Rose in Bloom (Sex and the Season #2)(51)

“About five years. Before that I lived in the house you’re renting. I stayed there many years after I could have afforded to move. I felt it necessary to watch my money carefully. I grew up poor, you see, and that’s a mentality that doesn’t go away overnight.”

“I understand what you mean,” Cameron said. “Has the other home been vacant for long?”

“About a month. The family renting it moved to Bristol.”

“I’m lucky it was available then.”

“Yes, sometimes timing is everything,” Newland agreed, handing his hat to his butler. “Ah, here comes Evelyn now. My dear, I’d like you to meet Mr. Cameron Price. He’s the new composer I was telling you about. Price, my sister, Miss Evelyn Newland.”

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Newland,” Cameron said, bowing.

“The pleasure is mine, sir.” Evelyn beamed. She was attractive, with auburn hair and dark brown eyes.

Although her stature was average, Cameron found himself thinking that she was too short. He was comparing her to Rose, of course, who was tall. It was his eternal damnation to compare every woman he met from now on to Rose, and he would do doubt find them all lacking. Perhaps he was meant to remain a bachelor forever.

“The chef has prepared his specialty tonight, coq au vin,” Evelyn continued. “I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking, Mr. Price.”

Cameron cleared his throat. Coq au vin? He guessed that was French. “I’m sure it will be excellent,” he said, hoping it wasn’t brains or stomach. The French were fond of eating strange things.

It turned out to be chicken cooked in red wine, and it was indeed delicious. It was served with buttered green beans, creamed vegetable marrow, and new potatoes with parsley. A fruit and cheese tray followed, and coconut cake for dessert. The Newlands were lively company, and Cameron smiled and laughed more than he had in a long time. When the last dessert plate was taken from the table, Newland stood.

“Would you care for a port, Price?”

“Yes, of course.” He rose.

“If you two gentlemen will excuse me.” Evelyn stood and left the dining room.

“She’s pleasant,” Cameron said.

“Yes, Evie’s a great girl. Come, we’ll take our port in the smoking room.”

Newland led Cam to a lush room adorned in distinctly masculine decor.

“Do you hunt?” Cameron asked, noting the head of a stag mounted on the wall above the hearth.

“Heavens, no,” Newland said. “Where would I find the time? That’s just decoration. Hunting is a sport for the nobility.”

Cameron nodded. He should have known that. Determined not to make an idiot of himself again, he took a cigar when Newland offered his humidor, even though he had never smoked one in his life. He followed Newland’s lead, biting off the tip and taking small puffs as Newland lit it for him. The smoke tasted bitter in his mouth. He was wondering why men had any desire to suck on these tobacco sausages, when a bit of the smoke touched the back of his throat, sending him into a spasm of wheezy coughing.

“I say, Price, are you quite all right?” Newland asked.

“Yes, of course,” Cameron lied.

“This is your first cigar, isn’t it?”

“No, of course not,” Cameron said. Then, “Well, yes, it is.”

Newland erupted in laughter. “I couldn’t stand it the first time either. You’ll get used to it. You’ll have to, if you’re to hobnob with the theatre crowd.”

What do you mean, ‘the theatre crowd?’” Cameron asked.

“The theatre won’t run itself, you know. I expect my productions to be successful, but good reviews and ticket sales aren’t enough to keep it going. We depend on our patrons.”

“I see.” Cameron nodded. “After all, you hired me to make Lybrook happy.”

“Yes, in part. I also hired you because you have talent.”

“What exactly are my responsibilities as far as the theatre crowd goes?”

“Your responsibilities are to write excellent unforgettable music for our productions, Price.”

“And…?”

“That’s it. Although I will expect you to attend the soirees that I give for our patrons. I imagine many of them will want to make your acquaintance.”

“And are many of them women?”

“Some,” Newland said. Then, “Ah, I see what you’re asking.” He chuckled. “No, you won’t be expected to barter your sexual favors for the good of the theatre. Although, when you meet some of the ladies who support us, you may not have a problem with it.”

Cameron smiled. “I hope I didn’t offend you, Newland.”

“Not at all. My first patron, Lady Denbigh, never asked anything like that of me. Believe it or not, her intentions were purely altruistic.” He laughed. “Just as well, since she was in her early sixties at the time, and I was nineteen. Too much even for a randy lad like myself to consider.”

Cameron chuckled. “I see.”

“Not that I’ve been a saint, mind you, but in all honesty I haven’t made it a habit to—shall we say—service rich ladies to get donations for my theatre.” Newland let out a chortle. “I usually service them for different reasons entirely.”