Page 38 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
“Stop fidgeting,” the Duke murmured to her.
Isobel craned her head to see the musicians on the stage of the music hall. The cushioned chair seemed almost uncomfortable underneath her, and she shifted, peering past a lady’s large peacock feather in her cap.
Beside her, the duke sighed.
“But that’sMuzio Clementi,” she hissed.
He raised his brows at her. “I’m surprised you know who that is.”
“I was born in Scotland, not a barn, Yer Grace.”
The duke glanced back toward the stage, where the virtuoso was taking his place by the piano. Isobel wished she was taller so she could see better.
The opera was all very well—but the pianoforte! She had never been particularly good at the instrument, preferring the fiddle, but she loved to hear it. And to hear it played so well would be an honor beyond compare.
Unexpectedly, she felt her throat close. Her nostrils flared, and she did her best to keep the emotions contained within.
The duke, however, saw through her deception immediately. She disliked how easily he seemed to read her, though she always kept herself hidden away.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Aye,” she muttered.
On her other side, Eliza and the duchess were in a spirited conversation about the virtues of music. The duchess, unsurprisingly, believed them to be numerous. Eliza, the little heathen, expressed her opinion that there were greater pleasures to be found in the world.
Under any other circumstances, she would have joined them, defending music from Eliza’s callous views.
Instead, she found herself thinking about her parents and what they would have given to be a part of this now. Muzio Clementi had only been in London for a short period of time. No doubt he would shortly return to Italy. Her parents, for all they lovedmusic as much as she did, would never get the chance to hear him—unless he traveled all the way to Edinburgh.
What were the chances of that?
It hurt a little to think that she would be experiencing things that her parents would never see. How wrong it felt when she was the youngest of them all.
But she couldn’t tell the duke that and admit to so much weakness. So, she forced a smile. “Did ye know, he engaged in a piano competition with Mozart?” she asked.
“I did not.”
“That hardly surprises me. I suppose you are more interested in other activities, like fencing.”
The corner of his mouth curled in a smile, there and gone before she had time to comment on it. “Do you think about that incident a lot, my lady?”
Her cheeks burned. “What incident?”
“I think you know.”
“I daenae.”
“Did you know, your accent gets stronger when you’re flustered,” he commented. She scowled. “I can only assume that you think about it quite often.”
“Ye are a brute.”
“Mm.” He leaned back in his chair, long legs tucked under him. “And yet I think you’ll find that you are no longer thinking about whatever made that melancholy expression appear on your face.”
“Ye were trying todistractme?”
“I successfully distracted you,” he corrected. “Do you want to tell me what occupied your thoughts?”
“Do ye know how long Clementi will continue to perform for?” she asked.
