Sonata for a Scoundrel Read Online Free PDF

how much?” the father asked. “You have not said how much.”
    Dare smiled to himself. How quickly the old man had changed his tune. “Ten pounds a week.”
    The maid dropped the tea tray. The pot and remaining cups, the sad lumps of sugar, the mismatched teaspoons, all crashed to the floor.
    Dare leapt up and pulled Miss Becker with him, away from the spatter of scalding liquid and broken shards of porcelain. She half stumbled into his arms. She was soft and feminine—more curved than he would have guessed beneath her worn gown—and he was unexpectedly, blazingly, aware of her as a woman. The feel of her burned through him, hotter than the sear of his tea sloshing over the brim of his cup.
    “Mary! Take care,” the father said.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Becker.” The girl bobbed an abject curtsey. “Mistress, masters.” She gathered up the wreckage and hurried through the doorway.
    Dare took a deep breath and set Miss Becker at a safe distance. He did not need any more complications in this already fraught negotiation.
    “We beg your pardon, sir, most humbly.” Nicholas Becker’s face was red with mortification. “You are unhurt?”
    “It’s only tea.” Dare placed his cup on the nearby table and shook down his tea-dampened cuff.
    Judging from the maid’s reaction, the amount he offered was a fantastic sum to the family. No matter. He could afford it, and if the performances were received as well as he expected, he would be rewarded many times over. But the financial return was not what mattered.
    “As I was saying.” Dare looked directly at the elder Mr. Becker. “Ten pounds a week.”
    He let the words hang in the air, tempting. The older man’s eyes narrowed. Then he glanced at his son and shook his head.
    “I am sorry,” he said. “It is not possible.”
    “Fifteen,” Dare said.
    Beside him, Peter shifted as if he would speak, but Dare kept his focus on Mr. Becker. He would succeed in this.
    “Fifteen pounds.” Nicholas Becker said the words as if they were a hymn.
    “No.” The elder Mr. Becker’s voice was not so firm, this time.
    “Twenty,” Dare said. “And that includes payment for serving as my accompanist, as well. It’s my final offer.”
    Miss Becker drew in her breath, and the silence stretched one heartbeat. Two. Dare locked eyes with the old man, willing him to accept.
    “Indeed.” The father cleared his throat. “You make us an offer that is difficult to refuse.”
    “But Papa…” Miss Becker took a half step forward, her lips pressed tightly together.
    The old man waved her to silence. “Let me think.”
    Sounds drifted into the room: the high voices of children playing in the street, the distant rumble of carriage wheels. At last the father nodded.
    “We will accept your offer, but you will take both my children with you.” He thumped his cane for emphasis. “Nicholas and Clara, both.”
    “Are you quite certain?” Miss Becker asked. Her gray eyes were startled, but behind that shock something flared. Yearning. Hope.
    Dare crossed his arms. There were undercurrents here he did not understand; some family secret that lay like a sandbar, treacherously close to the surface. Was it going to wreck his plans on the shoals?
    He turned his attention to Miss Becker. She met his gaze for a moment, then flushed and dropped her eyes.
    “There is no reason to include Miss Becker in the tour,” Dare said. “Much as I dislike to say it, I fear she would be an impediment. Her brother and I will be busy, leaving no time to chaperone. This is not some pleasure jaunt, no Grand Tour of the sights where we will have leisure to squire your daughter about.”
    “Clara would not expect such a thing,” the elder Mr. Becker said. “She will keep herself, and her brother, out of harm’s way.”
    Dare raised one eyebrow. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
    The composer nervously ran his fingers over the back of the armchair, where the finish had worn off. He cleared his