Read Online The Music Box by Andrea Kane - Free Book Online Page B

trying to understand her, and she resolved that this time she would not attempt to evade him. After all, he had no way of knowing how painful the incident was that had brought her to Nevon Manor. Besides, he’d been so kind; she owed him her honesty. Very well, she’d merely answer his question, then put the subject to rest. “My parents were killed in a fire when I was five,” she stated, keeping her voice even, her gaze fixed on Bryce’s silk necktie. “The fire occurred at Whitshire, destroying the servants’ quarters and everyone in them. My father was the duke’s head groom; he and my mother were trapped in their quarters when the blaze tore through. Its cause was never determined. It could have been anything: an overturned lantern, a smoldering cheroot—Lord only knows. I haven’t returned to Whitshire since the day my parents died—which is why I’ve never visited the estate with Aunt Hermione.”
    “Dear God.” Bryce’s voice sounded strangled, and Gaby could feel her composure slip.
    She pushed on, determined to have done with it. “The important thing is, Aunt Hermione took me in, gave me a whole new life and a deluge of love. When I first arrived at Nevon Manor, I was devastated; I had no one and nothing. Now I have a family. Despite my loss, I feel incredibly blessed.”
    There, she’d said it.
    “I’m so terribly sorry.” Sympathy—and something more—rumbled through Bryce’s deep voice. “Hermione told me you were orphaned, but she never mentioned how … or where.” He sucked in his breath, jumping to his feet and pacing restlessly about, surprising Gaby with the intensity of his reaction. “I didn’t mean to pry or to make you recall difficult memories.” He came to an abrupt halt, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring broodingly down at her.
    To Gaby’s mortification, hot tears sprang to her eyes. “You didn’t pry; you asked. Nor did you make me recall difficult memories. I think about Mama and Papa all the time, with no instigation from anyone.” Self-consciously, she brushed the tears from her cheeks. “But after all these years I generally think about them with a full heart and dry eyes. I haven’t a clue as to why I’m crying now. I suppose pondering something and giving voice to it are two different things.” She inhaled, brought herself under control. “Honestly, I’m quite recovered, thanks to Aunt Hermione.”
    “There are some things from which one never fully recovers.”
    Startled by his fervent proclamation, Gaby raised her chin, her gaze darting back to his as a glimmer of realization sparked. “You’re right,” she replied softly. “What’s more, you’re speaking from firsthand experience, aren’t you?”
    “Yes. I am.”
    “You were orphaned at a young age as well, were you not?”
    “When I was ten, yes. But my situation was far less traumatic than yours. My parents, like so many other people, died of influenza. I mourned their loss—deeply—but it didn’t destroy my life. I wasn’t even living at home when they died. I was at Eton.”
    “Being on one’s own and being alone are two entirely different things,” Gaby inserted quietly. “Before your parents’ death, you’d been on your own. Afterward you were alone.”
    Silently Bryce ingested her words, a veiled expression crossing his face. “You’re right,” he agreed at length. “I was alone.”
    “Then why didn’t Aunt Hermione—” Gaby bit her lip to silence the unwelcome question. “Never mind. I won’t ask.”
    “Thank you.”
    She inclined her head. “You’re an intriguing man, Mr. Lyndley. I know so much about you and, at the same time, so little.”
    “You’re far less in the dark than I,” he reminded her, resting his elbow atop the piano. “And you did promise to answer all my questions.”
    “Yes, I did, didn’t I?” Gaby’s smile returned, impish and teasing. “And I shall— if you’ll do the same for me.”
    Bryce’s lips twitched, although