Powerless (4 page)

Nevertheless, he wanted to learn more about the man. He
decided to visit Edward later that week and thank him for the invitation to the
ball. It would be a good excuse to inquire after the violinist and perhaps
contract him for a ball or two of his own.

~*~

James visited the manor only three days later. He knew he
should have waited longer, but he hadn’t been able to forget the violinist.
Three days had seemed like an eternity.

James handed his calling card, which bore his full
title—James Bradford, Baron of Riverside—to the butler and was quickly shown
into Sir Cade Edward’s study. The baronet stood as he entered, offering his
hand.

“Lord Riverside, how nice to see you. May I enquire as to
the purpose of your visit?” The older man’s eyes were flinty. James knew Edward
hated that he was a baron whereas Edward was a mere baronet.

“I dropped by to thank you for the invitation to your
daughter’s debutante ball, Sir Cade. It was truly lovely.” James couldn’t help
but emphasize their difference in status by addressing him as Sir—etiquette
declared it the appropriate title for a baronet, whereas James, as a baron, was
lucky enough to be called Lord.

The man flushed a mottled puce, which contrasted badly with
his foppish blond hair that was beginning to gray. “Of course, milord. My wife
and I were grateful for your presence.” Edward smiled but his teeth were
clenched.

They spent a few minutes making small talk about Parliament
and the recent changes in the economy. Edward began to grow antsy, so James
brought up his real purpose for visiting. “I enjoyed your ball tremendously.
The music was especially wonderful. May I ask how I can contract the musicians?
I’m planning on having a few small balls this Season.”

Edward smiled darkly. “I’ll write down the addresses at
which the pianist and clarinetist can be reached. The violinist, however, is a
member of my own estate, due to a large debt he owes me.”

“Is that so? Would it be possible for me to hire him from
you?”

Edward shook his head. “I’m afraid not. My daughter grew up
listening to his music, and I’d always planned for him to play for her
debutante balls.”

“I’d pay you enough that you could hire someone else,” said
James. He knew he sounded anxious, but he didn’t care. Something about the
violinist entranced him and he wanted the chance to get closer to him.

Edward seemed as though he were contemplating the offer, but
James tried not to get his hopes up. Sure enough, Edward refused. “Having him
play exclusively for my balls will serve me far better than money ever could.”

Good music could make a ball, but that seemed a bit extreme.
Still, James knew what Edward needed: connections for his daughter. “Perhaps a
trade would be more in order?”

Edward visibly perked up. “What kind of trade?”

James fought a grin. “My manservant plays the piano, flute,
and clarinet extraordinarily well. I’ve had him tutored in instruments since he
was a young boy, but I would like him to learn at least the rudiments of violin
playing. In exchange for your violinist staying at my manor and providing daily
lessons to the boy, I will loan you my manservant for your balls. He would
present a good image to your guests, I promise.” And James would have access to
the violinist every single day.

Edward frowned. “It would be nice to have a larger variety
of music, which his skills would afford me...”

“I would also, of course, offer your family a standing
invitation to all of my events this Season.”

“Will you be having many soirees?” Edward’s eyes glittered
with greed. Miss Edward would be able to meet titled men at James’ events,
giving Edward the chance to secure a prominent husband for his daughter. James
had known Cade Edward for years, and the man never stopped trying to secure a
higher social standing for himself.

“I’m planning on three or four balls and a good many small
dinners with friends. This is the ten-year anniversary of my mother’s death,
and she always loved the Social Season. Filling Riverside Manor with gaiety
will be a tribute to her memory.” It was the truth, and it worked well for
James’ purposes. He didn’t think it would matter to Edward, but he added,
“That’s why I want to contract your violinist. The violin was my mother’s
favorite instrument.”

Edward ran his hand through his hair. “Your mother was a
gentlewoman, God rest her soul.” James lowered his head as if saddened to
remember her passing, but it was really to hide a frown. Edward, barely out of
mourning for his first wife’s death in childbirth, had attempted to court the
Dowager Lady Riverside a mere week after she stopped wearing her widow’s weeds.
His mother had been a gentlewoman, but she had still cursed the man many times
over for his callous actions.

“I’ll gladly allow you to hire my musician, so long as both
he and your manservant are made available to play for each of my balls,” Edward
continued. “There is, of course, the matter of a contract.”

James took a moment to grin while Edward couldn’t see his
face. He straightened his expression and raised his head. “I’d be happy to sign
one. Do you have time to write it now?”

“Yes, yes.” Edward had already placed a sheet of paper on
the desk before him. “I’ll make this short...”

Edward scribbled down the terms of the deal and handed it to
James to read. He corrected a few things, and when they had both agreed upon
the terms and the price to hire the violinist and signed two identical copies
of it, they stood and shook hands.

“I’m glad that I was able to visit today, Sir Cade. I do
believe everything will work out wonderfully.”

Edward agreed and escorted him to the door, where James’
carriage stood waiting.

James took his coat from the butler. “Good day, sir.”

“Good day, milord,” replied Edward.

James was halfway down the steps before something occurred
to him. He turned halfway around so he could see the door. “Sir Cade, I didn’t
think to inquire before, but what is your violinist’s name?”

“Sheamus.” Edward’s eyes gleamed. “Sheamus Flynn.”

CHAPTER TWO

Sheamus stared across the bed at the wall. Edward moved
above him, his body rocking into Sheamus’ and slamming him into the bed over
and over. There was pain, of course, but it was no worse than normal.

Sheamus closed his eyes, the flowers in the wallpaper fading
into darkness. He had learned to let the music in his head envelop him,
removing him from the outside world. A whisper of a song drifted past and he
grasped it, drowning himself in Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. The lonely
introduction pulled him away from the bedroom and into a peaceful world far
removed from his own.

He remained in that world until a familiar grunt told him
Edward had finished. Edward collapsed on top of Sheamus and tried to bury his
nose in Sheamus’ hair. He flinched away as soon as he touched it. “Your hair is
disgusting!”

Sheamus had covered the dark strands in animal fat the cook
had given him, but he didn’t dare tell Edward that. “I apologize, master. I
haven’t washed it recently.” It had been an attempt to keep the man from
holding Sheamus close after he’d used him. Sheamus could fall into his music
during the act itself, but the moments spent in the man’s arms were inescapable.
When he was younger Edward had used the time to forcibly bring him off, but
thankfully, he no longer bothered with that.

“Well, wash it tonight. You’re going to the Riverside manor
tomorrow, and I don’t want him sending you back because you’re unclean.” Edward
rolled out of the bed, grunting when his feet hit the floor. “Go start packing.
You’ll be there for a few months.”

This was the first time Sheamus had heard anything about
leaving the manor. “Master, why am I being sent there?” He sat up gingerly and
found the pain was bearable. He sighed and rose to his feet, dragging his
clothes back on over his sore body.

“Lord Riverside has decided that he wants you to tutor his
musician. You’ll be there the majority of the Season, except when you’re playing
at my balls.” Edward was wearing his dressing gown when Sheamus turned to him.
“Fix your hair. You know better than to leave looking like that.”

Sheamus nodded and smoothed down his slimy hair, grimacing
inwardly at the feel of it. “Yes, master.”

Edward waved his hand toward the door. “Go on then.”

Sheamus bowed deeply. He exited the room, closing the door
softly behind him, and then headed for the servant’s quarters. Once he had
reached his room, Sheamus stripped off his clothing and stepped into the tub of
warm water left waiting for him, probably by Adam. The man cared too much for
other people; it would be his downfall one day.

Sheamus luxuriated in the water, using the bar of soap on
his nightstand to wash out the grease. He was glad it had kept Edward away, but
he wouldn’t be able to do it often. Thankfully, he would have nearly an entire
summer before he would have to submit to the man again.

It was illogical to dream of things that could never be, but
Sheamus found himself imagining a life at the manor of Lord Riverside. He
hadn’t been off Edward’s land in years, so he had no idea what the manor would
look like. Even if Lord Riverside required Sheamus to perform every day it
would still be a wonderful vacation—Sheamus played daily anyway. Music was his
escape.

The water grew cold. Sheamus hoisted himself out of the tub,
shivering in the icy room. April was still a bit chilly, especially at night,
but Edward refused to let the servants have fires past the end of February.
Sheamus pulled on some long underwear and his clothing, so that he could take
the tub outside to dump it.

Adam Harris was entering his room across the hall as Sheamus
exited his. “Can I help you with that?” he asked.

Sheamus’ arms were already aching and his body was feeling
the pain of Edward’s rough treatment. “Yes, thank you.”

Adam grasped one of the handles on the tin tub, holding it
steady while Sheamus grasped the other. “I overheard Edward speaking with Lord
Riverside earlier. You’ll be going to the Lord’s manor for the rest of the
Season.” He shot a glance at Sheamus over the dirty water. “Did you know?”

Sheamus nodded stiffly. “The master told me a little while
ago.”

Adam looked away. “Is it wrong of me to wish you weren’t
going?”

With Sheamus gone, the person Edward would call to his bed
most often would be Adam. “No. It’s understandable.”

They reached the door to the outside and Adam opened it.
After pouring the water onto a flowerbed in silence, they headed inside.
Halfway back to their rooms, Adam spoke again. “I can’t turn him down, not with
Lucy counting on me.”

“You needn’t explain yourself to me.” Sheamus opened his
door. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Harris. Sleep well.”

Adam snorted and opened his own door. “As if I could sleep
knowing he might call for me at any minute.” His door slammed shut before
Sheamus could answer, not that any response he could give would make the
situation more palatable.

Sheamus entered his room and shut the door firmly behind
him. There was no lock; Edward did not allow them. He stripped off his
clothing, but left his long underwear on, and slipped on a nightshirt. Lighting
a candle, he set it next to his music stand and removed his violin from its
case. Ever since he was little, Sheamus had played a song before bed, as his
mother had. His lullabies had been played on the very instrument he held. He
smoothed his hand over the neck and plucked a few strings. The D string was a
little loose, so he twisted its peg to tighten it and bring the instrument into
tune. Once that was done, he shuffled through his sheet music and pulled out
Mozart’s Violin Sonata No. 21. The music was well worn and Sheamus didn’t
actually need it, but the feel of it in his hands brought back memories of his
mother attempting to teach him to read the notes on the staff.

He supposed it was rude to play the instrument so late at
night, but no one had ever complained, so he continued.

He placed the music on the stand and settled the violin
under his chin. The groove fit him perfectly, a testament to how often the
instrument was used. He ran the bow across the strings a few times, making sure
the instrument was in proper condition, and then he launched into the song with
a vengeance.

His mother had played this song when she was angry and did
not want others to know. He could remember her playing it late into the night
when his father came home drunk and empty handed, unable to get a job as an
Irishman, and during the days they spent huddled in a small inn, playing for
food and shelter in the inn’s barn. The money listeners paid them was never
enough for a warm bed inside the inn, but the innkeepers were sometimes kind
enough to offer them a place by the fire in the kitchen instead of in the hay
with the animals.

He let his anger flow through the strings. It was a sad
piece, and not an angry one, and that was what made it perfect. His mother had
hidden her rage in the bittersweet notes, as Sheamus did now. He knew the
others in this wing of the manor could hear the song. They would think him
broken and bitter, but he wasn’t. He could care less what they thought. He was
strong and his mother’s memory strengthened him further.

The bow continued to dance over the strings, Sheamus’ anger
pushing it along. He could feel the music begin to speed up as he grew more
enraged, but he slowed his breathing and the bow. Towards the end of the song,
he let his bow grow slower and slower until the last note reverberated across
the room. As it faded away, so too did his rage.

He sighed and returned the violin and the music to their
places. Standing and stretching, Sheamus remembered Edward’s admonishment to
pack up that night. He looked around the room. Aside from his clothing and
violin, there wasn’t much to take. His mother’s shawl and his father’s family
bible were all that were left of his memories.