Read Online Indiscreet by Mary Balogh - Free Book Online Page A

night and for failing to present him with a face of blushing confusion this morning.
    They had to stand and listen to Juliana murder Bach, racing through the passages she knew well, stumbling her way through the more difficult parts. To say that she had no real aptitude for music was to be extraordinarily kind to her.
    But Daphne exclaimed with delight when it was over and clapped her hands. And he found himself bowing his head and assuring her that she showed promise. Mrs. Winters, more truthful, praised the child for her effort and for the hard work she had put into learning some of the more difficult parts.
    â€œAnd those are the parts you should linger over and enjoy,” she said with consummate tact. “What a pity to rush them and have them over too soon. The other parts are coming along very nicely too. All that is needed is more time and practice. Even the most experienced concert pianist always needs that.”
    She was good with children, he conceded. He found himself wondering how long she had been married to the late Mr. Winters. Had it been just a short time or was she barren? But then, perhaps the fault had been in Winters, not in her.
    â€œI do apologize for interrupting,” Daphne was saying. “But I can see that you would have a hard time forcing them back to work. Shall we take them up to the nursery for you? On such a lovely day you would doubtless appreciate the chance to leave a little early.”
    Will looked from one to the other of the women with hope naked in his eyes. A few seconds later, at a nod from his music teacher, he was scampering from the room.
    â€œThank you,” Catherine Winters said. “I always steal half an hour for myself after the children’s lessons are over. It was Mr. Adams who suggested it. Today I will be able to take thirty-five minutes.”
    Juliana took Daphne’s hand and pulled on it, anxious to follow her brother before anyone could decide to resume the music lesson after all. Daphne looked inquiringly at her brother.
    â€œI’ll follow you in a short while,” he said.
    She nodded and disappeared with the child. He was left alone with Catherine Winters, who was standing straight-backed and square-chinned close to the pianoforte, glaring at him.
    Now, why the devil had he done that? Why had he not seized the chance to escape when it had presented itself on a golden platter?
    She was challenging him. That was what she was doing. She was not behaving with the distressed modesty he would have expected from a virtuous woman who had been presented with a very improper proposal in her own home just the evening before. He clasped his hands behind him and strolled toward her.
    â€œNurseries are not my favorite place,” he said. “I do not enjoy being climbed upon, if you will remember. And the rest of the house is not particularly inviting, either. I suppose you noticed that I am expected to pay court to a young lady I have no wish to court. I shall listen to you play, Mrs. Winters. Continue, if you please, just as if I were not here.”
    He could almost see indignant and even furious words forming in her mind and lining up for escape from her lips. Her lips twitched but did not part. He watched them. Soft, eminently kissable lips, which were going to dry up from lack of use very soon if all she intended to do with gentlemen was turn them away.
    But she did not speak. If the sparks that flashed from her eyes were daggers, he would be stretched dead on the floor already, he decided. But they were not and so he was still standing very much alive as she whirled about and sat on the bench of the pianoforte, composed herself, and began to play.
    Stern stuff indeed. He had expected at the very least that she would flounce out through the French windows and take herself off home without her usual self-indulgence on the pianoforte. Hehad even been considering whether he would offer his services as an escort and realizing that doing so