Chapter Ten

The instant the first musician began her piece on the pianoforte, Emma leaned close to Mr. Forester. "Surprised to see me?" she whispered.

He kept his eyes on the instrument ahead. "Hardly. You do not strike me as a woman to give up easily."

"I am not."

"I would call it an admirable quality if you were not such a thorn in my side." The words growled out of him, as if he were trying not to let them free. He certainly was a man who liked to be in control of a situation, and it seemed Emma had made that rather difficult for him.

She smirked when he clenched his jaw. "Thorns are merely inconveniences, sir," she said coolly. "I mean to be far more than that. I only need to keep you unmarried for a few weeks; beyond that, we never have to see each other again."

"I look forward to the day."

Emma sat straight, fighting against the smile that had been on her lips from the moment Forester realized she was there. He had been scanning the room with such an appraising eye, as if he knew nothing could hinder him in his search. Though she had planned to surprise him later in the evening, she couldn't help announcing herself and watching the fear enter his eyes.

It had been entirely coincidence that the Harstones received an invitation to tonight's musicale. They had only just arrived in London when Lord Gregory rode past the town house, and he'd stopped with excitement to greet Alvaro. Tabitha had not been exaggerating when she said her husband had many friends; though they had been in London for only a day and a half, they had already received an inordinate number of invitations to events.

Tabitha had agreed to most of them because she wanted Emma to meet as many eligible men as possible. Emma had agreed because she knew she needed to get to every event Mr. Forester might attend.

"Do you intend to follow me around Town all day, every day?" Forester murmured after the next performer began.

Emma scoffed. "That hardly seems necessary. I only need to enlighten these people and show them who you truly are."

"Enlighten? These people? Do you think yourself above them?"

Though Emma opened her mouth to disagree, the words caught on her tongue. She had arrived at Lord Gregory's door with little care who she met, as long as she could use them to tear down Forester's popularity. Did she think herself above them? Perhaps she did. Goodness, this war was getting to her already, and she needed to humble herself before things got out of hand. There was a difference between confidence and arrogance, and she had no desire to take the path toward the latter like Mr. Forester obviously had.

He smirked at her silence, looking far too handsome. The young ladies on the row in front of them kept looking back, not as discreetly as they likely thought. They had probably heard many rumors about the man, and his attractive features only made him more desirable. Emma had not been in London an hour before hearing Forester's name. Though that had only made her more determined to keep him off the Marriage Mart, it also meant she was in over her head.

London had been overwhelming when she'd wanted to be here three and a half years ago. It was even more stifling now, and the stakes were so much higher.

"You cannot pretend to know me, Mr. Forester," she said, keeping her gaze away from him.

"Of course I can," he replied, shifting closer so their shoulders brushed. "I can pretend anything I like. But I don't need to imagine who you are when you are so incapable of hiding anything."

The audience broke into applause, and Miss Barton turned to face them. "Was that not beautiful, Mr. Forester?"

"A breathtaking performance," he agreed, though he couldn't have paid attention enough to have heard any of it. Emma certainly hadn't.

Miss Barton, dramatic as she was, had already proven herself useful in this battle. She seemed to know everything about Forester and his habits, whether from her own observations or her use of servants' talk, and she was so determined to become his wife that she would likely do all the heavy lifting when it came to keeping Forester unwed.

He clearly could not stand Miss Barton—he had been shifting closer and closer to Emma's chair—and she was more tenacious than anyone Emma had ever known. Having her with them in London would be Forester's downfall.

"Miss Mackenzie, I would love to hear you play," Lady Gregory said.

Emma's head snapped up to meet the baroness's kind eyes. "Pardon?" Was it impolite to decline such a gracious invitation?

"Yes," Forester agreed loudly. "After all, no one has had the pleasure of hearing you perform, what with you being new in Town." He flashed her a brilliant smile that made his blue eyes glitter.

Curse her heart for deciding to beat the pattern of a racehorse's hooves. She had remained rather calm until that satisfied smile hit her square in the chest. Did he know she couldn't play anything? Or had he simply seen her fear? Regardless, Emma needed to say something if she wished to endear herself to the people of London.

And perhaps she could wipe that smug smile off the man's face while she was at it. "Unfortunately, I do not play an instrument," she said with what she hoped looked like a shy smile. "But I have heard so much of Mr. Forester's talent on the pianoforte that I will happily sing if he will accompany me."

The color drained from his face, his smile dropping as his eyes flicked to the crowd around him. Ha! The unflappable Nicholas Forester had no idea what he had gotten himself into when he'd decided to go up against Emma Mackenzie.

"Oh," he said, taking in the dozens of stares focused on him. "No, I don't think..." But he paused, his intelligent eyes taking in the eager expressions of the room. He seemed to realize how much the other attendees wanted to see a rumor come to truth, and if he wished to remain in their good graces, he would need to either admit the truth or somehow prove he had a skill he clearly did not possess.

"What do you say, old boy?" Lord Gregory said brightly. "Care to accompany the delightful Miss Mackenzie? I should like to hear her sing."

What if Forester found a way to convince someone else to play? Miss Barton, perhaps? Miss Barton had kept close to Emma since the moment Forester left Harstone Court, and now she and Emma were—according to her—the best of friends. She would probably jump at the opportunity to do more together if given the chance. And for all her desire to cut down Mr. Forester, Emma did not want to sing in front of a bunch of strangers.

She'd only meant to call his bluff, and now she feared she would be the one to lose.

Tugging at his cuffs, Forester suddenly relaxed, shifting from the stiff and uncomfortable man he had been a moment ago into a carefree dandy with an easy smile. "I suppose I could play a song or two, though I warn you I am out of practice," he said lightly. "You know how much I abhor being in the spotlight, but Miss Mackenzie has the voice of an angel. I would hate to disappoint you all."

Then he rose and offered his arm to Emma.

Oh goodness, she couldn't back down now. Declining would make Forester look far superior, and she needed all the sympathy she could get.

Taking the man's arm—and ignoring the strength she felt beneath her fingers—Emma plastered on a smile and let him lead her to the instrument.

He walked slowly, leaning his head close and whispering into her ear as they went. "It may come as a shock, but no one has ever mentioned me having musical talent, Miss Mackenzie. I cannot for the life of me understand why they believed you so easily."

"It seems the people of London will believe just about anything when it comes to you," she replied, hoping she didn't sound as breathless as she felt. "I look forward to seeing you fail, Mr. Forester."

As he took his seat at the pianoforte, Forester looked out over the crowd, clearly nervous. "Is there anything in particular you would like me to play?" he asked, loudly enough for the audience to hear.

If she chose a song for him, he could use the excuse that it was one he hadn't practiced. No, better to let him choose his own downfall. "Oh, I will sing anything you are inclined to play."

Forester picked up the stack of music that had been left on the stand, shuffling through them with his brow furrowed. He likely couldn't even read the music and was only delaying his humiliation. He paused on a piece that was particularly difficult to sing and held it out to show her. "Do you know this one?"

Emma held back a laugh. "If you can play it, I will sing it."

"This one it is," he replied and laid out the sheets, his eyebrows pulled down low as his fingers brushed the keys with unfamiliarity.

"You could admit defeat," Emma muttered, leaning in closer so as not to be overheard. "No need to cause yourself undue embarrassment."

Forester turned, hitting her with a smile so dashing that it knocked her back a step. "Where would be the fun in that?" Then he began to play, all hesitation and discomfort gone. His fingers flew over the keys with the ease of someone well practiced and genuinely skilled, leaving Emma stunned.

When he paused, she realized she should have begun singing. "Oh," she breathed, feeling the sting of her loss when a few people chuckled.

"Shall I start again?" Forester asked, laughter in his voice.

Emma straightened. She would not have this insufferable man take both her livelihood and her dignity. "Please."

Her first words came out stilted and strained, but as Forester continued to coax such beautiful sounds from the instrument, Emma found herself falling into the music. The song was one of her favorites, but she'd never heard it played the way he played it, with emotion guiding each note. The words came more easily to her as she sang along with such beautiful music, and her fear disappeared with each measure.

Everything disappeared. It was as if the room vanished as Emma inched closer to the instrument, like the music coming from it could fill her soul and help her find the contentment she desperately wanted in life. No more time spent trapped beneath expectations and traditions, no more men telling her how to live her life, no more fears that she would spend her future alone, with no one but servants for company.

When the song ended, Emma's voice trailing off with the last notes of the pianoforte, she felt her heart beat with something new. Something like hope for a future without worry.

Then she met Forester's gaze.

He stared at her, his chest rising and falling like he had forgotten to breathe throughout the song, and Emma could hardly understand his expression. There was something akin to anxiety in it, but also awe. Admiration?

The audience broke into applause, and Emma jumped, startled from his unwavering gaze. Based on how enraptured everyone seemed from their little performance, both of them had gained some attention tonight. Likely all of Town would be talking about them, which was good for Emma in her attempt to endear herself to as many as possible. But it also meant Forester had increased his value, and if the way the young women were eyeing the man was any indication, he would not be short of admirers after this.

And though Emma hated to admit it, tonight she had, for a moment, become one of them.