Georgia looked unconvinced. Ashley hated to lie to her friend. “I confess I stayed up too late the last few nights. Nothing a good night’s rest won’t solve.” There. Not a lie. Just an incomplete truth.
“Oh, well in that case, come with me. Mr. Huntley is going to sing in the other room. He has a divine voice. If you like tenors.”
Ashley chuckled and allowed herself to be towed along through the crowd to a room down the hall where a dozen people had gathered around a pianoforte.
Mr. Huntley was singing and accompanying himself, his playing as excellent as his voice. As the final note died, people called out requests for the next song.
“I’ll play, but only if you join me,” he said with a flirtatious smile aimed at two of the young women. He began the next tune, and within a few bars most people were singing with him.
Ashley nodded in greeting to Miss Valerie Kenyon, who had detached herself from the crowd to come greet her and Georgia. “I want to run my fingers through his hair,” Valerie said with a wistful smile.
Mr. Huntley did indeed have lovely thick auburn hair, with luxurious waves that might make a young woman want to muss them. Not Ashley, of course. She had discovered she was partial to men with long hair. And deep voices.
As if conjured by her thoughts, Lord Fairfax stepped beside Mr. Huntley and lent his voice to the song. Several other singers from groups competing in the Catch Club wended their way into the room, no doubt drawn by the music. When the song ended, Fairfax bumped Mr. Huntley with his hip, and Huntley graciously relinquished the bench at the keyboard.
Fairfax played a tune Ashley didn’t recognize, with no music in front of him.
“Tell me, my dear Lord Fairfax,” Lady Barbour said when he finished, suggestively running her gloved finger along the open case of the pianoforte. “Do you play by ear?”
“Yes.” He quickly played a glissando that included almost every key. “But I find it easier to use my hands.”
Lady Barbour looked uncertain if she’d just been the butt of a joke, while Ashley and Georgia stifled a laugh.
Fairfax flashed a charming smile and began playing and singing a familiar tune, in a lower key.
Mr. Huntley shook his head. “Too low for me,” Ashley saw him say.
Westbrook joined in, making it a duet, and soon Lord Leighton as well as Lord Sutcliff, a baritone from another quartet, joined in.
Ashley turned to make a comment to Valerie about how the floor seemed to pulsate from the combined deep voices—she could feel the vibrations through her silk slippers all the way up her spine—but Valerie was gone. A moment later she spotted her and Mr. Huntley backing away from the group around the pianoforte, arm in arm.
As the last notes faded away, an older gentleman with a full head of snow-white hair pushed his way through the crowd toward the pianoforte, calling out, “Where are my bassy boys?” When people didn’t move quickly enough, he used his walking stick to help clear the path. “Where are my bass—ah, there you are.” He laid a hand on Fairfax’s shoulder.
Fairfax jumped up and gave the old man a quick embrace. “Mr. Barrett, how delightful to see you,” Fairfax said, giving the much shorter man a gentle pat on the back.
Westbrook greeted him next, then Leighton and Sutcliff.
Barrett looked around. “I’m missing one of my bassy boys. Where’s Linford?”
“Lord Ravencroft left town to deal with an emergency at his estate,” Westbrook said, without looking at Ashley.
Mr. Barrett gave an impatient shake of his head. “Of course. Ravencroft now, not Linford. Terrible tragedy about his father and brother. You’ll have to sing without him.” He thumped his cane. “Well, don’t just stand there.” He pushed Fairfax toward the pianoforte. “Play something!”
While Westbrook, Fairfax, and Leighton had a silent argument as to who would play, Sutcliff snuck in behind them to claim the bench, and began to play another familiar tune, again arranged for lower voices. Ashley chuckled, remembering how Georgia had played a similar trick while her father and uncles argued.
Curious as to why gentlemen of the peerage were behaving like schoolboys, obeying a plain Mister, Ashley turned her questioning gaze to Georgia.
“Mr. Barrett was a music instructor for decades,” Georgia whispered. “He’s been a guest at Linford Hall and Mansfield Grange many times.” She spotted Valerie and Mr. Huntley in the far corner of the room, their heads close together in conversation, and blew out an impatient huff. “Well. I’m not sure I’d want to be courted by a man who can sing higher than me, anyway.” She shifted to Ashley’s other side so the couple was behind her, out of sight.
“And who has prettier hair.” They shared a grin.
Word spread that a game of charades was being played in the next room, and several people moved on, making room for others to get close to the pianoforte. Lady Danforth stepped forward, fanning her flushed face as she subtly swayed to the music, her eyes closed.
“She seems to be enjoying herself,” Ashley whispered, her chin pointing to the matron.
Georgia hid a smile behind her own fan.
The song ended. “Your entrance was late,” Mr. Barrett began. He pointed at Leighton. “You were flat.” He turned to Fairfax. “And you had to scoop up to find the right pitch.”
