Sophie's Voice (Sex and the Season Book 4) (2 page)

Lily continued to laugh uproariously until little Morgan stirred in her arms and she quieted. “Where on earth did you learn that trick? I've got to use it on Daniel.”

Even Rose joined in, smiling. “It was all in good fun, Sophie,” she said. “And you do have such a lovely voice. Why don't you audition?”

Sophie wasn't one to get angry, but a bit of passion stirred within her. They'd made her look like an idiot. How had she allowed herself to be duped like this? “I'm afraid it's absolutely out of the question.”

“Don't be angry. It was all in sport,” Ally said. “I am your sister, and I love you. I would never ask you to do anything that wasn't for your own good. You need to get off of this estate. You need to have something to do that you enjoy. You love singing, and auditioning for the musicale will at least get you out for a few hours tomorrow.”

“Cam can give you a ride in when he goes to the theatre tomorrow,” Rose said.

“Oh, no, I wouldn't want to be a bother.”

“You're no bother.”

Sophie shook her head. “Why am I talking about this as if I'm going to do it?”

Ally smiled. “Because, dear Sophie, you are the finest lady I know, one who would always pay her debts. And I'm afraid you lost a bet to me, and payment of your debt to me is to audition for Mr. Newland tomorrow.”

“I…” Sophie looked away. Ally might have tricked her, but she had fallen for it. “Fine. I shall audition for Mr. Newland. But I know I will fall flat on my face, so can you all promise me one small thing?”

“Of course,” Rose said. “What?”

“Once I make a fool of myself at this audition, can we please never speak of me singing in public again?”

S
ophie gulped
. The scone she had forced down at breakfast had tasted like sawdust, and now it was threatening to reappear. Rose's husband, Cameron, had driven her into Bath this morning for the auditions. Cameron was the composer for the Regal Theatre and spent his time at his townhome in Bath during the theatre season. The upcoming musicale was an original work written by Cameron, and he had told Sophie during the drive to Bath that she was perfect for the leading female role.

Not possible. A woman who vomited on stage couldn't be perfect for anything.

Before Sophie knew what was happening, Cameron had ushered her through the lobby of the theatre, around a few winding hallways, to an office.

She gaped. A man stood behind a desk reading a news journal. Auburn hair graced his shoulders, and his light brown eyes glowed. He was splendid, with exotic looks that she might not have considered classically handsome had they belonged to anyone else. But this man? Oh, how they worked. Her heart beat rapidly.

Zachary Newland. She had actually seen the gifted actor perform once nearly a year ago as Puck in
A Midsummer Night's Dream
. Then he had been costumed as a wood elf, a wreath of twigs on his head and his glorious chest bare. His acting had been so true to character that she had begun to think of him as a wood sprite, despite his immense and golden masculinity.

Not so anymore. The man was not as tall as her stepfather or brother-in-law, Evan, but his presence filled the room. Broad shoulders were clad in only a billowy-sleeved white blouse that belonged several centuries ago. Tight britches gloriously hugged his hips and thighs. Her heart nearly stopped. The man belonged on a pirate ship, carrying a maiden down to his quarters—a maiden with blond hair and hazel eyes. The image came alive in her mind, and the maiden had Sophie's own face.

“Newland, I'd like you to meet my wife's cousin, Lady Sophie MacIntyre,” Cameron said.

Sophie looked up, her pirate vision vanishing. Cameron had been speaking, introducing her.
Open your mouth, Sophie. Say something
.

“It is indeed my pleasure, my lady.” Zach put down the paper, walked around his desk, and offered his hand. “Thornton, here, speaks highly of you and your talent.”

Sophie warmed from her hair follicles down to the tips of her toes. Surely she was turning beet red. She held out her hand limply. Mr. Newland took it in his own, raised it to his lips, and brushed a light kiss over it.

Sophie squirmed. Her skin erupted in tingles, and new sensations skittered within her. What was going on?

“It is indeed my pleasure, sir.” She drew her hand away.

“Cameron tells me this is your first audition.”

Sophie nodded.

“We'll try to make it easy on you,” Mr. Newland said. “Cam will be right there, playing the pianoforte for you. What will you be singing for us today?”

Sophie held out the wrinkled paper she had been clenching in her hand. She willed herself not to stammer. “‘Deh Vieni, Non Tardar.' Susanna's aria from
The Marriage of Figaro
. By Mozart.”

“Yes, yes, quite familiar with it. A beautiful piece. Let's go out into the theatre, and we will begin your audition. I hope you don't mind. I'm doing auditions in the theatre this time instead of the green room.”

Green room? No need to show him what a novice she truly was. She nodded. “That's fine.”

“I want to hear everyone with the theatre's acoustics. Just give your music to Thornton.”

The paper rustled quietly as she handed it to Cameron.

“Don't be nervous,” Cameron whispered as they left the office. “I've asked him to let you audition first so you don't have to sit around all day and wait. I have to stay for the duration, though, so I'll hire a hansom cab to drive you back to the estate.”

Sophie gasped. “I have to go first?”

Cam nodded. “Trust me, it's for the best. This is your first audition. If you went second or third or, God forbid, last, you would sit here all day and your nerves would get the best of you. You would have to hear all of the other singers, and you would find something better in their voices than what you have in your own. You would be wrong, of course. Your voice is unique and engaging, Sophie. But I know how timid you are, and it would not be good for you to listen to the other auditions.”

She nodded, her tummy gurgling. He was undoubtedly right…but first? “Cameron, I don't know that I can go through with this. I honestly…feel quite ill at the moment.”

“That's just nerves. Trust me, I have been to my share of auditions in my lifetime. The belly flutters never go away. But you can do this. Just breathe deeply, concentrate, and pretend you're at home, singing alone in the conservatory.”

“I don't know…”

“I will be here with you. I'll be playing for you. If you feel yourself losing focus, just look over to me, and I will get you back to where you need to be.”

Sophie inhaled and let her breath out slowly, willing her heart to stop stampeding. “All right. I will do my best. Ally really wants me to do this, and she must know what she's doing. Maybe.”

“She does.” Cam nodded. “Newland is ready for you. He's sitting out in the theatre where the acoustics are best.”

Sophie glanced out. Yes, there he was, looking as amazing as ever. She wished she hadn't looked. Perhaps if she could pretend she was singing to empty space, this would be easier.

She turned back to Cam. “One more thing. What is a green room?”

Cam smiled. “It's a room off the theatre for the performers when they're not on stage.”

Sophie nodded. Of course. She should have known that. She should know a lot of things if she was going to go through with this. She was so out of place here.

“Walk out on stage now,” Cam urged.

She swallowed, gathered as much confidence as she could muster—which wasn't much—and strode onto the stage.

“Everything all right, my lady?” Mr. Newland said from the audience.

Sophie cleared her throat softly. “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Whenever you're ready, then.”

Sophie glanced at Cameron, who had sat down at the pianoforte. “Are you ready, Sophie?”

She inhaled again, more deeply this time, and blew out her breath in a slow stream, closing her eyes. She loved the aria, knew it by heart, and could sing it in her sleep. Slowly, she opened her eyes, looked over at Cam, and nodded.

Cameron began the introduction to the song.

Sophie opened her mouth, ready to sing, but at her musical cue, nothing came out. Her cheeks warmed, and she trembled all over. She looked back at Cam, pleading with her eyes. He stopped playing.

“My lady, is anything wrong?” Mr. Newland asked.

Goodness gracious, now what? Sophie opened her mouth to say, “Yes, something is wrong. I have no business being here,” but Cam spoke first.

“It's my fault, Newland. I made an error during the intro, and Lady Sophie wasn't able to begin at the correct time. Let's just try it again.”

“Very well,” Mr. Newland said, smiling.

Cameron had not made a mistake. Sophie knew he was covering for her, and no doubt Mr. Newland knew as well.

She swallowed. Ally had bested her in that bet, even if she had been sneaky. Naïve little Sophie would just have to do better next time. Still, she was not a dodger. She had lost the bet, and she would pay up. Time for the audition.

She turned to Cameron and mouthed, “Thank you.” Then she nodded.

Cameron began playing again.

This time, at her cue, Sophie opened her mouth and her singing words emerged. She sang of fearful anxieties, of amorous fires, of little flowers laughing, calling her love to her, and soon she was back in the conservatory at the estate, singing for no one's pleasure but her own. The notes on the pianoforte hummed in her ears as she became one with them. Her voice soared, and with it so did she, to a better place, the place she always escaped to when she sang. The music took her away—the melodies, the harmonies—and she floated upward, onto a cloud, a cloud where no one could harm her. All fueled by her own voice.

When the last word of the song dripped from her lips, she bowed her head, closing her eyes. Nothingness enveloped her, and peace surrounded her.

Until the clapping of Cameron and Mr. Newland and the rest of the actors in the audience thundered into her ears.

“Brava!” a gentleman yelled from the audience.

Soon more “bravas” echoed throughout the theatre. When the excitement died down, Mr. Newland stood, speaking from his seat in the audience.

“My lady, that was profound. Your voice is captivating and unique. May I ask where you studied?”

Sophie's lips trembled. “I didn't.”

“Really, you don't say? Another self-taught prodigy, then, like our own Lord Thornton here.”

“When I was quite young, I had lessons on the pianoforte, and my instructor coached me on vocal technique. But before long…” She couldn't go on. The truth was, before long, her mother had no longer been able to afford her lessons. Sophie didn't like to think about her childhood. Her father had been abusive to her, Ally, and their mother. Each year they'd had a little less, due to his negligence in handling estate affairs, and eventually they hadn't been able to live on the estate at all. They moved into town and lived in near poverty. When her father, the Earl of Longarry, passed away three years prior, they had come to England, where their mother's sister, the Countess of Ashford, had set them up in a townhome in Mayfair. Soon thereafter, their mother, Iris, had met the love of her life, David, the Earl of Brighton.

“And before long…what?” Mr. Newland asked.

She cleared her throat. “Before long…I guess I just lost interest in music.”
Oh, Sophie, what a horrendous lie
. She hated lying. Especially to Mr. Newland, although she wasn't quite certain why. Something about him…

“Well, despite your loss of interest, I can see you excel at it nonetheless. I thank you very much for singing for us today. Auditions will go on today and tomorrow. Parts will be posted here at the theatre two days hence.”

Sophie nodded, unsure what to do. She looked to Cameron, who gestured with his head for her to leave the stage.

A few seconds later, Cameron joined her. “That was brilliant, Sophie. Truly.”

“I'm afraid I made a horrible fool of myself. I had no idea what I was doing.”

“You did fine. Everyone is nervous at the first audition. Actually, everyone is nervous at every audition. You sang beautifully, and I could tell that Newland was impressed. I have to get back to auditions, but I've arranged for a cabbie to meet you at the front of the theatre. He will take you back to the estate.”

Sophie gulped. “Thank you, Cam. Having you here made it a little less nerve-racking.”

Cameron smiled and walked back onto the stage.

Sophie heaved a sigh of relief. Whether roles were posted two days hence was irrelevant. She had fulfilled her bargain with Ally and auditioned. She was now done. Back to her life of spinsterhood. The thought calmed her.

Calm was good.

Z
ach squirmed
in his theatre seat.

What was it about that woman? She had dressed conservatively in a dark-green day gown, plain and simple. Small wisps and curls of blond hair feathered out from the severe bun holding the rest of her coif tight. Her eyes—brown. Or were they green? Brown with green flecks, a few golden sparkles too. Eyes that could hold a man captive. Such a delicate little figure, but lush in all the right places.

Yes, she was beautiful, but she didn't know how truly beautiful she was. Something held her back. She trembled as though she wished she were invisible—like a wood sprite who had appeared from another realm and might vanish in an instant. She lacked confidence and courage—that was clear.

But that voice… He had never heard anything quite like it. Angels had come down from heaven and sung through this nervous woman.

Nanette was up next for her audition. She was also a soprano, and though quite talented, her voice was nothing compared to Lady Sophie's. Zach had to see her before she left, had to tell her how moved he had been by her audition.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, standing, “we're going to take a short respite. Miss Lloyd, you're next. Go ahead and use this time to warm up with Lord Thornton at the piano.”

“But Zach…” Nanette whined.

Zach didn't respond. Instead, he rushed out of the theatre and into the lobby. No sign of Lady Sophie. Looking out the door, he spied her getting into a hansom cab. The cabbie had taken her hand and was helping her into the coach.

He pushed the heavy glass door open and ran forward. “My lady, wait!”

Lady Sophie turned around, her face flushing a lovely raspberry color. She arched her eyebrows.

“If I may have a moment?” he said.

“I'm sorry. I am getting ready to leave for the Brighton estate, as you can see.”

“Yes, yes.” He turned to the cabbie. “You may go on. I'll arrange for Lady Sophie's transport in a few moments.”

“Yes, sir.” The cabbie tipped his hat.

“Mr. Newland”—Sophie cleared her throat gently—“what is this about? This is highly irregular, not to mention improper.”

“Yes, my lady, and I offer you my apologies. However, I could not let you leave without telling you how thoroughly I enjoyed your audition. I would like to offer you a leading role in the new musicale.”

“How are you able to offer me anything? You haven't heard the other auditions yet.”

“I am familiar with all of the other actors and actresses who will be auditioning today. I know their voices. None of them can come close to you, my lady.”

Sophie fidgeted with her reticule. “I'm afraid, Mr. Newland, that I will be unable to accept a role in the production.”