CHAPTER FOUR

Emilia was lost in thought as she played.

Her mind was still musing on the earl’s intentions and what he might have meant by looking at her in such a way. As the piece continued to flow through her, she opened her eyes, only for them to alight on the same blue-green gaze watching her from a crack in the door.

Her heart lurched into her throat—could he tell the subject of her thoughts by sight alone?

Her fingers froze on the keys, the final note reverberating between them like a ripple across a divide. Their eyes locked and held once more, and that strange force rose between them again. The air crackled with unspoken words, and in his eyes, she thought she discerned an echo of her own rapture, her own wonder at the love and joy music could bring.

Then, as though awoken by the pause in the music, the earl blinked, his face flushing slightly. She heard him clear his throat, and then he spun on his heel and away, leaving her wondering what had compelled him to watch her in such a manner and why she felt bereft at his absence.

Adam only noticed he was running when he skidded to a halt in the expansive foyer by the entrance of the house, startling a servant who looked up at him in surprise. He slowed his pace to a more leisurely speed and tried to quiet his mind from the whirlwind of thoughts that were bouncing around inside it.

I barely know the woman; how can she have such an effect on me purely through music?

It had been years since he had felt joy at that sound. His mother and Anastasia had both loved the piano and played it often, but nothing like that. Even his mother’s playing was not as exquisite as what he had just heard. He swallowed convulsively around the lump in his throat and was just about to head outside when someone called his name.

Lionel approached his cousin as quickly as he could, having seen him sprint past the room he was in, looking pale and upset.

In the carriage that afternoon, Lionel had watched Adam’s face growing paler and paler as they reached the house, and now he found him almost sprinting out of the door as though he might run all the way back to London.

“Bentley, old chap, whatever is the matter?” Lionel asked lightly, coming up behind him and attempting a cheerful tone. Close up, Adam looked even more discomfited, and Lionel placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling deep concern for him. “What is it, cousin, are you quite well?”

Adam closed his eyes in despair.

“I was about to take a turn in the grounds,” Adam said stiffly. Lionel looked past him at the frost on every surface. He hated the winter months, disliked being cold, and had no time for snow and ice. He preferred the balmy spring days and warmth of autumn to the white wonderland that faced him now.

“Excellent, I was just about to do the same,” he said swiftly, the lie rolling off his tongue effortlessly. Summoning a servant, Lionel placed a hand on Adam’s arm in an attempt to forestall his swift escape.

Once wrapped up against the cold, they both walked slowly out of the door and into the wide grounds of the house.

Frost adorned every stem and flower before them, and cobwebs cascaded from every tree, catching the early evening light as the day surrendered to twilight.

Lionel kept quiet, admiring the scenery. He might hate the winter, but he would admit it had a beautiful charm about it when one paid close attention. He kept stoically silent, waiting for Adam to speak. He knew his friend was not accustomed to a party such as this. Indeed, Lionel had admonished his mother for insisting his cousin attend it at all, but she had been adamant that Adam just needed to get out, and then all would be well.

Looking at his cousin’s pale and worried face, it seemed his mother had made a grave error.

“What is it?” he said finally. Adam was wringing his hands together repeatedly and hadn’t uttered a word for many minutes. Neither of them had thought to bring gloves, andtheir fingers were pink and swollen in the freezing air.

“You will think me very foolish,” Adam muttered.

“I can promise you I will not,” Lionel insisted. “I have never thought you foolish. Not even when you climbed up that tree when we were fifteen to fetch conkers and broke your leg.”

Lionel was gratified to see a smile flicker over his cousin’s face as they turned a corner and made their way down a gravel path against the side of the house.

“I cannot wholly explain it,” Adam confessed quietly, gazing at the grey sky above them.

“Are you unwell?” Lionel inquired, concern etched upon his features.

“No. No. Nothing like that, but I just experienced something… odd.”

“I am intrigued.”

“Lady Emilia Sterling was playing Bach’s Fugue. The one mother always played.”

“I know it well.”

“It was her favourite. Usually, I would have walked away from the sound. The pianoforte brings such bad memories I tend to avoid it at all costs, but the way she played that piece. It filled my soul. As though my whole body had been dead for years and suddenly came alive. I have never heard anything like it, and I have heard that piece over one hundred times in my life.”

Lionel remained quiet.

“I am overwrought,” Adam continued. “I should not feel such things. The guilt is rising within me even as I think of it. To see a woman play my mother’s song, just as Anastasia used to. I should not be entertaining such emotions. It is very wrong, and I do not know why it has overwhelmed me in such a way. I feel as though my mind is in twelve places at once.”

“My dear fellow,” Lionel began gently, “I would never presume to understand your grief, but it has been three years since Anastasia’s death, and you have done little but work in the intervening time. Perhaps this is a sign that you are ready to rejoin the world, to allow yourself some relief. It could be as simple as enjoying music again, and that is a wonderful thing.”

Adam glanced at him uncertainly, looking appearing all the more confused as they continued on their way.

“This party affords you a splendid opportunity to embrace some joy, Adam,” Lionel insisted. “Anastasia would want you to live again. You cannot mourn her forever, and your mother would want you to enjoy something she loved without guilt.” He clapped Adam on the shoulder. “None of this is a bad thing.”

They had walked a loop of a small garden beside the house and both of them were making their way back to the main entrance without discussing it. Their breath was rising in great clouds all about them, and Lionel was already chilled to the bone.

“Perhaps you are right,” Adam said with a rueful smile. “I confess, when we came here, I could not think of anything except getting through the next few days and returning to my office. Perhaps I have worked too hard and for too long and closed myself off from the simple pleasures life has to offer. But it was a foreign feeling, the exuberance her playing triggered in me.”

“Of course. Of course it is, but do not fight it. The mind knows what it wants just as well as the heart, and perhaps it is telling you that you are ready for a new chapter. That is all.”

Adam nodded as they entered the entrance hall, handing off their coats and red in the face from the frigid air.

“When did the blasted weather become so unaccommodating?” Lionel asked irritably, blowing into his hands and stamping his feet.

“I am going to get back to my warm chambers, and I shall see you at dinner,” Adam said with a happier smile and Lionel watched him leave with what felt like hope in his chest.

A part of him was thrilled. Lady Emilia Sterling was a beautiful and talented woman. Lionel could not think of a better potential partner for his cousin but was under no illusions that he could expect anything from it.

For Adam, the world of love was a distant memory.

***

Emilia and Charlotte had repaired to Emilia’s room to prepare for the ball.

Charlotte had brought a multitude of brooches and jewellery with her, which Emilia was admiring as she attempted to stop her hands from shaking.

Despite her worries and fears about socialising with so many strangers, Emilia could not deny that she was excited, too. The two of them had not attended a ball of such a large size together for many years, and the room was heavy with nervous energy.

To distract herself, Emilia had been telling Charlotte of the earl’s strange behaviour that afternoon.

“What do you think he meant by it?” Charlotte mused.

Emilia loved her for many reasons, but the main one was that she was not a silly, giggling girl. Charlotte was reserved and measured in all things and never allowed herself to get carried away with idiotic fantasies.

“I do not know,” Emilia replied. “He was watching me play, and then he turned away and almost ran from the room. What do you think it could mean?”

“I have heard you play many times, and you have quite enraptured me on several occasions. He may simply have admired your talents, of which there are many.”

Charlotte pushed a beautiful pearl-encrusted comb into her hair and raised her eyebrows at Emilia for her opinion. Emilia nodded in approval, and Charlotte smiled demurely, happy that her friend seemed eager for the ball despite her concerns about how she would be received.

Emilia looked very lovely in a deep red gown that exactly matched the tiny bows she had placed in her hair. Charlotte watched her carefully in the mirror, considering what she had told her of the earl. She found herself intrigued.

It had been so many months since her friend had received even the slightest sniff of a prospect that they rarely spoke of men at all. Now, hearing of the earl’s wide-eyed gaze and apparent interest, Charlotte was overjoyed for her friend. She did not wish to get carried away by the feeling, but it was encouraging nonetheless.

“Mama has asked me to perform this evening,” Emilia added nervously.

“Well, that is wonderful, and so she should. You are by far the best pianist in the country,” Charlotte said earnestly as Emilia rolled her eyes in the mirror.

“She has only asked me in order to impress Lord Elderbridge,” Emilia said wearily, eyeing her friend nervously for any sign that Charlotte might have changed her mind about the match.

Charlotte glanced at her in the mirror's reflection and pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Mm. Do you think you could play everything in a minor keyor dispense with every other note, perhaps? That might very well deter him.”

“His daughters already hold me in deep disdain,” Emilia said miserably.

“As much as I do not want you to marry the man, his daughters do not know you,” Charlotte insisted. “Anyone who knows you loves you; it is to their detriment if they are uninterested in getting acquainted with you. I imagine in any other circumstances, you would get on very well together.”

Both women stepped back to admire their finished ensembles in the mirror. Charlotte held out her hand to Emilia, and she took it as Charlotte fixed her with a stern glare.

“Remember the talent and strength you hold when you sit at the piano. That is all you should focus on. Tonight is an opportunity to perform again, nothing else. Do not think of the audience; think of your love of music. It has been a long time since you embraced playing again; let this be your chance to regain the joy you find in it.” Charlotte smirked. “And do not focus on your audience. Focus on yourself. Although I will admit that your admirer is by far the most handsome man in the room, second only to his cousin.”

Emilia watched Charlotte blush and laughed. “Lionel Spencer?” she asked teasingly, and Charlotte lifted her chin primly and waved her off as though it were nothing. “I had no idea you were interested in prospective suitors until the season begins.”

“The marriage mart?” Charlotte exclaimed. “What rot! I merely said he was handsome . There are plenty of handsome men who are exceptionally stupid. He may not have any brains in his head; that is much more likely, and you know I cannot abide a bore.”

Emilia snorted and shook her head as they headed downstairs together. It was the first ball of the Christmas period for her mother, and despite their strained relationship, Emilia was anxious that it went smoothly.

She tried to do as Charlotte had instructed, focusing on her performance and the fluttering of anticipation she felt ahead of it. But Emilia could not deny that a particular pair of piercing eyes were never far from her thoughts.