Smiling in anticipation of a pleasant interlude exchanging knowledge and opinions with Arthur, Frederick ambled down the central aisle toward the distant counter, set to one side at the rear of the shop; as he went, he glanced at the music sheets displayed on either side.
The shop was long; he was halfway down the aisle before he looked ahead and saw a lady standing before the counter in earnest conversation with old Arthur.
A lady with glossy dark-auburn hair and familiar curves, today clothed in a walking dress the color of burnished gold.
Frederick slowly continued down the aisle, quietly marveling. How had she known he would turn up there?
She couldn’t have—which suggested she had her own reason for calling at Arthur’s.
Curiosity burgeoning, Frederick went forward to join her.
As he approached the counter, Arthur’s eyes shifted his way, then the old man’s face creased in a genial smile.
Following Arthur’s gaze, Stacie turned, and her eyes widened in genuine surprise. “Good afternoon, my lord.” She glanced back at Arthur, then returned her gaze to Frederick. “I take it you’re a patron of this august establishment, too.”
“Indeed.” Frederick halted at the counter, nodded a greeting to Arthur, then met Stacie’s eyes. “I’ve been coming here since schooldays.” He arched a brow at her. “You?”
She smiled. “Since I was in the schoolroom.”
“Aye—I’ve known you both since you each were only just tall enough to see over this counter.” Old Arthur patted the worn countertop and smiled at them. Then he said to Frederick, “I was just telling her ladyship here that I’ve heard we should have the next installment in Mendelssohn’s ‘Songs without Words’—Book Five, that’ll be—later this year.”
Frederick looked at Stacie. “Have you been collecting them?”
She nodded. “And you?”
“Of course—it’s Mendelssohn and friends. So what did you think of Book Four?”
“I particularly like the adagio and the allegro vivace from that collection.”
He nodded approvingly. “They do stand out.”
She opened her blue eyes at him. “What composers do you favor?”
Unsurprisingly given the company, that question led to a lengthy discussion of the comparative merits of the compositions of composers ranging from Beethoven to Schubert, Liszt, Schumann, and Chopin, to the aforementioned Mendelssohn.
Frederick finally admitted a partiality for Schumann’s “Fantasie in C Major.” “That reminds me—I’ve been meaning to pick up a copy of Chopin’s ‘Ballade Number Four.’” He looked at Arthur. “I don’t suppose you have one?”
Arthur grimaced. “I’d love to oblige, my lord, but that one’s hard to come by. I don’t have a copy in stock.”
Frederick tapped the counter. “Put one on order for me, please.”
“Of course, my lord.” Arthur reached beneath the counter and brought out his order book.
Frederick felt Stacie’s gaze and looked her way, brows arching in question.
She smiled. “If you’re keen to try your hand at it, I have a copy. I’d be happy to lend it to you.”
He waited, but she didn’t put any condition on the offer. Didn’t utter the words if you’ll agree to play at my recital.
Slowly, his eyes locked with hers, he inclined his head. “Thank you. I might just take you up on that.”
“Right, then.” Arthur shut his order book. “As usual, I’ll send notes around to you both when your pieces come in.”
The door of the shop opened, admitting a harassed-looking lady and two schoolboys. The boys were arguing over who had priority in choosing what music they should take to their tutor’s next lesson.
Arthur’s attention shifted to the newcomers.
Frederick lightly touched Stacie’s arm. “If you’re ready, I’ll see you to your carriage.”