Chapter Twelve

“The time has arrived, Elaine! Are you ready?”

Elaine nodded a little too rapidly at her aunt’s question, a clear indication that she was far more nervous than ready. And if that wasn’t enough, the fact that she’d been pacing back and forth and wringing her hands together for the past twenty minutes must have given her inner turmoil away.

“What if I am terrible?” she asked, voicing aloud the question that had been playing in her mind all day. From the moment her aunt announced that Elaine would be the opening act at her musicale this evening, Elaine had thought little else, actually. Especially when she’d learned that nearly the entire ton had agreed to be in attendance. Which would most certainly include the Duke of Ryewood. Honestly, Elaine had been too nervous to ask.

Lorna took her by the shoulders, forcing Elaine to stop her pacing. She looked Elaine in the eyes as she said, “You will do wonderfully, my darling, just as you always do. I do not believe I have ever met anyone as talented at playing the pianoforte as you are.”

“You are only saying that,” Elaine immediately dismissed.

“No, I am not,” Lorna pressed, her tone surprisingly gentle. “I promise you, the moment you sit down before that pianoforte, you will forget all about these anxious emotions and simply play.”

Elaine wasn’t convinced. All she could think about was striking the wrong key while the duke stood as witness and shame for the inevitable future went washing over her.

“You’re right,” she murmured, trying to make herself feel better. “I should not be nervous. After all, I will not be the only lady performing.”

“No, you will not. And honestly, I asked you to open the musicale for a rather cunning reason.” Lorna took her by the arm and they began a slow stroll around Lorna’s ballroom, already set up and waiting for the first guest. “You see, this is all a part of my plan. You will play so beautifully that no lady would want to go after you. And all the gentlemen would be so taken by your playing to pay much heed to anyone else.”

Despite the anxiety coursing through her, Elaine managed a smile at that. “Do you honestly believe that my pianoforte playing could win a man’s heart, Aunt Lorna?”

“Who said anyone about securing one’s heart? We only need to capture the attention of a willing suitor. One that will secure your security. The duke, perhaps?”

Elaine’s heart skipped a beat. She kept her eyes trained ahead, knowing that her aunt was watching her every move. “Will he be in attendance?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Of course. I could not invite all the eligible gentlemen in London without including the duke, could I? I’m sure he will be as enamoured by you as he was last time.”

Elaine flushed. “He may not be as taken with me as you first thought, Aunt Lorna. We have not spoken since Lady Jones’ ball three days ago. I am beginning to think he was simply taking pity on a reserved lady such as myself.”

“Then tonight is the night to show him that you are not simply a reserved lady and that you are more than capable of holding his interest.” Lorna leaned closer to whisper. “Surely you do not want to be stuck with the likes of Lord Weatherby?”

An involuntary shudder raced through Elaine’s body. “Certainly not.”

“Then let us put out our best efforts, lest we have no choice but to accept his interest. Now smile, Elaine. The guests are arriving.”

Lorna swept away from Elaine’s side, heading towards the entrance where the first guests had been admitted. Elaine watched as she welcomed them, turning their bashful expressions—perhaps at being the first to arrive—into bright smiles before they were ushered over to the refreshments table, already deep in conversation. They didn’t pay Elaine much mind but she didn’t mind it. She’d much rather go unnoticed until it was time for others to see her.

The ballroom filled up quickly. Elaine busied herself by reading over her notes for the piece she would be playing and, before she knew it, the ballroom was almost full, the hum of chatter hanging over the air. Her aunt hadn’t been exaggerating about inviting nearly every eligible gentleman in London. At this rate, the unbalanced ratio of men to women would not go unnoticed.

James appeared at her side. “Are you looking for someone?” he asked.

Elaine glanced at him, then back at the door. “Shouldn’t you be with your mother greeting the guests?”

“I do not think she wants me there. Which is just fine since I cannot think of anything worse.”

“Perhaps she would want you there if you would smile once in a while,” Elaine commented.

“I have no reason to smile. And you have not answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Are you looking for someone?”

Elaine gave herself a moment to think about it before she shook her head. “I am not.”

Technically speaking, she was waiting for someone. There was no need to look when she knew the duke was not here. She’d taken notice of that before James’ approach. Now she couldn’t help but stare at the door, willing him to step through.

At that very moment, the duke appeared.

Elaine sucked in a silent breath at the sight of him. Her memory of him did not serve his handsomeness justice. His presence was an imposing one, his demeanour so powerful that she felt drawn to his side. Elaine clasped her hand behind her back, watching as he greeted her aunt and even managed to look polite and pleasant while doing it. A far cry from the broad smile and small embrace given Clarissa, at the duke’s side. Elaine was just as happy to see her. At least there was a friendly face present.

Elaine realised a moment too late that she had been staring. She looked at James, fearing he might have noticed her lapse.

But his attention was on the door as well. And his expression was…soft. Which was rather odd. Elaine didn’t think she’d ever seen him look so pleased before.

Elaine frowned slightly as she followed his gaze. The Marquess of Grovington and Lady Isabella were now greeting her aunt. Surely he wasn’t staring at Lady Isabella like that?

No, she realised with a start. His eyes were following someone. It was almost as if he was staring at Clarissa instead.

“James?”

“I shall be one moment,” he said absently before drifting away.

Elaine watched in wide-eyed fascination as her astute and serious cousin took Clarissa by her hand and kissed the back of it. If the blush on her face wasn’t any indication of how enamoured they were with each other, the broad smile on James’ face was.

“Elaine!”

She jolted at the call of her name, her aunt suddenly by her side.

“It is almost time,” Lorna told her. “Smile. Smile!”

Elaine could only manage a small grimace as her aunt raced away to stand in the centre of the room. She’d ensured that a wide makeshift dais had been erected for the purpose of the performances, which could easily be removed for later. Standing there, Lorna commanded the attention of everyone in the room with ease.

“Greetings, everyone,” she began. “And thank you for attending. I shan’t keep you for too long because I know you are all eager to lay witness to the immeasurable performances we shall have tonight. So, without further ado, I introduce my dear niece, Lady Elaine!”

She clapped and a pitiful round of applause sounded in her wake. Heart thudding against her chest, Elaine made her way up to the dais where her pianoforte had already been stationed. She didn’t want to look at anyone in the sea of guests, wanting to pretend that they were not there and she was in her drawing room playing to her heart’s content. But she could not help looking for the duke.

She found him immediately, eyes intent on her. He stood alone, to the back, arms crossed. When their eyes locked, she could have sworn something thudded into place. A piece of her heart that she hadn’t realised she had been missing.

The duke’s eyes softened. Slowly, he nodded in encouragement.

Elaine could have taken on the entire world after that.

She hid her smile and faced the keys. It was so easy, she thought, as she began playing. She did not have to look at her notes or worry about accidentally striking the wrong key. All she had to do was relax and let the music take her over.

She lost herself in the performance, almost forgetting the audience, the world narrowing to just her and the instrument. Just her, the pianoforte, and the duke. Whenever her gaze flickered to him, she felt a rush of warmth. His magnetic presence pulled her deeper into the performance, urging her to pour her heart into the music with the hopes that she may capture his attention, not just as a musician but as a woman.

As the piece approached its ending, Elaine held her breath. She couldn’t help glancing at him once more and saw when he leaned closer as if he were fighting the pull of the music. Was she truly captivating him? The thought fueled her, propelling her to deliver the climax with a fervour she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

At last, the last note hung in the air, and silence enveloped the room. Elaine held her breath. Had she done so terribly? It had felt like her best playing to date.

Sudden applause erupted like cannon fire, startling her and sending a thrill coursing through her very being. A smile stretched across her face, breathless, her heart still racing. She rose from the pianoforte with her cheeks flushed and tried not to look at the duke again, not wanting to seem too overeager. But as she descended from the stage, she noticed the duke making his way to her.

“Lady Elaine,” he began, his voice smooth and warm, “that was simply enchanting. You have an extraordinary talent.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice slightly breathless. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Enjoyed it? I was utterly captivated,” he said, taking a step closer. The air crackled with an undeniable tension as their eyes locked. “Your passion for music shines through beautifully.”

Her heart fluttered at his words. “I was just hoping to do justice to the piece,” she said, a hint of shyness creeping in.

“You did far more than that,” he said, leaning closer. “You revealed your very soul through your performance. It was the ultimate gift.”

Lady Elaine’s cheeks burned as she searched for words. “I only hope it resonated with you,” she murmured. She didn’t seem to know where to look. Her cheeks were so hot that she wanted to look away but his gaze held her captive.

“It did, more than you know,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eye. “Perhaps you would allow me the honour of hearing more? Perhaps when there are not so many ears?”

The prospect thrilled her, but it was the way he looked at her that made her pulse quicken. “Does having other ears make my music less enjoyable to listen to, Your Grace?”

“Hardly so. I simply do not wish to compete with others hoping to shower their praises, though you deserve it tenfold.”

“Perhaps I would have liked those praises,” she countered, a hint of mischief in her tone.

“I shall be those voices then. As many as you need. I shall tell you all the beautiful things you would like to hear.”

If she had fainted at that moment, her smile would have remained fixed on her face. Elaine couldn't believe how quickly she’d let herself be drawn into him again. She’d told herself that she would be more aloof. A man like him was bound to break her heart if she was not careful and she would have no one to blame but herself.

But it was impossible. Not when he was smiling at her like that. Not when they were standing so close she could feel the brush of his breath against her nose. Not when his eyes kept lowering to her lips as if he was thinking the same thing as her.

“I would love that,” she managed, meeting his gaze with newfound boldness.

“Then it’s settled,” he said, a smile lighting up his face. “Until then, I shall be thinking of your enchanting melody. I hope you do not mind if I remain with you for the rest of the performances?”

Elaine shook her head. Good grief, she really ought to learn how not to smile at him like a complete sap. “I do not mind, Your Grace. But what of your sister?”

“I do not know where she has disappeared to. She left my side the moment we stepped through the door. Perhaps she has found my aunt and uncle. They are also in attendance, though we arrived separately.”

Elaine didn’t bother to point out that she might know where his sister was. She didn’t get the chance anyway when the next performer began approaching the dais. A hush fell over the guests.

Candlelight flickered softly as Lady Madeline sat at the stool of the pianoforte with her violin in hand. She looked a little anxious but then she closed her eyes, set her shoulders, and then began to play.

“Oh, good Lord,” the duke murmured.

Elaine fought her laughter behind her gloved hand. She tried feigning interest in the performance but her attention was wholly on his mischievous smirk.

“Is that a cat or a violin?” he whispered, leaning closer, his eyes dancing with mischief as the poor violinist struggled through a difficult passage. Elaine bit her lip to maintain her composure.

“Your Grace,” she whispered back, trying to sound stern, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. “She is doing her best.”

“Ah, but a fine effort does not make a fine performance,” he replied, his voice low. “If I had a shilling for every off note, I could buy my way to the next soirée.”

Elaine couldn’t help but snort at his jest, glancing around to ensure they remained unnoticed. Her heart raced, exhilarated even though she felt a little bad. Lady Madeline winced every time she made a mistake as if she was suffering as much as her violin was.

“You are terrible!” whispered Elaine, though her laughter betrayed her.

“Terrible? Or simply honest?” he quipped, raising an eyebrow. “One must find amusement where they can, especially amid such earnest endeavours.”

She shook her head, biting back her laughter. “You are incorrigible, Your Grace! We should be supporting our fellow musicians.”

“Support can be shown in many ways,” he replied, feigning solemnity. “For example, I could support them from a distance—preferably outside.”

Before she could respond, the Marquess of Grovington and Lady Isabella approached. Elaine’s smile faltered, the humour draining from her expression as she faced the marquess and his daughter. Lord Gorvington ran his gaze down the length of her with a hint of pompousness and had the gall to look a little confused at her presence as if he couldn’t understand what the likes of her were doing here. Elaine tried not to cower in his presence.

Lady Isabella didn’t make her feel any better. She wore a friendly smile but her attention was focused entirely on the duke, ignoring Elaine completely.

“Your Grace,” Lord Grovington greeted with a nod. “My lady. What delightful conversation you two must be having.”

“Quite delightful, my lord,” the duke replied. His humourful tone was gone, replaced by one of polite formality. He paused for a moment and Elaine could have sworn his shoulders sagged as if he was resigning himself to what he was about to do next. “Lady Isabella, are you enjoying this fine performance?”

“Enjoying is a strong word, Your Grace,” Lady Isabella replied, her lovely voice rife with disdain. “I would call it a test of endurance.”

“Indeed,” the duke replied. “Perhaps they could recruit you for an encore. Your expertise would surely elevate the experience.”

Elaine covered her mouth, holding back her snort of humour. She caught the duke’s mischievous eyes and had to turn away to keep from letting out her laughter.

Lady Isabella’s brow arched. If she was aware of the duke poking fun at her, she didn’t make it show. “I shall graciously decline, Your Grace. I was not invited to play this evening, nor would I have wanted to. I believe my talents would be wasted when faced with competition such as this.”

“Competition?” Elaine couldn’t help but say. The marquess and his daughter were doing a grand job of ignoring her but she didn’t care. “This is not for sport, my lady. It is simply a way of showcasing one’s talents and enjoying music.”

“Yes,” Lady Isabella murmured. “You would think so, wouldn’t you?”

“Come now, my lady,” the duke chimed in before Elaine could think of a response. “Surely you must understand what Lady Elaine is saying? Or perhaps you truly do not play unless it is to compete against others?” He turned to Elaine, eyes wide with exaggerated confusion. “Or is that the trend of late, my lady? I’m afraid I have been away from society for too long to know for certain.”

Elaine could easily brush aside Lady Isabella’s slightly snide remarks in the face of the duke’s humourous ones. She fought her smile as she said, “You and I together, Your Grace. I know very little about it as well.”

“A shame. We shall be outcasted then. Deemed pariahs if we do not educate ourselves.”

“What a pity. I was hoping to become quite popular with the Ton.”

“Your Grace,” the marquess chimed in, his voice rumbling with irritation. “I trust you are not too easily influenced by this lady’s levity? A man of your standing should uphold a degree of decorum.”

“Of course, my lord,” he replied. “But laughter does lighten the spirit, does it not?”

“Laughter has its place,” he retorted, “but let us not forget the importance of seriousness in our society.”

Elaine couldn’t help but intervene. “Then I suppose we ought to practice moderation, my lord. But I find that a little levity often leads to more profound connections.”

“Such connections would be better made in the company of others, Lady…”

“Elaine,” she supplied.

He managed to look underwhelmed by her name, yet unsurprised. “Hm.” And then he turned his attention to the duke. “Your Grace, what are your thoughts on the current bill put before the House of Lords? You have been paying attention to England’s political climate, have you not?”

Lady Isabella took Elaine by the arm, surprising her. “Lady Elaine,” she began, “have you seen the new muslin gowns from France? I hear they are simply divine!”

Elaine frowned at her. She glanced at the duke but his attention was on Lord Grovington, completely devoid of any lingering humour. If anything, he seemed irritated at the topic at hand.

Realising that Lady Isabella was still waiting for a response, Elaine couldn’t help but admit, “I have not.”

“Well, I have,” she replied, flicking a lock of hair over her shoulder. “Though I must admit, I find them rather too simple for my taste. The embellishments in our own country are far more—how shall I say? —enlightened.”

Elaine nodded, forcing a smile as she attempted to steer the conversation. “Indeed, but simplicity can often exude a certain elegance, don’t you think?”

“I think not. Such styles are far too dull for a society such as ours. But I suppose you would not know anything about that, would you? Such a shame.”

Elaine pulled away from her. She knew what was happening and she wasn’t going to let herself be caught in the middle of it. “Please excuse me,” she murmured, loud enough for the duke and Lord Grovington to hear. They paused their conversation but she walked away with silence at her back, her face burning with shame. If they sought to monopolise the duke’s attention, they could. Elaine would not fight them. Nor would she let herself be caught in a match between her and Lady Isabella for the duke’s attention.

So she didn’t dare turn around, even though she longed to see if the duke was staring after her.

***

Meanwhile, James stood next to Clarissa, his gaze fixed on a peculiar painting hanging in the back of the ballroom. It was fresh, he realised, which meant his mother must have gotten it this morning. Like many other of her paintings, its colours were nothing but swirling,chaotic patterns that seemed to defy reason. The artist had clearly intended to provoke thought, but James merely squinted at it, confusion written across his face.

At any other time, he would have simply walked away, deeming the painting utterly senseless. But Lady Clarissa’s attention was fixed wholly on it. And his attention was fixed wholly on her.

She was a beauty this evening, even more so than previous though it had seemed an impossible feat. The soft candlelight cast a warm glow around her, accentuating the delicate features of her face. Her blond hair fell in gentle waves, blue eyes sparkling with warmth that captivated him.

“I don’t understand this at all,” he admitted at last, simply because he wanted to elicit conversation that would allow him to hear her voice again. “Is it supposed to mean something? Because to me, it looks like a jumble of colours.”

Clarissa smiled, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “Oh, but that’s where the beauty lies! The artist is exploring the tumult of human emotion. Look at the vibrant reds and blacks. Surely, they must suggest passion and turmoil, which could mean that the softer blues symbolises tranquillity and hope.”

James regarded her, a hint of amusement in his expression. “You clearly have a knack for this. But I must confess that I have never been keen on art. I usually prefer more straightforward pursuits.”

“Art can be straightforward too,” she replied, her voice warm. “It is just a matter of finding the right piece that resonates with you.”

“Perhaps, but I find it hard to focus on the art when there’s such beauty before me,” he said, turning to face her.

Clarissa’s eyes widened slightly, and she smiled, a hint of shyness creeping into her demeanour. He adored the slight hint of pink on her cheeks. “You do have a way with words, James. It’s refreshing.”

“I do not doubt that you have heard such compliments before,” he challenged. “What makes me so refreshing?”

“Perhaps the fact that you do not seem to have any intention behind your words. You simply say them because you mean them.” Clarissa tilted her head to the side in thought. “Though I do wonder if you simply intended to distract me from the fact that you have not revealed your truth to me since our walk in the park. You were supposed to tell me why you thought I was different and you did not.”

“I wanted to ensure that I saw you again,” James couldn’t help but admit. “Is that so bad?”

She smiled broadly, shaking her head. “Not as bad as it should be, despite the fact that I am overcome with curiosity.”

“Perhaps I shall tell you by the end of the night.”

“Do you promise?”

He matched her grin, her playfulness infectious. “I promise, my lady.”

He felt a warmth bloom in his chest, and for a moment, they stood in a bubble of shared understanding, the noise of the ballroom fading into the background. But as quickly as it began, the moment was interrupted by the hearty laughter from a cluster of gentlemen nearby, drawing them back into the revelry. The performances had long since been over, which meant it was his mother’s favourite time of the evening. The time for refreshments and mingling. He could easily envision the viscountess enthusiastically dragging poor Elaine from one gentleman to the next.

James put his back to the painting, his smile slipping as he tried to find his cousin in the throng of people. “I should check on Elaine,” he said reluctantly. He also didn’t want to leave Clarissa’s side. But he hadn’t seen Elaine since before her performance a few hours ago. “But I’ll return to continue our discussion on art—and perhaps some of that beautiful lavender gown you have on.”

Clarissa raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You seem rather overprotective of her. Is that how you always are with your cousin?”

James hesitated, biting back the truth that had rushed far too readily to his lips. “I just want to make sure she’s safe and happy. She’s been through a lot. Far too much for someone as selfless and as warm as she is. It’s not easy for her to navigate all of this.” He gestured vaguely to the extravagant surroundings.

“I can understand that,” Clarissa replied softly. “But she is a grown woman, James. She has her own strength.”

“Strength doesn’t mean she doesn’t need support,” he countered, his gaze still darting through the crowd of elegantly dressed guests. “I worry that she feels lost among all this pretence. It’s overwhelming. Not to mention the fact that a few unsavoury gentlemen may have already approached her. She is far too nice to send them on their way.”

Clarissa nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Lady Elaine wishes to find a husband this Season, does she not?”

“She does. And I shall ensure she finds the right one.”

“Is it not her decision?”

James looked at Clarissa, surprised at the question. “Of course it is. But she is quite naive when it comes to social situations and she will need my help.”

“Perhaps instead of hovering, you could simply guide her. The London Season is an overwhelming experience for any lady hoping to find a husband. It would not do to add undue pressure on her.”

James paused, considering her words. “Is that how it is for you?”

“It is,” she said, her smile encouraging. “But I have decided not to take everything so seriously. Of course, I would like to find my match, but I would also like to foster worthwhile friendships.”

“Is that why you were going on a walk with the leery Lord Fornsworth?” James asked and she laughed.

“He was rather nice before all that, but yes.”

James only grimaced. “I would much rather Elaine avoided such situations if she could. She is not likely to have a dashing gentleman like myself come to her rescue.”

“I do recall saying that I could handle it myself,” Clarissa hummed aloud in thought.

James’ lips twitched. “Yes, so you say, my lady. So you say.”

He found her. His mother did have Elaine in her grasp as he’d expected, but Elaine seemed to be enjoying a conversation with Lord Harrow. He relaxed a little. He liked Lord Harrow.

“Do you see?” Clarissa chimed in, her voice soft. “She is quite fine. She seems to be enjoying herself.”

He sighed, the tension seeping out of him. “I suppose you’re right.”

“You care for her deeply,” she remarked. She touched him gently on the arm, sending bolts of fire through his body. “I understand what it feels like to worry about someone all the time. I suppose it is not fair of me to chastise you for doing what I have not learned how to cease myself.”

“It is not just about protection,” he said. “It is also about making sure she knows she’s not alone.”

“I’m sure she knows.”

James nodded. He stared at Elaine a moment longer, committing Lady Clarissa’s words to heart. Then he turned back to the painting.

For a moment, he was quiet, staring at the swirling colours before he said, “This is still a complete mystery to me.”

Lady Clarissa’s laughter diffused the last bit of tension he held in his body as she faced the painting again. “I would be more than happy to go through its interpretations, if you are interested.”

He simply wanted to hear her talk. It could be about anything, as long as she kept going. “Please do,” he urged. He was outright captivated.

Lady Clarissa did just that, going on about the emotions drawn from the brushstrokes of the painting. James still didn’t understand but he didn’t need to. He only needed to hear her, to see her, and his night was made.