Page 52 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
She’d seen him fight more than one man at a time the first time she went to Devil’s Draw. She’d also seen the effects a fight could have on him.
Her cheeks burned at the thought of what happened after she tended to his bruises.
“He does seem like he’d make a good sparring partner,” she added.
“And I have never doubted that you could make a formidable sparring partner, Duchess,” Oliver said, winking.
Alexandra was about to respond, but her train of thought was interrupted by another conversation near them. Her ear caught the name,J. Lewis.
She wondered why there was another issue regarding her pseudonym. She had hoped that people would soon lose interest, but speculation about the composer’s true identity and whereabouts had only grown. It should not be a surprise in Lady Layton’s home.
The woman herself was fueling the gossip, undoubtedly speaking her mind, while her son, the Earl of Layton, stood beside her quietly. He appeared to be disinterested in the gossip and was merely there to indulge his mother.
“Mr. J. Lewis again,” Lady Layton lamented so dramatically that Alexandra wondered how she had not yet asked for her smelling salts. “Why is that man hiding, anyway? People love his music. Why doesn’t he want the recognition?”
“It’s a shame he won’t reveal his identity,” a gentleman about Oliver’s age mused. “He’s a talented composer. He should be able to handle public acclaim. It’s the same with Westback—he’s an excellent painter, yet he refuses to reveal himself to Society.”
“I’ve said it before,” Oliver said. “He does not like theton’sscrutiny, or he’s merely a coward.”
Alexandra, who was holding his arm, could not help but tighten her grip on him. He looked down at her with some amusement, seemingly unaware of her distress.
“Anonymity can provide you with freedom,” she said, her voice sharper than she had intended. “When a composer’s identity is hidden, people listen to the music. They don’t appreciate it because of who the composer is. There are no biases.”
“I know you’re fond of this mysterious composer, my dear wife,” Oliver remarked, raising an eyebrow. “I still want to meet him so I can introduce him to his biggest admirer—you.”
“I simply appreciate art in its barest form without having to know everything about the artist,” she retorted, meeting his gaze.
People were now staring at them curiously. When she noticed it, Alexandra was prepared to step back, but Oliver seemed to be enjoying her reaction.
“It’s almost as if you know Mr. J. Lewis personally,” he playfully whispered in her ear.
“What if I did?” she whispered back, matching his tone but keeping her expression neutral.
Alexandra could feel the crackling tension between them. She knew that he had long begun suspecting something, and she must do something about it.
To direct the attention of the crowd to someone else, Alexandra turned to the young Earl of Layton.
“Lord Layton,” she said suddenly, startling the otherwise stoic man. “Do you enjoy the works of Mr. J. Lewis?”
“Yes, very much so, Your Grace. His compositions have a raw quality that makes them stir the crowd so easily. It’s like he is more interested in the emotions than the technique.”
Alexandra could not breathe. That was one of the first critiques she’d heard about her technique. Everyone else was simply interested in whether Mr. J. Lewis was ready to reveal himself or not. She knew that if people found out that a woman composed the music, they would say,Ah. So that was why.
She knew she wouldn’t like that.
“My son has refined taste. He can play the pianoandthe flute,” Lady Layton declared proudly.
Alexandra felt Oliver stiffen next to her. She recalled how he had wanted to learn to play the piano, too, but he hadn’t because of his father.
He cleared his throat and briefly studied her face. Alexandra knew that he knew what she had tried to do, and he seemed prepared to do the same—at least in public.
“I can see that. Lord Layton might make a fine patron of the arts in the near future,” he said.
The elderly Countess gave them a satisfied smile and launched into an in-depth discussion of her son’s musical achievements. While some in their group had barely covered their yawns, Alexandra was relieved by the distraction.
It was time for her to breathe again. She wanted to be free of Oliver’s probing gaze. The others might not suspect her at all, but her husband had gotten enough clues.
She did not expect the respite to be so short-lived. Oliver would never let her off easily, after all.
