Page 40 of The Duke's Bride in Disguise
"I am not avoiding you," Ava lied with a shrug, "I am trying to avoid hearing Miss Huntington's warbles."
"An excellent plan," Kilbride whispered, moving to stand beside her.
His close presence put her nerves on edge, but Ava kept her eyes fixed forward on Priscilla, who was singing off-pitch, as her sister—mercifully, a rather gifted musician—accompanied her on the pianoforte. Ava could not look at Kilbride, for if she did, she was afraid that her resolve to be rid of him would falter, and so she kept her posture rigid and her face turned, resolutely, away.
The gathered crowd, which included Lady Eunice, were politely watching the Huntington sisters' performance. The fixed grins and glazed eyes that Ava observed, told her that the audience found Priscilla's falsetto as grating as she did.
"Bravo," one man called out loudly, as Priscilla finally finished her singing. That the gentleman in question had obviously cried out in relief, and not admiration, seemed to go over Miss Huntington's head, for she preened prettily before her audience.
"Perhaps another?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, no dear," Laura called, bustling forward with a strained smile upon her face, "We could not impose on you any longer. A voice like yours must be rested, lest you damage it."
A few laughs were hastily turned into false coughs and Laura cast her eyes around wildly, looking for someone else to take the stage.
"Lady Emily," she called with relief, as her eyes settled upon Ava, "It's your turn."
"I couldn't possibly," Ava began, but to her horror, people began to murmur in earnest.
"I once heard her play Mozart's Piano Concerto number twenty-one," Ava heard one man whisper loudly to his companion, "And it was as though the man himself were playing through her."
Ava paled; evidently, her sister was quite the talented musician if she could play one of Mozart's pieces that competently. Unfortunately, Ava was not as accomplished as her sister, but now was probably not the best time to reveal that fact.
Dozens of faces turned toward Ava, staring at her expectantly. It was, Ava decided, a little like a living nightmare. She oft used to have vivid dreams when she was younger, in which she would turn up for work at Mr Hobbs' and realise, once people started to point and laugh, that she had forgot to dress herself. True, she thought, as she smiled wanly back at the crowd, at least she had clothes on, but that would not soften the humiliation that was certain to come.
"I could not possibly follow Miss Huntington after that wonderful performance," she said, grasping wildly at an excuse, "Perhaps my dear friend can be persuaded to sing again?"
Priscilla beamed from where she stood, though her smile faltered as Ava's words were met with much grumbling and dissent.
"No need to be modest," Laura trilled, making her way through the crowd to where Ava stood, taking her hand and forcibly dragging her to the front of the room, "We're all simply dying to hear you play."
Oh, dear. Ava now stood at the top of the room, facing a sea of expectant faces. Ruddy Emily, she thought sourly, and her ruddy piano lessons. The only lessons Ava had ever had, were domestic ones, though it wasn't likely that the Duke of Hemsworth would require Emily to demonstrate any of those.
An image of Emily wrestling with a dozen chamber pots flashed before Ava's eyes, and she had to bite her lip to stop from bursting into nervous giggles. Her eyes flew around the room, hoping that something, anything, might save her from humiliation, and then she saw it; a wine glass, half filled with water, left discarded upon the mantelpiece.
Phillip, Mr Hobbs' assistant, had once taught her a trick, that he swore could charm the birds from the trees. That Philip was more interested in charming ladies than birds was no matter, for his trick was all that Ava had in the way of musical accomplishments.
"Could I trouble you for some empty wine glasses and a jug of water?" Ava asked one of the footmen, who was standing discreetly by the door, "Six glasses should do."
"Indeed," the footman scurried away, leaving Ava alone with an audience, who now looked more curious than anything else.
You are going to be a duchess, you will set fashions, not follow them.
Kilbride's words echoed in her mind, soothing Ava's frayed nerves. Indeed, she thought with a smile as she glanced around the room and spotted not one, not two, but three young ladies wearing ostentatiously large silk roses upon their heads, he was right.
The footman returned with the tray of glasses, which he set down upon a teapoy for her. Trying to hide her nerves, Ava gave the room a smile.
"I know you're all probably wondering what this is about," she said cheerfully, as she set about filling the wine glasses with different levels of water, "But allow me to show you..."
Ava dipped her finger into one of the glasses to wet it, before running her finger around the rim. A low note filled the room, a little too low for Ava's liking, so she took a sip of water before she tested it again.
"Perfect," she said, before checking and adjusting the other glasses. Once she was confident that the glasses were tuned as well as they could possibly be, she began.
"Alouette," she sang nervously, as she ran her finger around the first glass.
The room stared back at her blankly. From a corner, Ava heard the distinct sound of someone tittering and she was afraid that her audience would burst into convulsions of laughter, until—
"Gentille alouette," a deep voice sang back at her.
