And a streak of subterranean viciousness that had to be experienced to be believed.
“I beg your pardon,” she said. “But some of us need to sleep so that we can get up early in the morning.”
He stopped playing and looked at her oddly. It took another moment to register that he wasn't looking at her but at Croesus.
“Is that Croesus?” He frowned.
“It is.”
He left the piano bench and came next to her, studying Croesus, his frown deepening. “What's the matter with him?”
She glanced down. Croesus seemed no different from how he usually was. “Nothing,” she said, her voice sharp with defensiveness. She liked to think that she provided Croesus a happy, comfortable life. “He's as well as an old dog can be.”
Croesus was ten and a half years of age, his once lustrous coat now dull and gray. His eyes were rheumy. He drooped, wheezed, tired easily, and ate poorly. But when he did have an appetite, he dined on foie gras sprinkled with sautéed mushrooms. And in ill health he was attended by London's best veterinarian.
Camden reached out toward Croesus. “Come here, old bloke.”
Croesus regarded him with drowsy eyes. He didn't move. But neither did he protest when Camden simply took him.
“Do you remember me?” he said.
“I highly doubt it.”
Camden ignored her snippy answer. “I've two pups in New York.” He spoke to Croesus. “Hannah and Bernard, a rambunctious pair. They would be pleased to meet you someday.”
She didn't understand why information so mundane and unremarkable as his having dogs should cause her a moment of scorching pain.
“I see you don't remember me.” He gave the fur behind Croesus's ear a wistful scratch. “I have missed you.”
“I'd like to have him back,” Gigi said coldly.
He complied, but not before holding Croesus close and kissing one of the old dog's ears. “Your piano needs to be tuned.”
“Nobody plays it.”
“A shame.” He turned his head and gave the instrument an appreciative glance. “An érard piano should be played.”
“You can take it with you when you go back to New York. A divorce present.” She had ordered it as a wedding present for him. But it hadn't arrived until months after he left.
His gaze returned to her. “Thank you, I might. Especially since it already has my initials inscribed.”
He was standing close enough that she imagined she could smell him, the scent of a man after midnight—naked skin under silk dressing gown. “Get to it, will you?” she murmured. “All this sexual skittishness is not very attractive in a man.”
“Yes, yes, I'm well aware. But the fact remains, I'm loath to touch you.”
“Turn off all the lights. Pretend I'm someone else.”
“That would be difficult. You tend to be vocal.”
She colored. She couldn't help it. “I'll sew my lips shut.”
He shook his head slowly. “It's no use. You breathe and I'll know it's you.”
Ten years ago she'd have taken it for a declaration of love. Her heart still gave a throb, a lonely echo.
He bowed. “One more piece and I'm off to bed.”
As she left, he began playing something as soft and haunting as the last roses of summer. She recognized it in two bars: Liebestr?ume. He and Mrs. Rowland had played it together that first night of their acquaintance. Even Gigi, incompetent musician that she was, could pick out that melody on the piano with one hand.
Dream of Love. All that she ever had with him.
Mrs. Rowland's campaign to woo the duke had hit a snag.
For a day or so, things went terribly well. The case of Chatêau Lafite went promptly to Ludlow Court. A gracious thank-you note came back just as promptly, accompanied by a basket of apricot and peach preserves from Ludlow Court's own orchards.
Then nothing. Victoria sent an invitation to the duke for her next charity gala. He gave a generous cheque, but declined to attend the event. Two days later, she plucked up the audacity to call upon Ludlow Court in person, only to be told that the duke was not at home.
It'd been five years since she resettled in Devon in her childhood house, which she'd purchased from her nephew. Five years during which to observe the duke's comings and goings. She knew perfectly well that he never went anywhere else except for his daily walk.
Which left her no choice but to intercept him during his walk again.