouquet he gave me.” Allegra wiggled her fingers. “In the form of a glorious pianoforte.”
“You’re right. He is perfect for you.” Dorcas looked at her, impressed. “No doubt he has thought of a way to anchor a piano to the music room on his pirate ship.”
Portia looped her arm through Allegra’s. “Let’s walk down the steps together, so that your good fortune can keep rubbing off on me.”
“And me.” Dorcas took Allegra’s other arm with hope in her hazel eyes.
When they reached the reception area, Allegra bade her charges a fine morning at the bathing machines. Out of habit, she reached for a newspaper on the guest table.
Once her fingers touched the broadsheet, however, she drew her hand back empty. For the first time since realizing she would never have a come-out, the thought of perusing the obituary column did not bring her comfort.
Instead of smug superiority knowing her name would never be listed as the devastated widow left behind after losing her beloved husband, she felt a vague sense of…loss. As if by avoiding tragedy, she might be missing out on something that could bring her joy.
Allegra shook the silly thought from her head. She had lived through unspeakable heartbreak. Grieved for the loss of her parents every day for almost two decades. That was more than enough anguish to prove that no love was worth the pain. Not when she could avoid reliving that agony by remaining a spinster. A happy and independent spinster. With a home of her own, a piano of her own, and two delightful cousins whose future children would reap plenty of spoiling.
“Is everything all right?”
Allegra jerked her gaze up from the pile of newspapers and smiled at the proprietress. “Oh, yes, Mrs. Cartwright, thank you. Everything is perfect.”
The proprietress returned Allegra’s smile. “I am delighted to hear it. If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
“Oh, no, I have everything I… Might I visit the kitchen?”
Mrs. Cartwright blinked. “Servants are welcome to prepare meals for their employers at any time. I’ve never had a guest wish to tour the scullery, but if that is what you wish to do… You can find it down that corridor through the second door on your left.”
Given the patchwork dress Allegra was wearing, she was grateful the proprietress hadn’t assumed Allegra to be the servant sent to cook in the kitchen.
“Just wondering. Thank you.” A glance at the tall case clock indicated it was five minutes to seven. Allegra would have to hurry if she didn’t wish to miss out on a single moment of her allotted time with the rented piano.
When she entered the music room, she shut the door behind her and leaned against it, breathing in the sweet scent of solitude. For the next three hours, this room was hers. Within these walls, she had the complete freedom to play the pianoforte to her heart’s content. No uncle breathing down her neck, no endless list of tasks to toil at, no responsibilities at all until ten o’clock.
A blissful sense of peace filled her as she seated herself before the piano and allowed her fingers to play as they pleased. She became the music. With each note, tension eased from her shoulders until only contentment and tranquility remained.