Page 28 of Gambling with the Earl
“Very well.” She straightened up and lifted her chin in a further display of fortitude. “Would you like a different tune this time?”
“Very much.” Guy bit down on his lip to prevent himself from smiling widely.
She started up again. This time the tune was less uncertain, more deliberately dreadful. He kept his expression carefully neutral, until Kitty’s voice hit a soaring soprano note which wobbled down to a tremulous, off-key bass and Guy felt his face break into the first genuine smile he had known for many months.
Oblivious to his emotional journey, Kitty soldiered on. Guy rested his forehead on his palm in an attempt to hide his merriment, but when she repeated the same refrain, he couldn’t help a snort of laughter from escaping him.
Kitty stopped abruptly and gave him a sharp look. Her sea-green eyes were impossible to read. “Have I displeased you, my lord?”
“Not at all.” He straightened up and cleared his throat. “I liked it enormously.”
“Really?”
Was her lip twitching as if she too was hiding a smile? Despite her humble attire, Kitty was looking less and less like a chambermaid. Her back was straight and her hands were folded demurely in her skirts, exactly like a well-bred young lady conversing with her equals.
“Oh yes.” He paused, weighing up his next words. “I would beg for a third, though I begin to fear I have already pushed my luck too far.”
He had given himself away. He saw it in a flash of her lively green eyes. She was onto him.
Kitty smoothed down her skirts as a faint tinge of pink stained her cheeks. “I believe I must rest my voice, for a little while at least.”
“Of course,” he nodded seriously, trying to hide the slight stab of disappointment. “I quite understand.” He fumbled for some way to prolong their conversation. “Steam, I believe, is beneficial for the throat.”
“Is that so, my lord?” Her eyes widened in what must be pretend fascination. “I begin to suspect that you too are a master of the singing arts.”
She was playing with him. And to his complete surprise, he was more than willing to go along with it.
He raised his chin to meet her gaze and inclined his head to the side in a show of modesty. “Not a master, I assure you.”
“A scholar then.” Her eyes ducked down once again to the rushes on the floor, and he sensed her withdrawal. Mayhap she was as aware of the frisson that had sprung up between them as he was? A frisson that should never exist between servant and master. But the connection he felt was real, sincere, uncaring of position. And if he allowed their conversation to falter for another moment, this unanticipated joviality would become nothing more than a memory.
“A scholar. I would grant you that.” He sprang to his feet in sudden eagerness to extend the game they had unwittingly entered into. But he hadn’t reckoned on the effect which her singular, untouched loveliness would have on him. A beat passed as he took in her intelligent face, which was alight withmirth and daring. “I recognise beauty when I see it.” His voice was rough, his words rushed.
She took half a step backwards. “You are too kind,” she stuttered, alarm flickering across her previously composed features.
He’d frightened her. He must put it right.
“Would you like me to sing for you now?” he offered wildly. Anything to take the look of fear from her eyes.
It worked. Her mouth once again twitched, showing her efforts to conceal a smile.
“Very much, my lord.”
He pressed his lips together. He knew no songs. “Perhaps a duet?”
She inclined her head. “Very well.”
She launched once again into her uncertain tune, and this time he raised his voice along with hers, following her discordant notes up and down and to all beats in-between. Within seconds their mouths had stretched into smiles which were now impossible to deny. Moments later Kitty erupted into a peal of laughter, and he followed suit, holding onto the fireplace as his shoulders shook with merriment.
Kitty regained her composure first. “When did you hear me sing?” she asked, with such upfront honesty that Guy was taken aback.
“Here, in my solar,” he answered promptly. “A few nights since.”
She acknowledged the truth of it with a faint grimace. “Forgive me, my lord.”
“There is nothing to forgive. The sound of your voice made me forget my troubles for a moment.” There he was again, spilling the private truth of his heart to a woman he hardly knew.
She smiled but her eyes slid away from his. She was preparing to withdraw from him again. He could feel it in the air.Yet she hesitated for long enough to give proper consideration to his rash words. “My mother always said that was the power of singing. Of music.”
