played it so many times over the years, altering the melody and harmonies slightly to give the ditty more depth, and he was proud of the final product. He sang it directly to Niall, in spite of the danger he knew it presented to both of them. He was well aware as he sang that his emotions were on his sleeve and that two dozen sets of eyes were watching, but he counted on the reputation he’d gained as everyone’s friend and no one’s lover but Annamarie’s to hide the truth.
Niall kept his expression carefully blank through the song, but Blake could see the heat in his eyes. Heat of anger, yes, but more than just that. As he finished, smiling modestly for Lady Inglewood’s guests, Niall clapped twice, then narrowed his eyes.
“What a delightful way to end the evening.” Lady Inglewood met Blake as he stood and stepped away from the piano, toward Niall. Niall got up and moved gingerly toward him. “I’m surprised you didn’t attempt a career on the stage yourself, your grace. You certainly could have managed it.” Lady Inglewood laughed at her own joke. Blake knew as well as she did that a career on the stage would have been impossible for the likes of him. But as he glanced to Niall, his heart thrummed as though anything were possible now.
“I think I would have enjoyed a life on the stage,” Blake said, his spirits high. “Don’t you think that life would have suited me?” he asked Niall.
Niall hummed noncommittally, then said, “I think we should be getting back to Selby Manor.”
“I quite agree,” Blake said. Particularly since he had every intention of pushing his luck to the limit that night and attempting to get Niall in bed. He felt drunk with love and with daring.
Niall was on to him before they even left Lady Inglewood’s parlor, though. “No,” he said as they marched into the hall, where Lady Inglewood’s butler and footmen had the guests’ coats waiting. “Don’t even think it, don’t even imagine it. It’s not going to happen. You’re treading on thin ice as it is, and I’ve half a mind to head back to London if you keep grinning at me like that.”
“Was it Shakespeare who said ‘the lady doth protest too much, methinks’?” Blake whispered as they approached a small group of departing guests.
Niall merely scowled at him, jaw clenched, as he took his coat from one of the footmen.
“Mr. Cristofori.” Blake and Niall both turned to see Miss Yates, who had been seated next to Niall at supper, heading down the hall toward him. “If I might have just a moment of your time.”
They had nearly made it out the door and paused for Miss Yates, but another of Lady Inglewood’s guests, Lord Rochester, stopped them. Miss Yates’s shoulders dropped in disappointment, and she fell back, deferring to Lord Rochester.
“I remember that musical,” Rochester said, narrowing his eyes and glancing between Blake and Niall. “I remember a lot of things about that spring.”
“You were in the class below us,” Blake said, remembering himself.
“You were a stagehand for the production,” Niall added in a strained voice.
“For the entire production.” Lord Rochester grinned knowingly. “It was the most fun I had that term. I’ve been telling people for years that I once worked with the great Niall Cristofori.” His grin widened as they all put their coats on and headed out into the cool, autumn evening. “Suddenly, quite a few things make sense.”
“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” Blake said, sobering. Rochester knew. Niall had been right about him getting the two of them in trouble. Then again, Blake highly doubted Rochester would whisper a word to anyone.
“Is that your carriage?” Niall asked, marching straight toward where Blake’s driver had pulled up in front of the house.
They climbed into the carriage without another word. Blake’s high spirits were only slightly dented, but he could sense Niall’s annoyance as though it were a strong perfume in the air.
“Rochester doesn’t really know what he thinks he knows,” Blake said as soon as the carriage was in motion and there was no danger of their conversation being overheard.
“Of all the irresponsible, incendiary, block-headed things you could have done,” Niall started, shouting in spite of how close they sat.
“No one suspected a thing,” Blake argued, just as loudly, laughing in spite of himself. “All anyone cared about was throwing their eligible daughters at me. Lady Inglewood’s crowd isn’t the sort to entertain that sort