Page 32 of Echo in the Wind

“I don’t see him with the royal family,” remarked Lady Joanna. “I see only the king and queen, Prince Edward and the princesses.”

Lady Danvers shifted her gaze to the gallery across from them. “He’s not with the family. See? The prince sits with his friend, Lord Hugh, attending as a private gentleman.” Facing Lady Joanna, the baroness said, “Seymour has been invited to the soiree.”

Jean cared little whether the prince attended the concert or Lord Hugh would come to the soiree to follow. At the moment, his eyes were fixed on Lady Joanna’s slender neck, recalling her appearance on the deck of his ship in the dim light that evening off the coast of Bognor. Why would she risk so lovely a neck when she obviously had no need of coin?

From what Jean had learned, Torrington did well with his lands in Chichester and their home bespoke of family wealth. Was she just another bored aristocrat?

The sound of the orchestra striking up brought his musing to an end. Jean glanced at the program he held as the orchestra set a sublime mood for the concert.

The Pantheon had a daunting resemblance to a great church, which was only enhanced by Handel’s music brilliantly played. He crossed his legs and prepared his mind for the music as the stirring sounds reverberated around the large chamber.

After the opening piece, the choir sang the chorus from Ye Sons of Israel, their two hundred voices rising to the dome. Jean watched the hundred violins playing in perfect accord. Never had he heard such a sound. Quelle musique sublime!

He closed his eyes, hearing only the sound of the strings. The music of the German composer who had lived most of his life in England had been a favorite of Jean’s from his youth, and the violins brought back memories from happier days.

By the time the performers began the second part, the Fifth Grand Concerto, the theater had grown stiflingly hot. Jean fanned himself with his program, regretting having worn the velvet coat and the waistcoat, heavy with embroidery.

Lady Danvers opened her fan and fluttered it before her face.

In front of him, Lady Joanna maintained her calm appearance, but tiny beads of moisture formed on her fair skin, like drops of seawater on an oyster’s pearl. In the moist heat, a few strands of auburn hair curled against the back of her neck. He had the unexplainable urge to press his lips to the very spot, to taste her skin, to send shivers down her back, knowing he was the cause.

Not since Ariane had he experienced such desire for a woman.

Surprised by his reaction to the English vixen, he forced his ears once again to the music of the violins that summoned the passions of his soul and not his flesh.

The loud applause that immediately followed the Grand Concerto abruptly pulled Joanna from the magical state into which her mind had drifted. Rising from the bench, she joined the rest of the audience in acclaiming the performance.

Cornelia leaned toward her, speaking over the appreciative clapping. “Wasn’t Pacchierotti’s voice fine in the “Alma del gran Pompeo” from Julius Caesar?”

“Yes, he was magnificent, but nothing could exceed the grandeur of the chorus from Israel in Egypt. The crash of instruments, the response of the great choir and the immense torrent of sound were almost too much for my senses.” Her heart sped as she remembered the exhilaration she had experienced.

“In other words, my lady,” said Donet from behind her, “you loved it.”

She turned to meet his disquieting gaze. “Why, yes, I did.”

When the applause died, Cornelia asked Monsieur Donet, “What was your favorite part?”

He did not hesitate. “The violins.”

Joanna puzzled over his answer, seeing something in his face she had not seen before. A brightening of his countenance, perhaps even a look of bliss.

“Too, I liked the choir’s rendition of ‘hail-stones for rain and fire, mingled with the hail’,” he added, smiling at Cornelia. “The orchestra’s great volume of sound accompanying so many voices raised in song reminded me of a storm at sea. Tout était magnifique, Lady Danvers.”

Cornelia seemed pleased. “I am delighted you enjoyed it, Monsieur.”

“The crowd is flowing out the doors,” observed Lord Danvers to his wife. “We can make our escape. As it is, some of our guests may arrive at our home before we do!”

Tillie rushed up to Donet, effusive in her telling him of her joy of the concert. The comte smiled delightedly and, agreeing with her remarks, offered his arm to escort her from the box. She smiled up at him as she placed her hand on his arm and the two filed out with the others, leaving Joanna with Richard.

“The comte has made a conquest in our sister.”

“I have noticed, Brother. But do not fear, I will be watching to make sure he does not take advantage.”

“I cannot imagine he would, Sister. Donet is a gentleman. A Frenchman, yes, but also a man of noble birth.”

“Whom you once described as a pirate,” she reminded him.

Richard chortled. “I only said that for Addington’s benefit. He is biased against the French and the Catholics. I like goading him. I remind you ’tis only a rumor Donet acted the pirate.”