Page 23 of To Pleasure a Prince
As Louisa began to clap, a smattering of lackluster applause echoed around them. Lord Draker muttered, “Damn the foolish girl.”
Regina cast him a sidelong glance. “Don’t you dare disappoint her.”
He glared at her. “Damn you both.” But he rose and strode to the front.
Regina settled back in her chair, curious to see if Lord Draker’s “talent” was genuine or the result of a doting sister’s fond imagination. As the song began and a rich baritone sounded in the room, Regina smiled to herself. Well, well, did wonders never cease? The dragon could actually sing.
It was very clever of Louisa to use that on his behalf. How better to soften the guests toward him than to illustrate Lord Draker’s talents?
The young woman had picked a fine song for him, too—“The Last Rose of Summer.” The rumble that made his speaking voice a menacing growl lent his singing voice the proper depth for the plaintive tune, and his somber countenance seemed perfectly appropriate for the sad lyrics about death and old age.
Clearly the audience appreciated the performance; they were rapt with attention. Even Regina, who considered herself something of a connoisseur of fine singing, was moved, especially when his voice swooped low, vibrating through her blood, reminding her of how he gazed at her sometimes.
As he was gazing at her now. Her breath caught in her throat. When he sang of reflecting “back her blushes,” she felt a fresh blush rise in her cheeks. And when he finished with the mournful line, “Oh! who would inhabit this bleak world alone!” she wanted to leap up to assuage his loneliness.
Sweet heaven, what a performance! Nor was she the only one affected. As the last notes died, the audience held their breath one aching moment before breaking into enthusiastic applause.
To her delight, Lord Draker actually looked flummoxed by their response. Murmuring a gruff thank-you, he started to return to his seat.
But his beaming sister stayed him. “Don’t go yet. You must sing another.”
He shook his head. “No one wants to hear me again, angel, but perhaps one of the other ladies will oblige you.” His gaze swung to Regina. “Lady Regina might be willing to grace us with a song.”
As a burst of applause sounded around Regina, she could only stare at Lord Draker with her heart fluttering. Did he truly want to hear her sing, or was he just choosing this way out of another performance?
“Yes,” Louisa prodded. “Lady Regina must sing.”
The growing applause made it impossible for her to refuse, as did the burning look his lordship leveled on her.
As she rose to walk toward the front, Louisa added, “But the two of you must sing a duet. Oh, do sing ‘Tho’ You Think By This to Vex Me.’ Lady Regina has just the right voice for it, and it’s my favorite.”
Regina faltered. She knew most of the standard pieces by heart, but the song Louisa wanted had over twenty-five lines that Regina hadn’t memorized. And Lord knew she couldn’t read them.
She continued toward the front more slowly. “No, not that one, Louisa, if you please. What about ‘Chastity, Thou Cherub Bright’?”
Louisa looked at her oddly. “But that’s not a duet.”
“Right. Then perhaps…er…how about…” Why couldn’t she think of a single duet she knew by heart?
“Is it my sister’s song choice you object to?” Lord Draker asked coldly as she frantically searched her blank mind. “Or her choice of partner for you?”
A stillness fell over the audience, fraught with tension. Regina’s panic increased. “It’s not…I mean…I merely don’t—”
“So it’s both.” He added in a sneering aside to the crowd, “La Belle Dame would never sing a duet, because that would require sharing the center of attention. And God forbid she should share it with a man, especially one who—”
“Lord Draker, an urgent message has come for you,” called a voice from the back. Everyone turned to see Lady Iversley wearing a forbidding scowl.
He narrowed his eyes. “From whom?”
“Your estate. It requires your immediate attention.” She leveled a quelling glance on the now-murmuring crowd. “But that’s no reason for the rest of you not to enjoy the performances. Please, Louisa, do play something for Lady Regina to sing. I’m sure everyone would love to hear her.”
When the viscount looked as if he might speak again, their hostess added tersely, “If you would just come with me, sir, I’ll take you to the messenger.”
Lord Draker glowered at Lady Iversley, but with an icy, “Excuse me,” marched out of the drawing room, leaving Regina shaking from head to toe in mortification.
It was swiftly followed by anger. What on earth was wrong with the man? Had henosense whatsoever of proper public behavior? Granted, she had handled the situation badly. If she hadn’t acted so alarmed, he wouldn’t have pounced on her slip. But why must he always say such appalling things?
Look at the crowd—they were shocked. He’d just destroyed any gains Louisa had made for him. Even Lady Iversley’s quick thinking could not fix this.
