The Princess and the Pauper Read Online Free PDF Page B

honored everywhere except his
hometown.”
    “ What’s that?”
    “ Nothing. Grab that bottle of
wine , Harry.
We must celebrate.”
    In truth, Grey wasn’t in a
festive mood. One thought had tormented him throughout the
performance. Was she in the audience? He had played as if she were. He had
played for her. It was his greatest triumph because he had put all
his anger, all his regret into the instrument, treated the
instrument as if it were her, and he was spent. He had nothing left
to give, not even a celebratory hurrah for achieving his childhood
dream.
    Harry swiped the bottle of wine. “It’ll be
in all the broadsheets tomorrow. Soon you’ll play for Her
Majesty!”
    Grey snorted at that. He had
toured the world over, playing for commoners and royals alike. The
broadsheets at home had always reviled him for his “continental”
morals, much looser than those of England. And it was often
prophesized he would never play on English soil. But when morals had gotten
in the way of fashion, fashion had won. Grey Rees was the height of
fashion. Londoners could not snub him any longer without taking on
the dreaded stigma of being behind the times.
    “ Where shall we go to
celebrate? ”
asked Harry. “White’s? Brooks’s? Boodle’s?”
    Having no interest in any of the
aforementioned gentlemen’s clubs, Grey shook his head.
    “ Then what about one of these
invitations?” Harry plucked a card from one of the many floral
arrangements. “Surely one of these must tempt you?”
    “ I’m afraid not, my
friend.”
    “ You’re a bore! How dreadful. You
mustn’t let word of it leak to the press or you’ll be
ruined.”
    But Grey had already been ruined once—and
survived—so the threat of a similar fate had no merit. He shrugged.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Harry.”
    “ You don’t appear the least bit
sorry. You’re taking the part of a brooding artist, suffering from
ennui too far. It isn’t healthy. Or profitable.”
    “ I don’t need more money.”
    “ Don’t you dare blaspheme!
One always needs more money.”
    “ I’m just tired,
Harry.”
    Tired in his mind, his
bones and his
soul. He’d depended on grit and bile to get him through tonight’s
performance, and now that it was over, there was nothing left to
drive him, to inspire him, only the hollow thought of more tours,
snobbery and heartless flattery.
    The other man sighed. “At least
come home with me and visit Mama. She hounds me, Grey—hounds
me!—for your company.”
    But Grey was even less
interested in Lady Hickox, his mistress. She had rescued him from obscurity and
launched his musical career abroad. She had taught him about
business and pleasure, but he had grown tired of her, as
well.
    “ Give your mother my
deepest regard, but I must decline.”
    Harry rubbed the back of his
neck in obvious discomfort. “She’s going to cut me off, Grey. I’m
her youngest. I’ve no fortune to inherit. I live entirely off her
good graces. And I’ll not remain in her good graces if you don’t visit her soon.
Can’t you two lovebirds patch things up?”
    “ I’m afraid I can’t prostitute
myself for you tonight.”
    “ And why the devil not? You’ve no
other plans this evening.”
    Grey downed the wine in his glass. “I’ve
plans after all, it seems.” He snatched the first invitation in
reach and passed over the gold embossed lettering. “At
Woodward’s.”
    ~ * ~
    Grey scanne d the smoky interior of
Woodward’s Gentlemen’s Club with indifference. The bright red walls
and dark wood paneling hinted at a high-class brothel. A woman’s
laughter from one of the anterooms confirmed it.
    Though he had no interest in gaming or
whoring, Grey wasn’t prepared to go home, either. To be alone. Not
tonight. The night he had achieved his greatest dream and no
meaningful soul had shared it with him, save Harry, who was more a
court jester than a confidant.
    No, Grey would sit with a bottle of brandy
and watch other men fall to ruins. The