the violin. While she played with enthusiasm, Margaret had to admit she needed much more practice. When Mrs. Anderson gestured for Margaret to come and sit next to her on the piano bench, she eagerly complied. As Margaret joined Miss Nelson and Phaedra on a simple piece, Mrs. Anderson gently corrected her on her form and technique, making several suggestions. Margaret’s fingers didn’t leave the keys again until the tea cart arrived.
Mrs. Anderson gave her a quick hug and said, “You have a gift, Margaret. Your passion for music is evident in every keystroke. Do not let anyone deter you from continuing to do what you love.”
Margaret nodded solemnly, her eyes welling with tears. It had been so long since anyone had praised or complimented her for anything.
Except Lord Welles. He had admired my playing.
She ran her hands over the piano, caressing the fine wood with her fingertips. “I daresay anyone would sound like an angel on an instrument such as this.”
Mrs. Anderson frowned. “Surely your aunt possesses a piano?”
“She does,” Margaret assured her. “But nothing so fine. The poor thing is ancient and out of tune. But I do my best.”
Mrs. Anderson stared at her thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “I’m sure you do.”
The butler, Pith, presented the tea cart with a flourish. The tray was piled high with a vast assortment of sandwiches, pastries, honey, and clotted cream in addition to the tea.
The duchess clapped her hands. “Ladies, a symphony of delights awaits you.”
Mrs. Anderson laughed at her friend’s little joke and made her way to the sofa. Chairs had been arranged around a low table in the center of the room. Dropping the violin, Phaedra raced to the tea cart but slowed down as the duchess tilted her head. The other ladies approached in a much calmer manner.
Margaret had been so focused on the Broadwood and the music filling the room she’d given little thought to anything else. Reluctantly, she left the piano and took a place on the sofa where her stomach proceeded to grumble in hunger at the repast laid before them.
Accepting a cup of tea, Margaret bit into a flaky currant scone, so light it melted in her mouth. Her aunt’s cook was not nearly so skilled at baking. As she savored her treat, Margaret listened in rapt attention to the conversation around her.
The Duchess of Averell, she soon found out, had always been a patron of the arts. Her support of female artists was well known. She and Mrs. Anderson met when the latter had come to teach both the duchess and Andromeda, whom everyone referred to as Romy, the piano.
Mrs. Anderson rolled her eyes at the recollection. “Your Grace was kind enough to end her lessons after a time.”
The duchess burst into laughter. “And it was a kindness,” she said, eyes twinkling. “I was quite terrible. I believe my husband begged me to stop, promising he would gift me with a large diamond if only I would cease my attempts at playing. His late wife was musically inclined, and I had wished to impress him. My lack of talent, however, does not preclude me from encouraging others.” She nodded in the direction of Phaedra, who was licking frosting off her lip, and Miss Nelson. “Artistic pursuits should be nurtured, no matter what form they take, whether you are male or female. When I learned that all women, no matter their skill, were denied membership in the Royal Society of Musicians, I was outraged. An artist is an artist and should receive the support of their peers, despite their gender. When my dear Lucy informed me the Royal Society of Musicians would deny assistance to a violinist or pianist purely because that person was female, I was outraged.”
“Outraged is a much more polite term for my emotion at the time,” Mrs. Anderson chimed in. “Mrs. Mounsey and myself, along with another friend, decided to form our own society to assist female musicians in need. Her Grace has thrown her support behind us.” She took her friend’s hand. “And we are most grateful.”
The duchess blushed at the attention and squeezed Mrs. Anderson’s hand. “You shall always have my support.”
After tea, Mrs. Mounsey and Mrs. Adams saw themselves out with hugs and a thank you to the duchess.
Mrs. Anderson smiled and stood, patting her stomach. “My compliments to your cook on the scones, Your Grace. And I am so happy you could join us today, Miss Lainscott. I fear I won’t see you again