Page 33 of The Spinster's Stolen Hear
Rose fell silent after that. Nathan glanced up at her once, afraid that he’d been too brusque and hurt her feelings but only found that his mother was eyeing him with a strange, unreadable expression. When she caught his eye, she smiled and turned towards the window.
“I hope you do talk to her,” she said at last. “You might rescue her from Lord Owen Barwick. You know what sort of reputationhehas.”
“He’s a marquess, Mother. He’s a good match.”
“Is he really?”
Nathan hesitated. “Well, no, I suppose not. But he is rich, and he is a…”
“If you remind me again that the wretched man is amarquess,I shall scream.”
Nathan had to smile at that. He wisely let the subject drop.
*
Lord Henry Willenshire was not a remarkably sociable man, everybody knew that. He was an extensive traveller, a sharp businessman, and a hard worker. Some people had their opinions on whether or not a lordoughtto have a business, but they were generally the sorts of ladies and gentlemen that had never had to evenconsiderworking a day in their lives, or even worrying where the flow of their money came from.
Nathan privately pitied such men.
Lady Eleanor was also much frowned upon, in being a woman – a married woman, at that! – who refused to keep herself at home, sewing things in preparation for children, and proceeded to efficiently and diligently run a most successful pottery business. Nathan had confessed himself surprised to hear that Henry, of all men, was marrying, but now it was clear that he and Eleanor were perfectly suited.
When Nathan stepped onto the terrace with Rose on his arm, Henry came forward to greet them with his easy smile.
“Nathan, how good to see you! And you too, Lady Whitmore! I’m surprised you could pry him away from his work,” Henry laughed, shaking his head.
Rose laughed politely, but it seemed a little strained. Nathan felt a twinge of guilt. He knew that he’d been particularly difficult lately, especially when his work had stopped producing as much joy as it once had.
Henry, thank goodness, did not seem to notice their reticence. He and his wife entertained less than any of their family, most likely due to their busy schedule. It seemed that they were more preoccupied with managing their guests. There wasn’t much time for conversation. Nathan and Rose slipped past them and headed towards the table.
Compared to other members of theton, Henry and Eleanor’s home was somewhat modest. The garden, however, was excessively beautiful. It was not as expansive as some grounds, of course, but it was well cared for, full of lush plants and sprawling meadows, herbs, vegetables, and more.
The tables and chairs had been set out on the terrace, overlooking a rolling, green lawn. It was a relatively small party, mostly familiar faces.
Nathan noticed Pippa Randall straight away. She was already sitting down at the table, with her mother on one side and Lord Barwick – of course – on the other. The Dowager Marchioness, Lady Henrietta was standing behind her, deep in conversation with Lady Randall.
For an instant, he met Miss Randall’s eyes across the terrace. There was resignation and boredom in them, the expression of a young woman who is beyond bored. Something lit up in her eyes when she first saw him, something that made his heart beat faster.
Or perhaps it is your imagination. Perhaps you are only seeing what you want to see.
He bit back a sigh and let his mother steer him through the guests towards their end of the table, far away from where Miss Randall sat. It would be a long afternoon.
As the last of the guests found their seats and the chatter quieted down, Eleanor rose to her feet, smiling round at her guests.
“Now, everybody, we have a special treat. Usually, we all enjoy a little pianoforte music with our food, but of course, the instrument can hardly be dragged out onto the terrace!”
There was a mutter of laughter at that, and Eleanor continued.
“So, before we eat, I have asked Miss Pippa Randall to demonstrate her skills on the violin. She has brought her instrument specially on my request, and I must say, you are all in for a delightful surprise. Pray, proceed, Pippa. Whenever you find yourself prepared.”
The air seemed very still as Miss Randall rose to her feet, gripping a glossy violin in white-knuckled hands. She smiled faintly around, then lifted the instrument to prop beneath her chin. The bow dragged across the strings, and a shimmering, ethereal note filled the air.
Nathan leaned forward. On closer inspection, the violin was only glossy due to a recent application of wood polish. It was a well-maintained instrument, to be sure, but knocked and scratched with age, and faded in places. Still, the instrument seemed to bend itself into Miss Randall’s grip, as if the two of them were one creature.
Closing her eyes, Miss Randall began to play in earnest.
It was some strange, simple piece, one that Nathan did not recognize. Generally, ladies who played music at parties chose jaunty tunes that one could dance to, or classical pieces that showcased their talents, or else fashionable songs that were played in everybody’s parlour. They were skilled, certainly, but Nathan had never found himself mesmerized by their performances. Not in this way.
There was absolute silence as Miss Randall’s music unfolded itself, mournful and slow, as if telling a tragic story to which there could be no happy end. Tearing his eyes away from her, Nathan glanced up and down the table.
