Page 48 of The Duke Who Loved a Widow
After a couple of pieces, she looked up, smiled at the group, and asked if there were any special songs they wished her to play.
“The Ash Grove,” called Mrs Lloyd.
“Sumer Is Icumen In,” requested Lady Hanslope, and they all sang in unison.
The applause at the end was rapturous. His mother smiled at him across the room. He nodded back. She had done the right thing inviting the party from Horton Hall. They had lifted the evening almost to a professional level.
After a short break, the furniture was moved to ready the room for dancing. His mother and Lady Thraxton had offered to play a selection of reels and folk dances suitable for the smaller music room.
As the first reel began, he found his mother at his side, accompanied by Rosalind and his brother Simon.
“I’ve told Rosalind that you will be happy to dance the next reel with her,” his mother said, smiling, always keen to prevail and get her own way.
He’d been convinced that he’d finally got the message through in their conversation earlier that he would not dancewith his future sister-in-law. He remembered the feeling of lightness when he had been honest and refused to comply with the request.
He nodded curtly. “I must apologize, Your Grace, as I think perhaps there have been some mixed messages here. There is too much history between us for me to partner you on the dance floor. I find I am called away to urgent business but hope to return presently.” He smiled first at his mother and then at Rosalind. “I’m sure my brother will stand in my place and dance with you.”
He left the room seething with rage and needing to find some fresh air, he went to the outside terrace.
He caught his breath at the sight of an ethereal figure dressed in a silvery gown that shone in the moonlight.
He knew instantly from the position of her shoulders that she must be distressed about something. Should he leave her to solitude or make his presence known? While he was still mulling over what to do, she turned and saw him. He saw her body stiffen with surprise.
He didn’t want to cause her further distress, so he bowed formally. “Lady Farrington. You are taking the air on the terrace?”
He moved towards her. “I sense you might wish to be alone. I can leave.”
She smiled at him, and his heart melted. “No, I’d be glad of the company. I did feel a little melancholy.”
“Your playing was sublime,” he complimented her.
“I play well. That’s all I claim. I enjoy playing the harp, or I used to enjoy playing it,” she replied.
“It brought back memories?” he asked.
“I haven’t played at a soiree since my husband, Edward, died. I often played for evening gatherings at Farrington Hall. We loved music.”
“He would want you to play. Your talent should not be hidden,” Robert told her.
“I know. I just felt a little overcome and thought the cool air would help.”
He reached out and touched her hand, ungloved after playing the harp. The shock of tingling energy almost made him stand back. He saw Arabella’s eyes widen and knew she had felt something similar.
“Come,” he said, leading her gently to a stone bench at the edge of the terrace. “I can be a good listener. There is something more on your mind tonight.”
“I suppose it does no harm to tell you. When Edward died, his will left me in day-to-day charge of our son. However, due to the usual complications, he had to name a man to stand as co-guardian, and the obvious choice was his cousin Christopher Farrington.”
“I’ve heard of him in London circles,” said Robert. “He has a reputation for recklessness at the card tables.”
“That would not surprise me. It might even explain his behaviour towards us.”
“He has caused problems?”
“Oh yes. It began soon after Edward died. He began to make insinuations that I did not care for my son properly and he ought to have full guardianship. Although he has oversight of the accounts, he is unable to access the funds without a specific request from me, and we both have to sign off the withdrawal,” explained Arabella
“An unusual agreement,” noted Robert.
“Yes, Edward wanted me to have full influence and oversight over Henry’s life. This agreement was the closest he could get to my having sole guardianship. If he’d chosen someone like Sir Joseph Thraxton, it could have worked well. As it is, we have had to scrimp and save as Christopher refused to sign off on household expenses.”
