Rivals and Revels (A Regency Romance)

The Ode to Heroes (2 of 2)

All conversations ceased in anticipation of Hazel's singing. Mr. Aldington started up a sentimental song, much beloved in the last season. While it was a perfect choice for young and innocent Hazel, Mabel stiffened in her chair, a premonition of disaster seizing her throat.

The spark her sister put into her singing would have delighted in a salon. But after the quadrilles, her voice struggled to fill the giant room. It pip-squicked helplessly instead of stirring emotion.

Mr. Aldington, the only clueless soul in the audience, pounded the keys, completely absorbed with the object of his affections. Even if he had any wits left and joined in, his baritone was rather weak, despite him being a good pianist. He was also all wrong for Chesterton's grand place.

A sad chuckle escaped Mabel: Mr. Aldington was finally as perfectly matched with her sister as he could be. She imagined Hazel was not too happy about that.

"Miss Walton was right. Her voice is off today," Everett whispered to his brother, but without overly bothering to lower his voice.

"And you are in a dreadful mood," Radcliffe replied tightly. "If only you had invested half the efforts of the Walton sisters into being pleasant, I would not have wished for more."

"Oh, forgive you me," Everett drawled. "The opera houses around the world would have been fighting over Miss Walton, were she an actress."

Mabel cackled like a bitter hag before pinching her lips together behind her fan. The witticism was unkind, and with a hint of scandal: to call a gentle born girl an actress! She'd never have wished upon anyone to be the butt of his jokes, least of all her sister. But for an uncaring, glorious moment, she felt vindicated.

While Mabel fought down her inappropriate reaction by imagining Radcliffe's stoney expression, Hazel was suffering through the last verse. She tilted her head from side to side, in the hope that her bouncing curls would distract from how mediocre the song sounded. She reached for higher notes. But all was in wain. The last ray of her angelic glimmer faded. The ensorcelling eyes now projected despair.

Mabel sobered up. Between her earlier humiliation on the dance floor and this terrible number this ball was cursed. The Chestertons were unbearable, particularly the youngest scion of the family. Why couldn't he be as pleasant as his brother or even capricious like his sister? No, he had to be rude! He had to make her laugh. He had to be him!

The wave of resentment lifted Mable to her feet, before she could think things through. Her head span. Curious glances focused on her again, but never mind that. If her antics entertained the guests better than Hazel's singing so be it. She lived to serve.

Mable made her way to the piano-forte, and pinned Hazel to the spot with a determined gaze. She hoped that the message was clear: don't desert me now. Hazel forced out the last word of the song and gulped. Polite, unenthusiastic applause came from the audience. She stood her ground, smiling wanly, while Mabel ruffled through the music sheets.

The claps ended, replaced by whispers. Even a few chuckles could be heard. She could just imagine what Everett must be whispering to his brother. Maybe, just maybe Radcliffe leapt to her defense as readily as he'd just defended Hazel. Her neck flushed red, but she didn't have time for pleasant shivers. The right music sheet finally fell into her trembling hands.

She installed it on the pulpit, after flashing it briefly to Hazel and took her place by Mr. Aldington, prepared to forestall any objections. The man, however, was too preoccupied with beaming at Hazel to protest her intrusion. He might as well beam: the host of Hazel's admirers would thin out after this.

Mabel pulled her attention away from the two love birds and turned it toward the audience. Her voice rang with the thrill of her gamble. Good thing it did, for it covered the resuming conversations.