A dark, immaculate eyebrow rose in response to her statement that she didn’t like his tea. That was his only reaction, however, at least outwardly. Nigel was very good at schooling his face and showing only what he wished to be seen. There were those who thought he should have been sorted into Slytherin at school, but the truth was that he had gotten quite a lot of practice at keeping his demeanor emotion-free in Gryffindor. His housemates were so highly strung that any little thing could set them off at any time, and Nigel had always been one of the smaller ones, so letting hot tempers burn themselves out without adding any fuel had been beneficial to him. In business, it was a prized trait—the poker face. In truth, he was probably predisposed to it, genetically, as his mother could behave similarly, when she liked.

After fetching her the water, he settled into businessman mode. “Mrs. Warwick,” he said, without taking his eyes off the envelope or the paper he was extracting from it. “I am a terribly busy man, and I don’t like to waste my time. If there was no singing job, I would not be interviewing singers.” That was not strictly true, as Nigel’s real purpose was to interview her for her position as Nat’s wife. In case he had to start a campaign to defame her character and get her banned from society so that Nat could get a quiet divorce and find someone suitable. The things he did for his friends…

Perusing the history that she provided, he flipped the paper over, kind of at a loss as to where the rest of it was. A CV was usually much longer than a single page and had a pretty comprehensive history, including education and total work performance. Either she didn’t know how to construct a CV or else she hadn’t had much education or work. Perhaps she was a good candidate for a pureblood wife. He was pretty sure that they didn’t work much. Setting it back on his desk, he sat back in his chair, folding his hands across his stomach in easy nonchalance. “I, personally, do not do any accompanying. I am not musically inclined. However, there will be a band behind the vocalists—probably five to seven pieces. Not an orchestra, or anything. It’s meant to be more of a cozy, intimate atmosphere than a big dance. The idea is to encourage the flow of champagne and money.”

“Your… CV… Mrs. Warwick, is very vague. I would like to know more about your background. You are American, correct?” He knew that, as her accent gave her completely away. However, he couldn’t really place which part of America had produced her. He was not an expert in American dialect. “What brings you to London?” he asked her. “It looks like you have been employed in various venues, but I did not notice any long-term engagements. Have you only done isolated events? What makes you stand out from any other singers who might apply? When Wright Industries sponsors an event, they do not settle for any less than the best. Are you the best, Mrs. Warwick?”