Page 47 of A Lady's Beastly Duke
Camilla’s voice was resonant as she sang the highest notes of the piece, and then Anastasia pressed her hands down in the chords that tied it together. The applause rang out, loud and warm, and Anastasia stood up, dropping a curtsey. Her skin tingled, aware that the duke was applauding her, a smile on his slim features, warming them.
She could sense Camilla’s skirt rustling behind her as they walked across the floor back to their seats. She sank into herchair, her thoughts drifting, the rest of the room blurred around her for a moment. A young lady was performing, and she could barely hear her thoughts elsewhere.
She could not think of anything except his smile and that green-eyed gaze and warmth flooded her as she recalled it. She could barely believe that he was there, and she longed to discuss the music and the evening and all that they could talk of as soon as she could.
Chapter 17
Sidney gazed across the room. The young ladies had all performed—and one or two young gentlemen had likewise been coaxed to sing. The guests stood about, discussing music or current events, or simply talking of mutual acquaintances. The sound of conversation mixed with the clink of glasses. Sidney’s heart was racing, and he gazed about the room, looking for Lady Anastasia. He could not stop thinking of her.
The piece that she had played was exquisite. The young lady who had sung had also performed beautifully, but Sidney’s eyes had never once left Lady Anastasia. He longed to see her, to speak with her. He ached to tell her how beautifully she played, how stunning she appeared.
His gaze moved around the room again.
In the back corner, he spotted someone staring straight at him. He looked away. He was used to stares—women stared at him in horror, and men stared at him in suspicion. He had become accustomed to ignoring them and so he simply ignored it. His eyes roved the room and then stopped when he spotted the same gentleman, staring straight at him again.
Sidney straightened up. He felt the hostile nature of that gaze and it made him tense instantly. Whoever that was—they were too far away for him to see the face properly—their posturewas stiff and tensed as if for a fight, aggression radiating from them even across the gap of twenty yards that was between the man and himself.
Sidney squared his shoulders. He was used to hostile stares, and he was not afraid. He had lived through a horrible accident, and he was a skilled dueler. He had no fear for his life—not at the hands of the man who stared at him, at any rate.
He took eight paces forwards.
At the closer vantage, he stared and stopped. He recognized the man. It was Hubert, Lord Graystone. Lady Anastasia’s father. He was looking at Sidney with an expression of anger. Sidney looked around. He had not directly received an invitation. Lady Graystone had mentioned the musicale to his mother, that was all. His mother had then mentioned it to him, suggesting that he would be welcome to attend. The look on Lord Graystone’s face did not suggest he was welcome.
Lord Graystone saw him approach and held his gaze. There was an astonished look on the man’s face; it was evident even from twelve paces away across the crowded room.
He is scared of me, Sidney realized. But then, being scared never made anyone less deadly.
The more afraid someone was, the more likely they were to strike out or do some desperate act.
Sidney stared hard at the earl, then turned away. The fellow hadn’t come to throw him out yet, and that was perhaps a good sign. Not that he would necessarily interrupt his wife’s musicaleto do such a thing—perhaps even the earl, who seemed to have limits on his concept of manners, would not sink that low.
He gazed around the room. He knew nobody there—the circles in which he moved did not include anybody who was known to the earl and countess, apparently, despite the similarity of their status. He drew a breath, his heart thudding. He was not there to stand about talking—he was there to talk to Lady Anastasia. Staring around the room, he tried to locate her.
His gaze narrowed as he spotted a red-haired young lady wearing a blue-and-white dress. It was Lady Camilla. He gazed at her, hoping that Lady Anastasia was standing near her. He spotted a young lady in white, whose honey-brown hair was in an elaborate style. She was giggling and seemed happy and something about her reminded him of Lady Anastasia, though he could not have said exactly what. He saw pale blonde hair close by and realized that Lady Anastasia was indeed there, talking to both the young ladies. The young lady in white must be Lady Anastasia’s sister, he guessed. His heart warmed to see the joyful interchange between the two. He drew a breath, hurrying forward to talk to them. Lord Graystone was doubtless watching, but he felt bold. He would just exchange a sentence or two with her and then he would make his way home. He did not think that Lady Anastasia could get into trouble—after all, she had not invited him, and nor had her mother. Not directly, anyway.
“Excuse me. Sorry,” he murmured, ducking through the crowd, attempting to cross the room to reach Lady Anastasia.
His movement through the ballroom was slow and he stopped, a large group blocking his way. It was five young men, all of them smelling no better than Giles on an evening—the scent of brandy mixing sourly with strong pomade. Giles, at least, never wore pomade. Sidney breathed in and tried to navigate his way past them. As he did, he heard someone in the group talking loudly.
“And he agreed! I am most blessed.”
“He did?” One of the younger men was impressed. “Fortunate chap!”
“I suppose I am.” The man speaking was tall—though not as tall as Sidney was—with blue eyes and blond hair. “She is a respectable young lady.”
Sidney felt his frown deepen. He recognized that man from somewhere. He lingered beside the group, listening as another man spoke. He needed to know who the man was, why his face tugged unpleasantly at his memory.
“Certainly. Well done, old chap.”
“Lord Graystone is lucky, too,” someone else commented.
“Not really,” the blonde man said lightly. “Someone was bound to offer. Lady Anastasia’s charm is equaled only by her breeding.”
“Hear, hear!” A man yelled.
Sidney shut his eyes. He felt sick. He knew that the man was the one who he had seen dancing with Lady Anastasia. He was boasting that her father had agreed to marry her to him.
Sidney backed away. He stumbled through the room and to the doors.
