Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Elizabeth glowed, playing the hostess with consummate skill for one relatively young. Lord Fortenbury stayed at her elbow most of the time, with his thin smile and bland conversation. Wescott was cordial to him because the man was marrying his sister, but August, Marlow, and Townsend avoided him as much as politeness allowed. Marlow had named him, unkindly, Lord “Fruityberries” early in the courtship, and August had to be careful not to address him as such in their public interactions.
As long as Elizabeth was happy…
Soon the area around the piano was cleared, and his father played while Ophelia sang for the company. Wescott’s wife had been operatically trained and, as a musician, August appreciated her confident talent and flawless tone. His father, a noted composer, followed Ophelia’s performance with a concerto he’d written in honor of Elizabeth’s wedding, reducing her to tears. Lord Fruityberries—Fortenbury—rubbed her back awkwardly. It seemed to August that Elizabeth’s betrothed was not a lover of music. A shame.
The Fortenbury cousin played his bagpipes next, his questionable technique sending August for another glass of port, though he intended this one to be his last for the evening. He did not want to get drunk here, with so much of his family around, and his friends making comical faces that threatened to undo him. He didn’t want to hurt Elizabeth’s feelings; he knew how sensitive she was.
A few more guests stepped forward to sing or play—and some of these seemed already a bit too drunk. He noticed his mother looking around for him, and tried to blend into the floral upholstery, but she called his name and beckoned him until he was forced to respond.
“My son would like to play,” she announced. “Lord Augustine must play with his student—the bride-to-be.”
“Indeed, let’s hear the pupil and teacher together!” The Duchess of Arlington, Elizabeth’s mama, took up the call, making it impossible for him to refuse. “Let us enjoy her progress under your tutelage.”
August stood, feeling a flush rise beneath his cravat. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to play the piano with Elizabeth. Goodness, he adored the girl. It was only that the last time they’d sat on a piano bench together…
She came and took his hand, leading him to the piano. There was an immediate question of what they might play. Despite what the duchess said, Elizabeth had not progressed under his instruction. If anything, she’d regressed in her technique once they’d started playing their disciplinary game.
Don’t think of that now, before all these people.
He pulled his coat closer about his waist and was glad he’d worn his more restrictive, formal trousers. It wouldn’t be appropriate to grow aroused. His conscience continued to berate him. Not here, not now. For God’s sake, you’ll make people talk.
He couldn’t bear that, couldn’t bear to add to the gossipy burden Elizabeth already carried. He smiled, gesturing for her to sit first and make herself comfortable. She left plenty of space for him, but he still felt he crowded her as they bent over the available music. Fortenbury hovered nearby, smiling his banal smile. It wasn’t really a smile, August realized, then quickly pushed the thought away.
“What shall we play?” she asked. “Nothing too hard. I’m afraid I’ll blunder because I’m nervous.” Her soft voice was part hilarity, part dread. “I’ll make so many mistakes.”
He laughed at their situation, finally, a great, friendly laugh that made those around them smile, even though he and Elizabeth had whispered their conversation.
“Even if you make mistakes, your guests will applaud afterward.” And I won’t spank you, of course. Not here. “Let’s try this one,” he said, choosing a steady minuet like the ones he’d assigned as her teacher. “You can play the treble part, and I’ll play the bass.”
“I’m afraid there are too many notes in that piece. Isn’t there an easier one?” She grinned at him, her vivid eyes twinkling. “I haven’t been practicing at all.”
Naughty girl. The words were on the tip of his tongue before he pulled them back. He bit his lip instead and chose a different piece, a popular song from his parents’ era. It was a little more challenging than he’d expected. He hoped she was up to the task.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Goodness. I’ll try my best.”
Her best was not good enough. As they began to play, he felt transported back to his echoing music hall and her silly faces as she laid waste to the pieces he put before her. She’d learned something during their lessons together, but it wasn’t better musicianship.
“I’m cocking things up again, aren’t I?” she said beneath the din of her off-beat playing.
“Steady on.” He reached over to pick up some of the notes she was missing, not that it disguised the wrong ones she managed to play. His naughty Lisbet, blushing and laughing and announcing that it had to be nerves…