Sir Christopher Delaney handed his hat and gloves to the groom when he followed his older brother into Aunt Felicia’s town house.
A heavy weight sat in his stomach. Why are you putting yourself through this, Kit?Aunt Felicia requested his presence, that’s why. God, if only he was back on the continent. Even the battlefields were more tolerable than one of his aunt’s musical soirées. Damn Aunt Felicia and her desire to have him vie for her inheritance along with his other penniless cousins. His presence had been requested, and from Aunt Felicia that was tantamount to an order.
George walked ahead of him. At least he had a reason to be here. Now his brother had repaired some of the crumbling estate and restored a small part of its wealth, he was looking for a wife.
There would be plenty of insipid debutantes here tonight for George to choose from. They flocked to Aunt Felicia’s musical soirées, desperate to display their talents, and snag a rich husband. They usually rolled out the same old tunes. If he had to sit through another evening of poorly played Mozart or Vivaldi he was determined to turn his back on Aunt Felicia and her money. Lord, if only he wasn’t so poor.
He needed a stiff drink if he was to get through this evening. They reached the butler, who spoke to George. “Your aunt and her guests are already in the music room, Lord Poole.”
The man had the temerity to frown at them. Kit narrowed his eyes at the butler. They were only thirty minutes late.
He trudged up the staircase behind George. The sound of the piano forte floated down to them and his ears twitched. That was not Vivaldi or Mozart; he was certain. He strained to recognise the melody which reminded him of water trickling over pebbles. He frowned at the sound of the unfamiliar notes.
The melancholy tune called to something within him. Then a voice joined the piano; a clear and delicate alto pulled him to the door of the music room.
His feet moved of their own volition, guiding him to the source of the call. He stepped into the room. George moved to the side to stand at the back, and Kit froze.
At the piano forte sat the siren that called to him. The room, the guests, blurred into nothingness. She was the only thing he could see. Her music and her voice held him captivated. His heart began to race and his chest rose and fell as though he had run a mile.
He could not take his eyes from her. She swayed in time with the music, completely immersed in her performance. Dressed in a simple, navy gown, she wore no jewellery, and her hair was drawn back from her face with no curls or ornamentation.
It was clear that this was not a debutante. Her face lacked the roundness and innocence of youth. The firm lines of her cheekbones and jaw suggested her to be at least five and twenty. She sang the words of the song, that spoke of loss and need, with and air of knowledge and experience.
The need to find out who she was surged within him. He wanted her piece to end so he could locate his aunt and demand an introduction. At the same time he did not want it to end. He wanted to stay and listen to her angelic voice while he watched her become one with the music.
Then, the last notes of her piece echoed through the room. There was a moment of haunted silence as the guests gradually awoke from their trance. Stunned applause filtered across the room and broke the spell she had cast upon them. He forced his hands to join in the applause while he watched her rise from the stool.
She turned to her captive audience, bowed her head, and curtsied to them. When she rose, her eyes found his over the heads of the guests. His heart stuttered and his hands froze while he was caught in her gaze.
Then it was gone. She looked away and his chest ached for her to look upon him once more. He stepped towards his brother whose eyes followed the woman as she reclaimed her seat in the audience. George’s palms seemed to come together in reluctant recognition of the woman’s talent. His brother’s lips formed a firm line as he glared at the back of the woman’s head.
Kit narrowed his eyes. George was clearly not as impressed with her performance.
“Do you know her?” Kit asked.
George remained still. Only the muscle in his jaw ticked. His lips barely moved when he spoke, “She is Aunt Felicia’s companion.”
Kit’s stomach dropped to the floor.
