Liam took so long to respond David began to think he hadn’t heard or was going to ignore the question. “I may have to start charging you rent,” he said, barely audible.
“Oh?”
“I think I’ve lost my patron. I, ah, may have offended him. "
Davis sat in the chair. “One, I find that hard to believe and two, surely the stipend he pays you won’t have much impact on your budget if it is true.”
Liam slumped on the bench, staring at his feet. “I haven’t paid my coal merchant in two years. Nor my tailor.”
David knew his friend to be an honorable person. He raised his brows in silent query.
“Each time I try to make payment, the bill has already been settled. Even my account with the greengrocer and the coffee house next door have a generous credit each month.” He studied the fingernails of his left hand. “The merchants will only tell me my benefactor wishes to remain anonymous.”
David chose his words carefully. “Sounds like he is paying for more than private music lessons.”
“He is lonely. He has stories to tell, fascinating tales after two decades in the army. But his daughters don’t want to hear them, his wife is dead, and his son lives in Northumberland. I enjoy hearing them.” Liam let out a gusty sigh. “We have been meeting once a week for over two years. We’ve always held his lessons at the pianoforte in his drawing room. Two weeks ago we had just begun when he suggested that we move the lesson… to his bed.” Liam rubbed his temples with the heels of his hands. “I never thought he would expect me to be aneromenosto hiserastes.”
David dredged up what he could recall of ancient Greek social structure. “Since you are the teacher, wouldn’t those roles be reversed?”
Liam looked at him askance. “I told him that it is possible to hold someone in great esteem and affection without wanting to share one’s body with them.”
“Or their bed.”
Liam gave a ghost of a grin. “Unless the headmaster is being stingy with the coal and trying to freeze us to death.”
Reminded at how some nights the Eton dormitory had been so frigid they could see their breath, David threw another scoop of coal on the fire. He and Liam had often doubled up in the winter to share their blankets. “How can you be certain the relationship has ended?”
Liam put away some sheets of music and got out others. “He sent a note to cancel our next lesson, and I have not heard from him since. The knocker is gone from his door.”
David fetched a decanter and two glasses from the sitting room. He poured two fingers’ worth of whiskey in Liam’s glass, and half that for himself.
Liam held his glass up in a silent toast before he downed it in one go. “Now you know why I helped Diana persuade you to join us for this year’s competition. I need a share of the prize money.”
David took a sip. “You’rethe one who persuaded her to bring the viola da gamba to London.” The precious instrument had not left the music room at Linford Hall in years.
“It had its own private coach and a full complement of outriders. You would have thought the crown jewels were inside.” Liam poured himself another whiskey. “And now you can play it every evening after spending your days fulfilling your responsibilities in Parliament and with your steward.”
It was not that simple. “You don’t need me. The four of you sound fine even if Parker doesn’t play. Besides, I’m out of practice. I don’t havetimeto practice. I have too many obligations as it is.”
“Your voice is not currently in top form, true, but even so it’s better than many singers can hope for. And I know you practice in the mornings. It wouldn’t take you long to get ready for competition if you determined to do so.”
“Morning practice? I don’t know to what you’re referring.”
Liam glanced at him sideways. “Oh, please. Half the village knows you serenade your horse.”
“I do not sing to my horse,” David said indignantly. He stared into the amber liquid in his glass. “She simply does not mind the sound when I sing on our morning rides.” He had to set aside frivolous music when he took up the burdens of the title, but couldn’t bear to leave it behind completely.
Liam moved the silver skull-handled walking stick so he could reach into a different drawer with music folders. “You know we have a better chance against Bristol and Fairfax with you,” he continued. “Mansfield can hit the basso profundo notes, but they drop like rocks in a pond. Whereas your voice is light and agile, hopping from one lily pad to another, even on the lowest notes.”
David narrowed his eyes. “Did you just call me a frog?”
Liam continued as though David had not spoken. “While I can hit a few bass notes, I can’t lounge about in that register all day like you can. There is something about the bass voice that affects the judges—even male judges—almost as much as it affects women.”
“Affects?” He took another sip.
Liam’s melancholy expression vanished, replaced by a knowing grin. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. At Lady Bristol’s soiree last week, at least two matrons in the audience had all the telltale signs. Flushed cheeks, rapid breathing, fanning themselves…” He mimed fanning himself. “Lady Barbour practically swooned when she heard you sing. If you had crooked your finger, she would have followed you anywhere, done anything you wanted.” He lowered his chin and raised his eyebrows, giving David a suggestive look. “Anything.”
David tried to recall Lady Barbour. Or any of the ladies in the audience. He’d been so busy avoiding looking at Miss Hamlin, he hadn’t noticed.
