What the musicians at an event were given for refreshments varied by country, Jack had found. In Austria and in some parts of Italy, they were treated as honoured guests, welcome to eat the same supper as their audience, and even to mingle if they so desired. In other places, they might be served lukewarm tea or a light ale with, if they were lucky a slice of bread. At times, they even needed to forage for themselves, or bring their own meal and a flask of something.

Tonight’s soiree in Paris was proving to be exceptional, much to Jack’s surprise. When he was hired to perform, he expected to be ignored most of the evening. Tonight’s hostesses were a pair of English duchesses. The English, he had discovered in Vienna, tended to regard musicians as hired help, and his growing reputation as a composer made no difference to that assessment.

He thought the audience would be more focused on conversation than on music, and that he’d need the brioche in the bag he had tucked into his music satchel. He was wrong on both counts.

He had been introduced by the elder of the two duchesses, Her Grace of Winshire, who had instructed everyone to sit and listen. Which they did. They were both attentive and appreciative, and the first hour and a half flew by.

Then, when the younger duchess, a daughter-in-law of the Duchess of Winshire, announced supper, the elder led a team of servants over with supper for the orchestra, and carried Jack off to a table for two, where a tempting array of food was laid out for his selection.

He ordered ale from the waiting servant, since he never drank anything stronger when he was performing. The duchess’s preferences must already be known, for someone brought her a service of tea.

“You must be wondering why I have taken you to one side like this, John Sutton,” Her Grace said, after the ale was served and the servants retreated.

If the lady had been twenty years younger, Jack would have assumed a seduction attempt, but as it was, all he could do was incline his head in agreement.

“You are John Sutton, known as Jack, the musical second son of Baron Allbury.” She stated it as a fact. Jack could not have answered anyway. His mouth was open as he wondered how she knew.

“It is my job, Jack. May I call you Jack?” He nodded, and she continued, “I have been a duchess since I was in my teens. Knowing the peerage and all their connections is part of my obligation to my position. I was not personally acquainted with your father, but I knew your mother, a little, and a cousin of hers told me about your split from the baron, and its cause. In my opinion, having heard your music, the world would be a poorer place if you had obeyed Lord Allbury.”

Jack’s lips twitched into a smile, but he sobered, thinking of his father.

“The former Lord Allbury, that is. I am sorry for your loss, Jack. Father and brother. That is a hard blow.”

Jack rather liked this duchess. He’d known other English ladies who would be congratulating him on inheriting a barony. Not that he wanted it. Her Grace, though, started with condolences. “Thank you,” he said.

“Will you be going home?”  she asked, then gave a short laugh. “Your eyes say ‘not the old besom’s’ business’, and you are quite right.”

The twinkle in her eyes soothed his irritation and he answered her. “I have not made up my mind, Your Grace.”

“Going home is not committing yourself to accepting the burdens of the title, Jack. Why not go and have a look. Perhaps a last goodbye. Perhaps not.” She rose. “Now. I shall let you have the rest of your supper in peace.”