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Authors: Lynne Connolly
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one. The one you played last.”
The scurrilous one. Could she remember the words for the sweet version? No, damn him, she could not. Only the other rang through her head, mocking her.
Stepping over the bench, he joined her, sitting by her said. “Perhaps just the tune,” he said softly. His eyes gleamed, but with wickedness.
She wanted to hit him, but all she could do was glare.
They played the two-hander. Over the tinkle of the notes, talk swelled and then faded. Someone laughed. At her, no doubt. She kept her head down as she finished the piece. Despite the smatter of applause, she felt tainted, as if caught out playing a trick.
“Goodness, that was clever,” Lady Stewart said. “My lord, I did not know you played.”
“Everybody plays,” he drawled. He turned toward the lady, allowing Viola a moment to recall herself. “Do you not?”
“No,” her ladyship said shortly. “I do not. I take it Miss Gates learned with you?”
“We learned together,” he said, “But my sisters spent more time in the music room. I believe at one time they formed a quartet, but after my mother begged them to stop, they went their separate ways.”
The marquess laughed. “Oh, yes. Each played their own version of the piece. Only Viola ever kept in time.”
“And Drusilla,” Marcus said quietly.
Dru had been a solitary child. Sandwiched between two sets of twins in birth order, she had spent much time alone. Viola recognized something of her own situation, except that Dru was alone in the middle of her family, and Viola was an only child. However the two girls had not gravitated together. For some reason their fathers worked to keep them apart, even when they were small.
Viola sometimes wondered if the cool and collected Dru had ever found someone as a particular trusted friend. Viola had her father to keep her company.
Tonight Dru’s brother was tormenting Viola, sitting next to her much closer than a gentleman should, but the cramped stool they shared necessitated that. He must know that, surely. Would he tease her so if he knew what he was doing to her? Probably not, and he must never know. She would die if he discovered how deep her feelings went for him. He’d marry a grand lady and become a marquess in the fullness of time. His wife would give him a quiverful of children for the title and estate, and they would most likely remain content.
She would be happy for him; she truly would. Heartbreak did not last forever.
Marcus got to his feet and held his hand to help her up. “Yellow suits you,” he said softly. “I like this gown. Will you wear it again for me?”
She swallowed and smiled. “Of course. You’ll see it again without a doubt. I only bought it this year, so it has to last me for a while.”
“It is extremely becoming,” Lady Stewart said, seemingly heedless of joining in a private conversation. She must have ears like a bat. “A little simple for my taste, but if you need it to last a few years, it is best to keep the style simple.” She made the decision sound like a sin. She shook back her triple ruffles. “Come and take some tea, my dear. You must be parched.”
“I find singing fills me with inspiration,” Emma said. “I shall take out my sketchbook tomorrow.”
Only Viola was close enough to hear Marcus’s soft groan. No sign of his unspoken comment appeared on his face, a skill she would dearly love to emulate. He made her smile. Far too much, if truth be told.
The party did not decide to call for carriages until nine o’clock. All that time Lady Stewart had animadverted on her daughter’s skills and their plans for the year.
It took until ten before they all left.
In the now quiet drawing room, the marquess turned to Viola. “I must thank you for this evening,” he said. “You showed a great deal of fortitude. Lady Stewart can be a little wearing. When she began on the family tree of the Scottish Stuarts, I thought she would be here all night.”
Viola dropped a
The scurrilous one. Could she remember the words for the sweet version? No, damn him, she could not. Only the other rang through her head, mocking her.
Stepping over the bench, he joined her, sitting by her said. “Perhaps just the tune,” he said softly. His eyes gleamed, but with wickedness.
She wanted to hit him, but all she could do was glare.
They played the two-hander. Over the tinkle of the notes, talk swelled and then faded. Someone laughed. At her, no doubt. She kept her head down as she finished the piece. Despite the smatter of applause, she felt tainted, as if caught out playing a trick.
“Goodness, that was clever,” Lady Stewart said. “My lord, I did not know you played.”
“Everybody plays,” he drawled. He turned toward the lady, allowing Viola a moment to recall herself. “Do you not?”
“No,” her ladyship said shortly. “I do not. I take it Miss Gates learned with you?”
“We learned together,” he said, “But my sisters spent more time in the music room. I believe at one time they formed a quartet, but after my mother begged them to stop, they went their separate ways.”
The marquess laughed. “Oh, yes. Each played their own version of the piece. Only Viola ever kept in time.”
“And Drusilla,” Marcus said quietly.
Dru had been a solitary child. Sandwiched between two sets of twins in birth order, she had spent much time alone. Viola recognized something of her own situation, except that Dru was alone in the middle of her family, and Viola was an only child. However the two girls had not gravitated together. For some reason their fathers worked to keep them apart, even when they were small.
Viola sometimes wondered if the cool and collected Dru had ever found someone as a particular trusted friend. Viola had her father to keep her company.
Tonight Dru’s brother was tormenting Viola, sitting next to her much closer than a gentleman should, but the cramped stool they shared necessitated that. He must know that, surely. Would he tease her so if he knew what he was doing to her? Probably not, and he must never know. She would die if he discovered how deep her feelings went for him. He’d marry a grand lady and become a marquess in the fullness of time. His wife would give him a quiverful of children for the title and estate, and they would most likely remain content.
She would be happy for him; she truly would. Heartbreak did not last forever.
Marcus got to his feet and held his hand to help her up. “Yellow suits you,” he said softly. “I like this gown. Will you wear it again for me?”
She swallowed and smiled. “Of course. You’ll see it again without a doubt. I only bought it this year, so it has to last me for a while.”
“It is extremely becoming,” Lady Stewart said, seemingly heedless of joining in a private conversation. She must have ears like a bat. “A little simple for my taste, but if you need it to last a few years, it is best to keep the style simple.” She made the decision sound like a sin. She shook back her triple ruffles. “Come and take some tea, my dear. You must be parched.”
“I find singing fills me with inspiration,” Emma said. “I shall take out my sketchbook tomorrow.”
Only Viola was close enough to hear Marcus’s soft groan. No sign of his unspoken comment appeared on his face, a skill she would dearly love to emulate. He made her smile. Far too much, if truth be told.
The party did not decide to call for carriages until nine o’clock. All that time Lady Stewart had animadverted on her daughter’s skills and their plans for the year.
It took until ten before they all left.
In the now quiet drawing room, the marquess turned to Viola. “I must thank you for this evening,” he said. “You showed a great deal of fortitude. Lady Stewart can be a little wearing. When she began on the family tree of the Scottish Stuarts, I thought she would be here all night.”
Viola dropped a
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