Chapter Nine
Victoria corrected Kade’s fingering on the keys of the Broadwood grand piano. “Try that. And perhaps it might help to slow down while you’re starting out, since it’s such a challenging piece.”
The boy gave her a comical grimace. “My music teacher in Glasgow used to tell me that I always pushed too hard when starting a new piece of music. He said I needed to learn patience if I truly wished to excel.”
She smiled. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve always thought patience is overrated. I don’t think there’s anything wrong in tackling something head-on and with enthusiasm.”
Victoria invariably approached a new composition, especially something as technically complex as Beethoven’s Sonata Twenty-one, with a sense of excitement that made her forget everything but mastering the challenge.
“I won’t tell Nick you said that,” Kade said with a chuckle. “He’d be shocked to hear my governess encouraging me to rebel against one of the cardinal virtues.”
She leaned closer on the padded piano bench, as if sharing a confidence. “We’ll make it our little secret, shall we? We can be rebels together.”
The shy pleasure in his smile warmed her more than the roaring fire in the hearth.
“I’m so glad you came all this way to teach me,” he said, returning his attention to the music stacked on top of the piano. “I hate that Nick worries about me. But he seems to feel better knowing I’ve got you to look after me. Not that I truly need anyone to look after me,” he hastily added. “I’m not a baby.”
“Indeed no,” she said gravely. “In fact, I believe I spot a few gray hairs sprouting on the top of your head.”
Kade snickered.
In truth, he was little more than a boy, and a very sensitive one at that. Every time she thought about the trauma he’d suffered she wanted to cry or rage at the heavens. She could hardly imagine that anyone could inflict so much harm on a child, though that was a foolishly naïve view of the world. Her own experience had taught her that cruelty lurked everywhere, even among the highest ranks of society. Victoria could almost believe that wealthy, powerful men like Thomas Fletcher were the worst, because they often used their privilege to abuse others.
As Kade began again, his fingers dancing over the keys, she fetched an Argand lamp from the sideboard and carefully placed it on the piano.
They were in the private family drawing room, waiting for the others to come upstairs after dinner. Since dusk came so early to the Highlands at this time of year, the Kendricks kept sensible—if unfashionable—country hours. She and Kade had already gotten into the habit of excusing themselves before the sweets course, going upstairs to spend time at the piano before the tea tray arrived and the brothers joined them.
She’d taken up the position of tutor with a sort of grim determination, unable to turn her back on Kade after listening to Braden’s horrific tale. She would have done it for the boy’s sake, of course, but there was another element that had caught her by surprise—her inability to say no to Arnprior. He’d clearly been devastated by Kade’s plight, his grief and fury all but shimmering around him like a dark halo. He’d controlled his reaction with admirable discipline, but Victoria wasn’t fooled. That he blamed himself for what happened to Kade was obvious. That he felt rather helpless in managing the situation was apparent, too.
So, when he’d quietly asked her to stay, she’d said yes. She wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if she’d turned her back on the Kendrick family when there was even a remote chance she could help. Not even if it meant spending the winter holed up in a drafty, remote castle with what must be the most stubborn group of men in Scotland.
True to his word, however, the earl had somehow managed to bring his brothers under a semblance of control. It had been almost two weeks since she’d accepted the position, and Alec had departed for Glasgow with Braden. In that time, the twins had stopped bedeviling her, Royal had ceased being entirely surly, and even Mr. MacDonald had mostly pulled in his horns.
It helped that everyone at Kinglas was devoted to Kade, so when the earl decreed that Victoria was vital to achieving the mission of restoring the boy’s health—even if she was a woman and a Sassenach—the family was forced, however reluctantly, to fall into line.
Kade’s fingers stumbled when he launched into the final bars of the rondo.
“Pianissimo,” she murmured. “This section is more delicate, almost like dance music.” She reached in front of him and played a few notes with her left hand to illustrate.
“Oh, I see. Then I build to a rush at the end, is that right?”
She smiled. “Exactly. Try it again.”
This time, he got it. Victoria watched in admiration as his fingers flew over the keyboard, easily managing the rapid scales of the left hand, offset by the trills of the right. It was a composition that defeated performers with more experience, yet Kade dashed through the notes, throwing his soul into the performance.
When he ended with a triumphant flourish, she enthusiastically applauded. “That was splendid, Kade. You’ll have the entire piece down in no time.”
He swiveled to face her, joy shining in blue eyes that were almost a mirror image of the earl’s. Whenever Kade sat down to the piano or practiced his violin, he seemed to forget his troubles. He was beginning to heal from his trauma, making steady progress every day.
Teaching Kade, knowing that she was truly helping him, had brought Victoria a peace of mind and a sense of purpose that had been missing since that awful night at Welgate Manor.
“Thank you,” he said. “I love Beethoven, and this piece is particularly wonderful. Wouldn’t it be grand to be able to write something so beautiful? I wish I could.”
“Have you ever tried composing?”
A little crease appeared between his eyebrows. “I suppose I never really thought to do so. Besides, I’m not that talented.”
“You never know until you try.”
“Have you ever written music?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yes, and I am definitely not talented in that regard. The results were appalling.” One of her music teachers at school had delivered that message, although Victoria’s ears had already told her the same. “My destiny is to be a teacher.”
“But you’re an awfully good musician.”
“Not as good as you.” She thought for a moment about what she wanted to tell him. It had to be in a way that didn’t embarrass him or indicate that she knew his deepest secrets. “The greatest composers are more than just technically proficient. They also feel great emotion, and see the world with a sensitivity and perception most of us lack. They can draw on the experiences of their lives—good or bad—and translate their feelings into music in a way that truly touches their listeners. You already bring that sort of emotion to your playing. It’s something similar with composing, if that makes sense to you.”
“I think I understand,” he said softly. “It’s almost like explaining without having to talk about it.”
“Exactly. Some of the best composers did not lead easy lives. But they used their pain, sorrows, and joys to bring their music to life . . . to make it sing.” She patted his shoulder. “I believe you have that kind of sensitivity, Kade. I’d bet you a bob you could write something lovely if you put your mind to it.”
“You really think so?” he asked with a touching eagerness.
“I do, but only if you wish to. There’s no need to push.” She had the sense, though, that immersing himself even more deeply in his music would help.
“It might be fun,” he said. “If you don’t mind that I spend a little more time on that instead of practicing.”
“Not at all. And I am happy to assist in any way I can.”
He surprised her by throwing his arms around her neck. When he pulled back from the hug, his eyes were shining with boyish happiness. “Thank you, Miss Knight. Have I told you lately how splendid you are?”
It took her a moment to be able to control her voice. “I believe you have, sir, and I am most grateful for your approval.”
“It’s jolly to have a lady around the house again,” he said as he turned back to the keyboard and began practicing trills. “Although Taffy is wonderful, of course. It’s not that I don’t appreciate my brothers and my grandfather, but they can be a bit . . .”
“Rambunctious and argumentative?” she finished in a droll tone.
“Yes, and they’re not really interested in my music. Nick tries, of course, but he’s usually too busy to listen. I’m so happy he’s home, though. I missed him terribly during the war.”
“I’m sure you did.”
His hands stilled. “He raised me, you know. My mother died when I was born, and I barely remember my father, since he died when I was three. Nick had to pick up the slack.” He flashed her an uncertain smile. “What a burden we are for him.”
“I doubt he feels that way,” she said. “But I am sorry you never knew your mother.”
“Thank you. Janet was very kind to me, though. She was also musical, and played the harp for me whenever she stayed at Kinglas. I liked that a lot.”
Victoria had never heard anyone at the castle mention that name. “Who is Janet?”
He shot her a startled glance. “She was Nick’s wife. Didn’t you know he’d been married?”
Her brain seemed to trip over itself. “Ah, no, actually.”
Kade suddenly looked uncomfortable. “It was quite a long time ago. I was only about seven when she died. Nick doesn’t like to talk about it, so we generally don’t mention her.”
That was an understatement, since she’d heard not one reference to Arnprior’s wife or his widowed state. In fact, she’d seen no evidence of the lady’s existence at all.
Kade plunked one of the minor keys, playing a sad little note. “I still miss her.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It’s sad when someone we love passes away.”
“She fell ill very suddenly. Nick was quite broken up about it.”
Losing his wife at such a young age? No wonder the earl was so somber a man. “I can imagine.”
“Still, it wasn’t as bad as what happened to—” Kade broke off, rolling his lips into a tight line.
“Happened to?” she prompted.
He flashed her a smile that was more like a grimace. “Never mind. I really shouldn’t be airing the family’s dirty clouts, as Grandda says. Nick wouldn’t like me gossiping, either.”
Victoria had to squelch an unseemly curiosity. The Kendrick family past was none of her business. “Quite right too, young man. Gossiping with your governess—how shocking. Everyone would think we’re terribly vulgar.”
His brow cleared. “Gosh, that sounds rather fun. Perhaps we—”
He broke off when the door to the drawing room opened. When Arnprior entered, Victoria felt her cheeks grow hot.
“You two appear to be up to some sort of mischief,” the earl said, strolling over to join them. “What are you talking about?”
She and Kade exchanged sheepish glances. “Nothing,” they chorused.
“From your guilty expressions, I suspect such is not the case,” he replied in a sardonic tone.
“We’ve been discussing music, my lord,” Victoria said. The last thing she’d want him to know was that they’d been talking about his wife. Her employer was a reserved, private man, and if he didn’t wish to discuss his late wife—or even acknowledge her existence—then it behooved her to respect that.
Kade gave his brother a beatific smile. “That’s right. We’ve been discussing Beethoven.”
Arnprior propped his hands on his kilted hips—his tall, lean form looked wonderful in the traditional garb—and blew out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m going to have to keep an eye on the pair of you. I have the distinct impression you are not to be trusted.”
Kade let out a gleeful chuckle. “Yes, it’s fun to finally have a partner in crime.”
“You’re as bad as the twins,” Arnprior said.
“Worse,” Kade said.
The earl laughed, his handsome face lighting with rare amusement. Heavens, the man was devastating when he smiled like that, especially when that smile was directed at her. Victoria was all but ready to melt into a puddle at his booted feet.
It was a ridiculous thought. She was not the sort of woman to melt at any man’s feet.
Arnprior was about to reply when the rest of the Kendricks strolled in, followed by a footman and Mrs. Taffy with the tea service. The earl gave Victoria a nod and headed to the mahogany writing desk in the corner. He spent most evenings at that desk, attending to his correspondence while she and Kade practiced the piano or chatted with the twins over tea. Royal occasionally joined them, although he wasn’t much of a conversationalist.
Tonight, however, Angus had also stomped in behind his grandsons, two of his beloved Skye terriers trotting in his wake. The old man gave Victoria a scowl before flopping into one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, making his continued low opinion of her abundantly clear.
She swallowed a sigh. Although the old fellow had ceased his campaign of outright hostilities, he was still unhappy with her presence. Why remained something of a mystery, since Victoria was not, as he’d put it, trying to turn his grandsons into spoiled dandies. She’d finally decided he had a general dislike of English persons, and that it was best to ignore him whenever possible.
“Hullo, Grandda,” Kade said, waving to him. The lad revered the old curmudgeon, and went out of his way to please him. Some days, she couldn’t imagine how such a nice boy like Kade had survived in the tough world of the Kendrick men.
“Laddie, ye just had dinner with me,” his grandfather said.
“I know, but you rarely join us for tea, so I’m happy to see you.”
One corner of Angus’s mouth twitched. She supposed even he couldn’t resist Kade’s artless charm. “Maybe I fancy a bit of music tonight,” he said.
“Miss Knight and I have been practicing a Beethoven sonata,” Kade said. “Would you like to hear that?”
The old man scoffed. “Now, why would I want to hear some frippery music by a foreigner? A good reel is what I have a mind for.”
Taffy, who’d been arranging the tea things on the low table in front of the chaise, slowly straightened up and turned a gimlet eye on Angus. When he flushed a dull red, Victoria wasn’t surprised. If there was one person with the ability to shame Angus MacDonald, it was Mrs. Taffy. They had what could only be called an interesting relationship, although Victoria had no desire to know the particulars.
“Angus, let the boy play what he wants,” the earl said over his shoulder. “Beethoven sounds like a prime choice, Kade. I’d like to hear it.”
“I must say, I rather agree with Grandda,” Graeme said, reaching for a macaroon from the tiered plate of pastries. When Taffy slapped his hand, he yanked it back as if he’d been burned.
“Ye’ll want to be waiting now for a moment,” she said in a reproving tone. “After the earl and yer grandfather have been served their cups.”
“And you will listen to whatever Kade plays,” the earl said, pinning Graeme with a stern look.
“But—”
Grant elbowed his twin in the ribs. “Shut it, Graeme.” Then he smiled at Kade. “Play whatever you want, laddie. We’ll enjoy it either way.”
Kade gave his brother a rueful grin. “It’s all right. I like the old reels, too.”
“Right. I’ll fetch my bagpipes to play with ye,” Angus said, hauling himself from his chair.
“No!” the twins yelled. In fact, all the men appeared disconcerted.
The old man regarded his grandsons reproachfully. “But ye all love the pipes.”
“Not the way you play them,” Royal said ruthlessly.
“You heard him the first night you stayed here,” Grant said to Victoria, as if she could possibly forget.
“Oh,” she said. “I thought he was trying to be . . .”
Grant morosely shook his head.
“I see.” She couldn’t help giving the old man a sympathetic glance, since he looked so disappointed. “It wasn’t that bad. In fact, it was quite . . . stirring.”
Everyone stared at her like she’d gone mad.
Angus eyed her suspiciously, but then affected a casual shrug. “Well, get on with it, then,” he said brusquely, waving at Kade.
“Why don’t you play ‘Shean Truibhais,’” Royal suggested, his brogue curling around the Gaelic name. He’d wandered over to the window that overlooked the back lawn, where he’d recommenced his brooding. As far as Victoria could tell, that was mostly what Royal did with his time when he wasn’t picking a fight with the earl.
“That’s Gaelic for Torn Trousers,” Kade explained to her. “The reel is about how the kilt was outlawed after Culloden. The Highlanders were forced to wear trousers, so they wanted to tear them or kick them off.”
“Bloody bastard Englishmen,” Angus muttered.
“My, that sounds like an exciting dance,” Victoria said. She rose from the piano bench. “I’ll bring you a cup of tea and a scone when you’re finished.”
Kade nodded absently, shuffling through his sheet music. She would have to make him stop to eat, since the boy rarely thought about food unless someone reminded him.
As Kade played the lively reel, she poured out the tea, handing the cups to Grant to distribute. Grant was a very nice young man, she’d been pleased to discover, when Graeme wasn’t leading him astray. Mrs. Taffy heaped up plates of biscuits and scones for the men, and then excused herself.
When Kade finished with a flourish, everyone clapped—except for Angus, who at least did nod his approval. Even the dogs barked enthusiastically, which necessitated a tart reprimand from their master.
The Kendrick family drawing room wasn’t the most genteel of environments, and the men—and the dogs—could certainly be a handful. But the fact that no one was assaulting her or accusing her of murder was a distinct advantage. She was beginning to think that, with a little luck, she might make it through the winter unscathed. According to the most recent letter from Dominic, neither Lady Welgate nor her father had yet to take any action against her, and he didn’t expect them to. If all remained quiet, she should be able to return to London sometime in the summer and begin to plan the opening of her girls’ seminary.
She simply had to survive a winter and spring in Scotland with Lord Arnprior and his brothers first.
Graeme shoveled in another scone. “I do think . . .” he began around the enormous mouthful.
When Victoria pointedly raised her eyebrows, he grimaced, but chewed and swallowed before speaking again. She was not formally giving the twins lessons in deportment, but she couldn’t refrain from the occasional quiet correction. Fortunately, looking aghast usually did the trick.
“As I was saying,” Graeme said after he’d swallowed, “I still think it would be splendid if we could learn how to waltz, instead of just doing reels and country dances.”
“If only we could learn how to waltz in time for Sir Duncan MacLeish’s holiday ball,” Grant said. He gazed dolefully at Victoria, as if he were a puppy who’d been kicked. Graeme adopted a similar expression, even going so far as to push out his lower lip.
Victoria was hard-pressed not to laugh, or to scold them for thinking she was foolish enough to fall for their blatant machinations. Yes, she might be willing to give them a little guidance now and then, but she was not a dancing teacher.
“Och, ye don’t need to be swirlin’ about like acrobats to catch the eyes of the lassies,” Angus said. “There’s nothing more manly and athletic than a good reel to attract a girl’s notice. Even better, a sword dance.”
“I doubt there will be any sword dances at Sir Duncan’s affair,” Royal said. He’d finally eased into a chair by the window, favoring his bad leg.
“I’d love to see a sword dance someday,” Victoria said brightly, hoping to divert attention away from Graeme’s unwelcome request.
Grant perked up. “We’d be happy to show you.”
“And then you can show us how to waltz,” Graeme added triumphantly.
Argh. She’d walked right into that one.
Grant jumped from his chair. “I’ll just fetch some swords off the wall in the entrance hall.”
Arnprior glanced up from his correspondence. “There will be absolutely no sword dancing in the house. I’ve told you that a hundred times.”
“But, Nick—” Graeme started.
“No,” the earl said firmly. He looked at Victoria. “It never ends well, and we have the broken furniture to prove it.”
She tried not to look too relieved, although she was tempted to laugh at the mental image of the twins demolishing the sitting room. “I completely understand. Perhaps they can show me out in the courtyard, when the weather is more amenable.”
When the twins groaned their dissatisfaction, their brother was unmoved. “You’ll just have to be satisfied with the standard country dances, which I’m sure you can manage. Besides, Sir Duncan is an old-fashioned sort, and I doubt he will allow the waltz at any of his gatherings.”
“Too scandalous for the Highlands, my lord?” Victoria asked with a smile as she carried over the pot to replenish his teacup. She could almost kiss him for coming to her rescue.
Almost?
“We’re a little backwards up here, if you haven’t noticed,” he said, giving her a wry smile as he held up his cup.
She affected shock to cover for the fact that she was feeling flustered by the notion of kissing him. “Truly? Why, I hadn’t noticed that at all.”
A derisive snort from Angus told her what he thought of their playful exchange. Perhaps he thought she was flirting with his grandson, which she most decidedly was not. She was simply being . . . pleasant.
“Actually, the joke’s on you, Nick,” Graeme said. “They are going to be playing the waltz. Lady MacLeish is bringing in an orchestra from Glasgow to play all the latest music.”
The earl set his cup down on the desk and gave the twins his full attention. “Really?”
Grant nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, really. We have it on good authority.”
Arnprior stood and followed Victoria back to the tea table. Somehow, he managed to make the little stroll appear intimidating, or at least the twins seemed to think so. By the time he was looming over them, they looked nervous.
“And who is this good authority?” the earl asked. “Not someone you ran into off the estate, I hope.”
Graeme flushed a bright red, while Grant went in the opposite direction, going rather pale.
On their brother’s order, the twins had been confined to the estate for the last several days as a result of some incident that was apparently too shocking to discuss in front of a lady. Whatever it was, Victoria had the sense that those sorts of events happened on a regular basis.
“It was Mr. Allen who told the lads,” Angus said from his corner by the fire. “They rode with me on my rounds of the tenant farms yesterday, and we stopped to have a wee dram with him. His wife heard it from Lady MacLeish herself.”
The earl stared hard at his grandfather, who puffed away at his short-stemmed pipe with the easy assurance of either a man with a clear conscience or a born liar.
“That’s right,” Graeme said. “It was Mr. Allen who told us.” He elbowed his twin. “Right?”
Grant bobbed his head like a nervous pigeon. “That’s it exactly.”
Arnprior studied them with disfavor. “I suppose I should be happy you’re taking an interest in the workings of the estate,” he finally said.
Angus removed his pipe from his mouth. “Of course ye should. It’s what ye want, isn’t it?”
“If it were true, I’d be delirious with joy,” Arnprior replied.
“It’s absolutely true,” Graeme said, gazing earnestly at his big brother.
Arnprior stared down at him for a moment longer and then shrugged. “Good for you, lads. I’m sure your grandfather appreciates the help.”
When he bent down to retrieve a biscuit, Victoria found herself admiring his lean hips and well-shaped backside, lovingly outlined by the draped fabric of the kilt. Not that she could help admiring those attributes, as impolite as that might seem, since he was standing right in front of her—at eye level, too. And although she’d never been a particular fan of the Highland costume, after seeing the earl in a kilt more than once this week, she’d decided the style was growing on her.
He straightened up. “Well, what’s it to be, Miss Knight? Are you agreeable?”
She jerked her gaze upward to take in his amused expression. Good God. When had he noticed she was furtively inspecting his backside? Even worse, he obviously found it amusing to catch her in the act.
She, however, did not.
“Am I agreeable to what, my lord?” she asked, trying to adopt her most dignified manner. It was a challenge, since her face seemed to be going up in flames.
His eyebrows arched. “Why, teaching my brothers to waltz, of course. And since I already know the steps of that particular dance, I will be more than happy to lend you assistance.”
“Do say yes, Miss Knight,” Graeme said. “It would be the greatest thing, ever.”
“Ever,” Grant echoed with enthusiastic emphasis.
“Miss Knight, I beg you to do it,” Royal added. “Or else these two idiots will pester us until we lose our minds.”
She met the earl’s sardonic gaze, resisting the unholy desire to stick her tongue out at him—or kick him in the shins—for manipulating her so adroitly.
He’d backed her right into the position he’d chosen for her all along—and done it in front of his entire family, no less. Now he was daring her to refuse.