Rose in Bloom (Sex and the Season #2)(13)
Chapter Three
“Good God,” Cameron said under his breath. Xavier must have found out about his tryst with Rose. He had no desire to be pummeled by this mountainous man. He looked up. “My lord?”
“Mr. Price, good afternoon,” Evan said. “I’m sorry to barge in unannounced, but I’m leaving for my estate and wanted to speak to you as soon as possible.”
“About what?” Cameron asked, a bit rudely.
“I have…er…a business proposition for you.”
Mrs. Price rose. “I have work in the kitchen, so I’ll leave you two gentlemen to your discussion.”
Evan stood up gallantly. “Of course, Mrs. Price. It was delightful to meet you.”
“The pleasure was mine, my lord.” She made a quick exit.
“What can I help you with, my lord?” Cameron asked.
“Well,” Evan began, “you know that I’m courting Lady Rose Jameson.”
“Yes,” Cameron said dryly.
“She is a great admirer of your music.”
“She is?”
“Of course, didn’t you know that? I was under the impression that you worked closely with her on the waltz for the duchess.”
“Yes, we worked together,” Cameron said, thankful that Xavier hadn’t come to throttle him. “She never mentioned any particular taste for my music.”
“Well, she has mentioned it to me.”
“I’m flattered. But what do you want from me?”
“I’d like to commission a song for Rose. Not a waltz necessarily. Perhaps a ballad.”
“I don’t write lyrics, my lord,” he said, although for Rose, he probably could.
“You don’t? Well, that’s not a problem. I’m more interested in the music. I think it would mean a great deal to her. I…I’m planning to propose marriage to her, and I would like to serenade her with a piece of your music.”
An invisible knife stabbed Cameron in the heart. “You’re proposing?”
“Yes. Not right away. I want to have the song first.”
Cameron sighed. He could write a song for Rose. He could write a whole symphony or opera about her. About only one part of her. He could compose an entire piece on her lips alone, or her sapphire eyes, or her peachy satin skin. It would be the easiest commission ever. He could do it in his sleep.
But he would not. Not if it was to be a gift from another man. He couldn’t.
“I’m sorry, my lord, but I’m leaving for London on the morrow.”
“When will you be back?
“I won’t. I’m moving there permanently.”
“You could still write the piece, could you not?”
“I’m afraid not, my lord. I’m taking a job that won’t allow me the time for private commissions.”
“Could you postpone your departure? I assure you that you will be handsomely compensated.”
Cameron sighed again. He had no job lined up in London, and he needed money. “How much are you offering?”
“What is your going rate?”
“Two hundred pounds.”
Cameron expected Xavier to laugh at him. To say there was no way in hell he was going to pay such an exorbitant amount to some amateur composer. But he didn’t.
“Two hundred it is, then,” Evan said. “Surely you could see fit to postpone your departure for that sum.”
Two hundred pounds was a ridiculous amount of money. The duke had paid it, but he was one of the richest men in England. Xavier was the second son of the Earl of Brighton. He would never come into a title of his own. His father must provide him with a generous allowance.
With another two hundred pounds, Cameron wouldn’t have to worry about his mother and sisters for a year, or even two or three. He could go to London and make a name for himself in the musical world, knowing his loved ones were cared for. But to write a song for Rose, for another man to give to her? He’d sooner scoop out his heart with a pitchfork.
But Rose was only a dream. His family was reality, and the money would mean they could live better lives.
“You’ve convinced me, my lord,” he said. “I’ll require at least a quarter in advance.”
“Of course.”
“I assume time is of the essence?”
“Yes, I’d like it done by the solstice.”
“That’s little more than three weeks, my lord.”
“I know. Is it possible?”
“I suppose, but I can’t do a full orchestration in that amount of time. I can only arrange it for the pianoforte.”
“That’s perfect,” Evan said. “Rose loves the pianoforte, as you most likely know.”
“Yes,” he said dryly, “I know.”
“Very well then, Price.” Evan rose and held out his hand.
Cameron shook it, his large long-fingered hand dwarfed by Evan’s ham-sized one.
“I’ll see myself out.”
“Good day, my lord.” Cameron sank down onto the sofa, running his fingers over the worn satin brocade. What the hell have I done to myself?
The next day Rose went riding. Although her two mares were still in Hampshire, the duke had a stable full of beauties, including Begonia, a mare he’d bought for Lily. When Begonia was saddled, Rose mounted and took off down the southern trail.