Page 9 of The Musician and the Monster

Slowly she raised the flute to her lips, adjusted her grip, and began to play. He recognized the melody almost immediately, “The Nocturne of the Moon.”One of his favorites. A sad song, but also a love song. A curious choice to play for a male guest.

The notes filled the small room, echoing off the walls and consuming the space in a rush of sound. Whatever nervousness she had vanished as she played. She closed her eyes as her fingers flew over the keys, playing the tune by memory. Her form swayed gently to its rhythm as if the song consumed her body and soul. No one in the room moved. If he didn’t know better, Drystan would wager she held them all under her trance as she played, and him most of all. The music moved something in him, eased the restlessness that liked to creep up on him at the worst of times.

As the last note of the song faded away, Drystan rose from the chair and gave a long, slow clap in appreciation. Jackoby and Kent followed suit.

“Bravo, Ceridwen.”

The compliment sent a lovely blush racing to her cheeks and had her staring at Drystan’s boots once more.

Now was the time to spring his request. “I have a proposition for you. Come and play for me at the manor. I could use a resident musician, and I shall compensate you for your time.”

Ceridwen’s head snapped up, and she stared at him wide-eyed. “You’d pay me? For my music?” Her eyes sparkled, and she blinked hastily, glancing away.

A slight twitch pulled at the corner of his lips. Was the young woman about to cry over such a simple offer? “But there will be conditions,” he continued, lest her hopes get too high.

The flush faded from her cheeks in a rush. Bronwyn stared hard at Ceridwen, some unspoken words passing between the sisters.

“You will live at the manor for the duration of our arrangement—until midwinter,” he finished.

A sharp gasp cut through the room. From the housekeeper or one of the sisters, he could not say.

Mr. Kinsley frowned and shook his head. “It would not be proper for an unmarried woman to live in a man’s house, even yours, my lord.”

“That is my condition.” He couldn’t have her coming and going, spreading who knew what kind of gossip to the ladies of the city. “Further, Ceridwen shall not leave the manor grounds.”

Mr. Kinsley stood, swaying slightly with his weight supported by the cane. Low fury simmered from the man, his once calm and pleasant expression suddenly hard and foreboding. He was moments away from denying him.

“How much?” Ceridwen’s voice cut through the tension in the room.

“Ceridwen?” Bronwyn stared at her sister askance.

“How much would you pay for my services?” Ceridwen asked again, her voice stronger this time.

The housekeeper swayed on her feet. “But your reputation—”

Ceridwen shook her head as if such a thing were meaningless, yet it was anything but in their society. That’s why he planned to pay her, and generously. Drystan knew the delicate situation his offer created.

Drystan sought another sack of coins hidden by his cloak and dropped it on the table. The family’s full attention snagged on that little sack as he wagered it would. “Consider this your first payment. Assuming you accept.”

“Ceridwen, we should talk about this,” Mr. Kinsley began.

But it wasn’t him who Drystan focused the full weight of his regard on. Ceridwen was curious, eager. He could see it in the steady resolve with which she regarded him now.

Bronwyn grabbed her arm, stealing her attention and mouthing what could only be “No.”

Ceridwen shook her off. “I accept.”

“Very good,” Drystan replied at length, trying to keep the pleasure from his voice. He expected her agreement—they needed the money after all. He hadn’t expected how it would affect him, how he would relish hearing those words from her, or the eagerness that sprang up in him to take her back to the manor that very moment. “I’ll send a carriage in the morning,” he continued before he could change his mind. It would be proper, and it would give the young woman time to prepare and say her farewells. He turned to the woman’s father. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Kinsley. I shall not soon forget it.”

The man opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but whatever words he failed to find mattered not. The thing was done. Agreed to.

Drystan hastened across the room, Jackoby and Kent on his heels. He stopped once in front of Ceridwen, hoping that she would look up at him, maybe hazard a glance at his face now that they were so close and his hood would not limit her view if she looked up, but she did not. Instead, she focused on his feet again and gave a delicate curtsy.

Perhaps he could coerce her to be less demure once she joined him at the manor, but that would have to wait. “Until tomorrow,” he said and left without another backward glance.

Chapter 5

Ceridwen

---