Rose in Bloom (Sex and the Season #2)(47)

“Your papa was always proud of you, Cam. You were the light of his life. He never wanted you to know about his beating. He was afraid it would make him weak in your eyes. I told him over and over that you wouldn’t feel that way, that you would be glad to know your musical gifts came from him, but he wouldn’t be swayed. He made me promise on his deathbed that you children would never know the truth. Dear Lord, I hope I don’t burn in hell for this betrayal.”

“You did the right thing, Mum.”

“That remains to be seen. If only there were more money. Oh!” Mrs. Price gasped. “Money! I nearly forgot. I still have the hundred pounds you gave me to pay the hospital bill.”

“Didn’t they find the error?”

“The bookkeeper said he did a thorough accounting, and he couldn’t find an error.”

“Who made the payment then?”

“He didn’t know. Evidently it came in while he was on his lunch break. It was in an unmarked envelope, with a note attached saying it was to be used for Kat’s care.”

“I don’t like the sound of this.”

“It’s a bit odd, but Cam, can’t we just accept it?”

“It’s charity.”

“I don’t know that it is. Maybe it’s just our time. And Dear Lord, it’s been a long time coming.”

“Mum—”

“Don’t tell me that an extra hundred pounds won’t come in handy while you’re looking for the perfect situation for your incredible talents.”

“Of course, but—”

“Then let’s just let it go this one time. We’ve never taken this kind of help before. We don’t even know where the money came from, so we can’t return it. Let’s just say it was a gift from God this one time.”

Cameron smiled at his mother. “All right, Mum. Just this one time.” He gave her a quick hug.





Chapter Ten


Cameron’s first day in Bath was a disappointment. No one was hiring for anything, especially not an untrained composer who could play the pianoforte and the guitar. The next day, on a whim, he entered the Regal Theatre of Bath, a new playhouse that had been only recently completed. Since Bath had been linked to London by rail in 1841, the Theatre Royal, which had been built in 1805, had been bolstered. One of its most successful actors, Zachary Newland, had branched out on his own and constructed the new theatre, putting together a company and hoping draw the crowds in from London and Bristol.

Cam had read about the Regal. Though similar to the Royal in size, the Regal sported a cozier atmosphere. Newland wanted to produce quality plays and musicales within in his own company, as well as debut national productions that would eventually end up in one of London’s noted theatres. It was near the end of the working day when Cameron knocked on the door of Newland’s office.

The tall auburn-haired man opened the door. “May I be of assistance?”

Cameron cleared his throat. “Zachary Newland?”

“Yes?”

“Good afternoon.” Cam held out his hand. “I am looking for work.”

“Are you an actor?”

“No. A composer, actually.”

“Hmm. Published?”

“Yes. Two pieces published in London. A folk tune and a waltz.”

“No experience in composing for the theatre, then?”

“I’m afraid not. But I feel certain that I could do it.”

“Where did you study?”

Cameron sighed. This was always the question he dreaded. “I’m purely self-taught.”

“Oh.” Newland pulled his timepiece from his pocket, looked at it, and frowned. “I’m on my way out, but if you’d like to leave me a calling card, perhaps I’ll get back to you. However, I’m afraid I can’t offer you much promise.”

“Of course, I understand.” Cameron reached in his pocket and pulled out a card with his name and address written on it and handed it to the gentleman. “Here you are. Thank you for your time.” He turned and headed toward the door.

“Wait.” Newland came up behind him. “You’re Cameron Price?”

“Yes.”

“That name sounds familiar to me. You say you’ve been published?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps I am familiar with your work.”

“It’s possible, though neither was widely distributed. I was young and unfortunately didn’t really know how to market my music. I chose a small publishing house and wasn’t paid much.”

“You don’t say.” Newland scratched his head, regarding Cameron as though he were trying to solve a riddle. Suddenly his eyes widened. “Wait here, will you?” Newland briskly walked into another room and came back holding a piece of music. “Did you write this?”

Cameron took the parchment. It was a copy of Lily’s Waltz. “Yes, I did. But I’m not sure how you came upon it. It was a private commission for the Duke of Lybrook.”

Newland chuckled. “The duke sent it to me, along with a sizable donation to the theatre. His father was a great patron of the arts and was one of the Theatre Royal’s greatest benefactors.”

“I see. Why would Lybrook send you my waltz?”