most likely it wasn’t unusual for Carleton House, Randolph thought as he reluctantly stepped away from her. The fellow had probably witnessed far worse. Randolph wished Miss Sinclair hadn’t been involved, however.
Their rotund royal host sailed in, resplendent. “All in order?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” replied Randolph.
The prince’s gaze had paused and fixed on Miss Sinclair’s bosom. “Going to stay in here until the time, eh? Just the two of you?”
“Miss Sinclair’s mother will be along in a moment.” Randolph was thankful that she hadn’t been the one to discover them.
“Oh, you don’t want that,” said the prince. “I’ll fob her off, shall I?”
“That’s not necessary, sir.”
“Really?” The older man’s tone was incredulous. “Ah, you’re Langford’s parson son, ain’t you?” he said then. “I suppose you have to act the saint.” His expression mixed pity and mild contempt.
That made Randolph angry, but he said nothing. Mrs. Sinclair rushed in then, distressed at having taken a wrong turn. She stopped short and curtsied at the sight of the prince. He offered a few cordial platitudes and departed. “Oh my.” Mrs. Sinclair let out a long sigh. “There’s such a crush of people already. All very grand, of course. Your mother kindly helped me find my way, Lord Randolph.”
“Come and sit down, Mama,” said Verity.
Randolph took Mrs. Sinclair’s arm and led her over to a sofa by the wall. “You can be comfortable here. No need to move until it’s over.”
“I wish it was,” Mrs. Sinclair said, plopping down and fanning herself with one hand. “I can’t abide strangers pressing all around me. And it’s very warm, isn’t it?”
“The prince hates drafts,” replied Randolph. “He keeps his windows shut tight.”
“I daresay it will be stifling when all those people come in here.”
“I’ll find you a glass of lemonade.”
“Oh, I don’t wish to trouble you.”
“No trouble.” He’d find that footman to fetch it, Randolph thought as he went out. And he would overcome his desire to kiss Miss Sinclair again, and again, before they became the target of hundreds of curious eyes.
* * *
At the appointed time, the crowd surged into the music room and filled the rows of gilt chairs provided for them. The air filled with the rustle of silks and curious murmurs. As Randolph had predicted, most of them stared. Miss Sinclair looked uneasy, and he tried to encourage her with a smile.
The prince came to the front and raised a hand for silence. “We have quite a treat before us,” he said. “A pair of very talented amateur musicians kindly agreed to entertain us tonight.”
He emphasized amateur not to insult their skill but to show that he didn’t consider them hirelings, Randolph realized.
“A son of my friend Langford,” His Highness continued. “One of the many.”
The crowd laughed politely.
“And the lovely Miss Verity Sinclair, daughter of the dean of Chester Cathedral.”
A small sound from his companion let Randolph know that she didn’t appreciate the label.
“People will write to Papa,” she whispered. “I thought it would be a few days before they connected me with him.”
The prince stepped back with a wave of his hand. Randolph sat at the pianoforte. And they began.
After a slight quaver from Miss Sinclair at the beginning, they fell into the harmony that seemed natural to them. The melodies and variations they’d rehearsed chimed out, with further embroideries that came in the moment. Randolph was soon lost in the music. They might have been singing alone in the music room at Langford House, for all that he noticed of his surroundings. The lingering feel of their kiss made the experience even more intense.
The applause at the end of their program was loud and prolonged, punctuated with bravos. It was exhilarating. Randolph took his partner’s hand as they made their bows.
People surged forward to congratulate them. They were gradually driven apart by the press of the crowd, but Randolph tried to keep an eye on Verity. If she showed signs of being overwhelmed, he intended to go to the rescue. His parents approached, all smiles, flanked by the prince.
“Oh, Randolph, that was exquisite,” said his mother.
“Very well done indeed,” agreed his father.
“Far better than their previous outing, I daresay,” gloated the prince. He beamed at the chattering crowd.
Randolph stepped to the side as he thanked them. He’d lost sight of Miss Sinclair, and he found he didn’t want that. But there were so many people in the way.
“That was…extraordinary,” said a deep voice at Verity’s back. She turned to find Thomas Rochford gazing down at her, tall and