Page 32 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
After a long moment, Kit raised his chin and inhaled. “I would like that very much.Thorne.”
Chapter 6
Kit’s fingersdanced across the strings as her soul reveled in the playful joy of the notes. Bach was a privilege to play, and she couldn’t help comparing it favorably to the operatic scores with which she was more familiar.
Mother had always encouraged her to choose the music which spoke to her, but when it came to practicality, Kit had spent many hours learning Verdi and Rossini to help her mother rehearse. Tonight she’d be seeingtheAdelina Patti, and she couldn’t wait.
If she was honest with herself, her anticipation had very little to do with the operaLa Traviata, and everything to do with the man sitting at his desk across his study.
But being able to play Thorne’s favorites, the music he’d lent to her… Unbidden, Kit’s gaze darted to him and back to the score on the stand in front of her before she could lose her place.
He’d been smiling.
He’d been smiling, watching her.
A lazy sort of smile, the kind which said he was enjoying the view, and saw no reason to go back to the stack ofcorrespondence or ledgers or whatever that was in front of him on the desk.
Perhaps your playing is distracting him.
But that smile!
When Thorne—because it was impossible to think of him asThe Duke of Strokenafter that carriage kiss—smiled, he had a dimple on one cheek that made him absolutely, positively scrumptious.
Another darted glance; he hadn’t moved.
He seemed content to just sit and listen, his gaze slightly unfocused. Well, if that was him being moved by the music, she was delighted to see him enjoying it.
Something had changed between them, it was impossible to deny.
Yesterday afternoon, she’d kissed him. And he’d kissed her right back.
It had been the single most remarkable kiss in her life, and it had been over far too soon, ended by a man who’d looked horrified. Because he thought her a man? Or because he thought her too young?
Or because he wanted someone else?
She’d kissed him, then followed him into his ducal residence, trying to pretend her whole world hadn’t changed as she had prepared him for the ball that evening.
Thorne had done a remarkable job of pretending he hadn’t been affected by that kiss. Or perhaps he really hadn’t been affected at all.
When he had been ready to depart for the Stallings ball, he hesitated at the door and turned back to her. She’d been stooped to pick up the boots he’d worn, replaced by his formal shoes, and glanced up to see him frowning.
“Thorne?” she’d asked softly, slowly straightening.
Something had changed in his expression. It was as if the worry eased away.
“Ye dinnae have to wait up for me,” he finally said. With his hand on the doorjamb, he turned halfway, then paused. Without looking at her, he said, “But I willnae be too late. I dinnae plan on dancing. No’ tonight.”
It wasn’t until he was gone that Kit had understood what he was saying.
He claimed to love to dance, but he hadn’t danced that night with Lady Emma, or anyone. But tonight…tonight he’d dance with Kit.
The violin concerto came to an end, and she drew out the last note long enough to look up again to catch Thorne’s reaction.
He blinked, shook his head as if coming out of a trance, then sat up straighter in his chair. Another smile curled his lips—this one looked grateful, and he reached for his pen at the same moment there was a knock on the door.
After clearing his throat, he called, “Come in.”
“Your Grace,” intoned Titsworth. “A lewd ruffian has requested—”
