Free Prelude for a Lord by Camille Elliot Page A

stronger than steel.
    “I wanted to stop at Porter’s bookshop to see if he had any new music, but that can wait for another day.”

    After Lucy paid for her employer’s items, they exited the bookshop. Alethea looked around but didn’t see the cadaverous man, so she breathed deeply of the morning air as the sisters walked slowly toward Queen Square.
    “Did Lady Whittlesby give you the name of someone to help you with your violin?” Lucy asked.
    Lord Dommick’s lean, handsome face flashed before her eyes. “Yes,” she answered darkly. “He’s calling this afternoon, the arrogant man.”
    Lucy looked thoughtful. “You may not realize this, but you only ever spoke of one man with that kind of venom.”
    Oh, no .
    “Let me guess. A nobleman, taller than you, for a change. Dark hair, velvety black eyes—”
    “He does not have velvety black eyes. And how would you know?”
    “Because that’s how you described him to me eleven years ago.” Lucy grinned at her.
    Alethea threw up her hands. “I confess, yes, it’s Lord Dommick.”
    “I knew he would stay in Bath, despite your speculations about it after you saw his carriage.”
    “He has no reason to winter in a quiet town like Bath when he could be feted in London or attend numerous house parties or just sit and count his violins at his own estate in the country.”
    “Did you give him a piece of your mind when you met again?”
    “It was at the assembly last night and I properly offended him. Twice.”
    “And he’s to help you with your violin?”
    “Lady Whittlesby introduced us and dangled her annual concert like a carrot in front of him if he helped me. I could have called him a nincompoop, and he’d have smiled and thanked me.”
    “I think you’re disgruntled because you think he wouldn’t be induced to help you without Lady Whittlesby’s interference.”

    “Well, he wouldn’t.”
    “Perhaps he’s changed.”
    “Perhaps he hasn’t,” Alethea muttered. Louder, she said, “I don’t have a choice. I can’t investigate the provenance of the violin on my own—I don’t have the contacts or the resources, and being a woman, I’m less likely to receive answers to any inquiries I send. I need someone to help me. I need Lord Dommick to help me.”
    “And you certainly look cheerful about it. Positively delighted.”
    Alethea laughed. “I promise to behave when I see him today.”
    At that moment, they turned the corner. Alethea happened to look across the street, slightly behind them.
    The cadaverous man stood at the corner. Watching her.
    She saw him more clearly this time. His skin wasn’t as dirty as it had been at the marketplace, but it still had that wrinkled, leathery texture that made him appear very old. Yet he didn’t hold his bony body like an old man—his limbs were fluid and comfortable as he slumped against the golden stone wall of a building, his clothing a motley of shades of grey. The colours matched his wiry, thinning hair that floated around his wide ears and his grey, almost colourless, eyes.
    He looked directly at her, and then smiled.
    It wasn’t a pleasant smile. He tilted his knobby chin up and flashed his dirty, crooked teeth—one missing from the front—like a challenge to her.
    And this time she was with her sister .
    She made the mistake of glancing at Lucy, who hadn’t seen him, and then back at the man.
    He smiled wider, his eyes narrowing.
    No. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her.
    Alethea turned her back and grasped hold of Lucy’s elbow in a firm but casual grip. “Tell me, to what heights has Mrs. Ramsland attained in selfish bitterness this week?” She was surprised hervoice sounded almost normal, and since a cart rolled past them, Lucy didn’t notice the slight tremor.
    Lucy shook her head. “Speaking of Mrs. Ramsland would only upset me, and I must be calm when I return to her today.”
    “Oh, Lucy, surely there is another position to be had in Bath.”
    “The winter season is starting,