Page 61 of The Spinster's Stolen Hear
A portly baron sat on the other side of Rose, rather infamous for his dislike of music in general. Nathan had wondered more than once why he was invited, but then, Baron Bowles was everywhere.
“She could have played something a little more cheerful,” he rumbled, shifting.
By now, Pippa had slid past them all, her place taken by Lavinia. Lavinia was playing a cheerful, popular piece, and playing it remarkably well, but Nathan could not concentrate. He had twisted in his seat to watch Pippa disappear through the French doors onto what was presumably a balcony and had eyes and ears for nothing else.
It was the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard,he thought numbly.Like she’d cast a spell over us all.
Rose shifted, outrage in her eyes, to face the Baron.
“Goodness, where are your finer feelings? That was most clearly a song ofmourning. Did you not feel her sadness in every note?” She thumped her chest with a closed fist. “Ihave known loss, and so did that girl, I can tell you that now. Ifeltit, right here. A remarkable talent, remarkable!”
Baron Bowles began to look a little embarrassed. “I didn’t mean that it was abadly donepiece, only that I like something with a little more bounce in it, you know?”
Rose’s eyes bulged faintly. “Bounce?Bounce? Heavens, man, you have no sensibilities! Why, I…”
Nathan stopped listening. Poor Baron Bowles would receive a lengthy lecture, conducted in whispers, and frankly, Nathan thought he deserved it.
More than one woman – and a few of the gentlemen – were left surreptitiously wiping their eyes after Miss Randall’s performance. For his part, Nathan felt his chest ache, a lump forming in his throat that would not go away.
She had looked at him as she passed by, clutching her violin to her chest as if for protection. Their eyes had met, and held, and he believed with all his heart that she was trying to tell him something.
You’re a fool, Nathan. You are seeing only what you want to see.
He was on his feet before he knew it. Engrossed in her scolding, Rose did not notice. Hardly daring to look back to see if anybody else had noticed, Nathan strode quickly to the back of the ballroom.
It was the work of a moment to step through the French doors and onto the balcony, where Miss Randall stood with her back to him.
She turned, of course, and regarded him with a faintly curiously expression.
There was a moment of silence between them. Clearing his throat, Nathan spoke first.
“I should not be here,” he heard himself say, a slight rasp in his voice. “It’s not entirely proper. I shall leave at once, if you wish it.”
She held his gaze. Nathan held his breath.
“I don’t mind,” Miss Randall said at last, her voice a little unsteady. “I… I just came out here for a breath of fresh air. I imagine you did the same?”
“Yes, indeed,” he inched closer, sticking to the other end of the small balcony – which was only large enough to admit four or five people in any case – and resting his elbows on the wall.
There was a moment of silence between them. Nathan stared out at the dark gardens surrounding the house, lost in thought. Beside him, Miss Randall was doing the same thing – leaning her elbows on the wall and staring at nothing in particular.
It was a comfortable sort of silence, however. Not the awkward, irritable kind where one was expected to saysomething, but neither you nor your conversation partner could think of anything.
No, this was a soft, cosy sort of quiet, more likepeacethan plain old silence.
“Your performance tonight was beautiful,” Nathan found himself saying. “I’m sure you’ll hear that over and over again. The compliments will come pouring in, I can guarantee it. You are remarkably talented, Miss Randall. My mother kept saying it.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Randall’s expression grow sadder.
“My father helped me compose that song,” she said, voice quiet. “I’ve never played it in public before.”
“Was your father musically talented?”
She nodded. “Very much so. He encouraged it in me, too. Mama only wanted me to learn music to impress gentlemen, but Papa… Papa was different. He said that music should be played and enjoyed for its own sake, and anything else was a waste of time. Folly, he called it.”
“Your music could never be described asfolly.”
She turned to face him, her expression thoughtful. “I think my father would have liked you.”
