The Baron Next Door (Prelude to a Kiss) (18 page)

Sophie cringed, wrinkling her nose. “I think I always enjoy
after
the performance so much better. At least then I know how well I’ve done and I can quit worrying. Although if I don’t do well, that’s when I’ll start obsessing about what I should have done differently, so perhaps it’s a wash.”

“You do know how to give a pep talk, Sophie,” May teased, giving an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Honestly, I prefer to simply close my eyes and forget that anyone else is there. My music is for me. If someone enjoys it, good, but if not, then that is their issue, not mine.”

Charity smiled at May’s blasé attitude. “That certainly is one way to look at it.” She paused, rubbing the tight muscles at her neck and shoulders in an effort to loosen the knots. “Honestly, though, I’m really not that nervous. I’m more distracted than anything.”

Sophie’s easy grin dimpled her cheeks. “If you mean by the way you keep rolling your shoulders, I can believe it. If we handed you some oars, you’d be halfway to France by now.”

“You noticed that, too?” May asked, crossing her arms over the rich sapphire satin ribbon tied about the high waist of her white gown. She leveled Charity with a look that was one part amused, one part exasperated. “I thought you were working on some sort of new seated dance over there. Are you going to make it through tomorrow?”

A blush heated Charity’s cheeks. She hadn’t realized she’d been so obvious. “Yes, yes, I promise. I don’t know why my shoulders are so bothersome today. I feel as though someone draped a suit of armor over me.” Usually the discomfort arose when she spent hours bent over her music, paying no mind to posture. But that wasn’t it. Could it be that the issues with Dering and Hugh had translated to strain in her shoulders?

The humor faded from May’s blue eyes, replaced by concern. “You, my dear, have been working too hard on our behalf. I warned you to take care of yourself last time.”

“I know you did,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve tried to, but I think too many things are coming together all at once, and I don’t seem to be handling the strain very well.”

“What sorts of things?” Sophie asked, pulling the slender double reed from her oboe and popping it in her mouth to keep it moist.

What sorts of things? How to make her friends understand? An incredible kiss from one man; an incredible kindness from another. Her wanting the one she couldn’t have and unsure about the one she could. Or, at least, the one who seemed to want her. The blush started to deepen, spreading across her nose and up her neck. “Well, there was quite a bit of change in the past two days. I had originally thought Dering’s kindness was just that. But after he called on me both yesterday and this morning, it’s becoming clear that he may have greater interest than I realized.”

The visit today had been particularly awkward for her, especially since she could no longer pretend he was just dropping by for a friendly visit. There had been something between them that hadn’t been there before, and she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

May and Sophie exchanged identical, raised-brow glances. May’s chair screeched as she pushed back from her instrument and dragged the seat closer to the pianoforte. “And is this interest welcome?”

Ah, there was the true question. She gave a helpless little shrug. “I don’t know. He’s always been such a good friend of the family. I hadn’t stopped to think of him in that way. I don’t want to dismiss him out of hand.” It was certainly no great love match, but perhaps that was because she hadn’t had any time to properly acclimate to the idea.

“And what of Lord Cadgwith? He seemed quite a bit more interested in you than the performance on Saturday.”

May’s shrewd question brought forth the rest of Charity’s blush; her face probably looked something like a tomato right about then. It was one thing to imagine that he was doing just that; it was quite another to learn the truth of it. Looking to her fingernails, she said. “I don’t believe he and I will ever truly suit. I do consider him a friend, however.”

A friend.
The word sounded wrong on her tongue. Still, she couldn’t help but feel that he was distancing himself from her. The ride home from the theater had been spent in utter silence, despite the awareness of his proximity that raised gooseflesh on her arms. He’d made no effort to see her since, and, as far as she knew, hadn’t come to the balcony on the chance of meeting outside.

“Mmm,” May murmured noncommittally. “I see. Well, I can’t do anything about Lord Derington or Lord Cadgwith, but I can help with the suit of armor.”

Charity’s brow beetled. “You can?”

With a decisive nod, May stood and made her way to the bellpull. She gave it a sharp tug, then turned to face them both, her hands finding her hips. “I can. But only if you keep an open mind. I give you my word you won’t regret it.”

Not the most confidence-inspiring statement in the world
.
“All right,” Charity said cautiously.

Moments later, the door slid open and a servant stepped in. Smiling broadly, May said, “Please tell Suyin I’d like to see her at once.”

“M
r. Sanburne,” Hugh said, standing to greet his unexpected visitor. “What brings you here today?” He walked around the desk and nodded toward one of the chairs sitting in the afternoon sunlight by the window.

The agent held up his hand, smiling genially beneath his white whiskers. “No need to sit down; I won’t impose on you for long. I would have sent a message, but I figured the sooner I could get an answer from you, the better.”

Interest piqued, Hugh nodded. “I see. Well, by all means, let’s hear what news you have brought.”

“It would seem, my lord, that one man’s misfortune is another man’s boon.” The agent gave a mischievous little wink, clearly pleased with whatever turn of events had brought him to the house. “The drought in Worcester has hastened Mr. Churmond’s need to implement new irrigation canals. He has informed me that he plans to leave town by the end of the week to oversee the process. Which means,” he said, leaning forward on his silver-handled cane and raising one white brow, “I have just the place for you to relocate to.”

Relocate?

Hugh’s lip turned up as everything within him rejected the thought. Why the bloody hell would he want to relocate?

And yet as his brain caught up to his emotions, he knew that this was what he had asked for. Sanburne was beaming at him because the man had managed to come through for him. Hugh’s gut tightened as he forced his face to form a gritted smile. “I see. And when will this place be available?”

Sandburne lifted a hand from the silver handle and held up four stubby fingers. His entire countenance reflected his pleasure at the news. He had delivered on Hugh’s request, and therefore had every reason to expect approval. Accolades, even. “Four days. He’ll be out by Thursday afternoon, and I’ll have my staff do a thorough cleaning. You should be able to move in by Friday at noon.”

Damnation—so soon?
Swallowing against the tightness of his throat, Hugh nodded crisply. “That is good news. Thank you for letting me know.”

His tone was even, and despite the lingering feeling of a fist around his windpipe, he stood a little straighter. He was a soldier, damn it. He knew how to lock away that part of him that rebelled against the thought of personal loss and act for the greater good. He’d led his men forward when everything inside of him had screamed to turn back that bloody day on the battlefield, had he not? The casualties were great, but in the end, the battle was won. Simply walking away from Charity should be much easier than that.

Should
be.

The tightness traveled down his throat and across his chest, the fist turning to a band of steel. Though he might never admit it, Hugh liked having Charity near, knowing she was only as far as a wall away. Without his permission, an attachment had formed between them. Something inside of him was drawn to her, and he was loath to give that up—even as he gave up the chance to spend time with her, stifling any chance of something developing that he couldn’t possibly sustain.

But being this close came at a price. Both to him
and
her. He risked an attack if she played, but when she didn’t, she lost something that couldn’t be replaced. Each time she refrained from setting her fingers to the keys, she lost a small part of her identity and a further piece of her joy.

He was taking that from her. If he wasn’t there, she wouldn’t be confined to the two hours a day when he left the house for her benefit. She could play anytime her heart desired, setting free that part of her that needed to be unlocked by her music.

“I thought you might be pleased,” Sanburne said, clearly oblivious to Hugh’s silent distress. He reached into his jacket and withdrew a slender scroll. “I took the liberty of drawing up the addendum to the current contract. Take your time perusing it, and have it signed and returned to my office by Wednesday, if you please.”

Woodenly, Hugh accepted the paper and promptly dropped it on the desk behind him. “I’ll see to it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.” A flat-out lie, but he didn’t care. He needed the man to leave.

“Of course. I’m glad to be the bearer of good news.” Turning, he took a few steps back toward the hallway before pausing. “Incidentally,” he said, tilting his head, “I must say you are looking very well indeed. Our fair city seems to be agreeing with you.”

With a mischievous wink, the man made his exit. Hugh leaned against the desk, listening to the receding footsteps and the accompanying thump of the cane. Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he exhaled a curse.

As much as he had wanted this a few short weeks ago, he hated that it had fallen in his lap. Now he would have no excuse to see her. No possibility of walking outside and running into her or finding himself alone on the balcony with the scent of lavender on the night air.

And Charity would be free to live her life without concern for him again.

That thought steeled his resolve. Skirting back around the desk, he unrolled the contract, dipped the quill in the inkpot, and scrawled his name along the bottom. There—now they could both go back to normal.

Damn it all.

*   *   *

Lord only knew what had possessed Charity to agree to May’s proposal. Perhaps it was because right then, Charity would have done just about anything to alleviate the pain in her shoulders. But whatever it was, she was profoundly grateful she had trusted May and allowed her maid to work her magic.

And magic it was. She rolled her shoulders, thrilled to be able to do so without any tightness or strain. After half an hour of Suyin’s odd methods of pinching, pulling, pressing, and stretching, Charity’s neck and shoulders felt amazing.

As she breezed past Jeffers through the front door, she headed straight upstairs into the music room. A glance at the clock told her she still had an hour left of the time Hugh said he would be out of the house. She was so energized and renewed, she wanted to play freely—and alone—for a while, the way she used to.

She paused to pull open the curtains, letting in the late-afternoon sunlight, then on a whim opened the door to allow the light breeze to stir the air. The air smelled of roses and sun-warmed earth mixed with subtle hints of the city.

Smiling, Charity sat down at the pianoforte and ran her fingertips across the keys. Their texture was the most familiar thing in the world to her—more so even than her own voice. She closed her eyes and listened, waiting until a melody filtered through her mind. It was lower than her usual pieces—a welcome change from the high notes of the recital piece they had been playing relentlessly.

It was a better fit for the quiet summer evening, with a sultry melody that evoked broad leaves swaying in a warm breeze. Finding the right keys by touch, she began to play. Just as they sounded in her head, the notes were mellow and rich, full of body and resonance, but not at all overpowering. Instead of adhering to proper posture, she allowed her body to sway in time with the music.

As she played, images of her last evening on the balcony with Hugh came to mind. The darkness of the night, the smell of his skin, the heart-pounding kiss that even now made her stomach flip. It was all in the music, the entire story laid bare for anyone who dared to interpret it.

Why was it this song that came to her fingertips? Why not something tied to Dering, or anyone else who was a better match for her? The answer was clear in the unnamed composition. He resonated with her, just as an exquisitely tuned instrument could fill an entire hall with pitch-perfect music. They were like two perfectly harmonious notes on entirely different octaves. It was difficult to make them work since the spread was too far for most people’s tastes, but when played just right, the beauty of it could give one gooseflesh.

As she hit the final notes of the piece, she held the keys down until the last bit of sound had been wrung from the notes, then let the dampers fall at last. It was lovely. Smiling, she opened her eyes and lifted her hands from the keyboard.

“That’s different.”

She gasped, her hands flying to her chest as her eyes darted to the balcony door. Leaning forward with his elbows on the black wrought-iron divider, Hugh smiled as though it was the most natural thing for him to be standing there listening to her play.

For some inexplicable reason, a wave of shyness washed over her, and she looked to her hands before garnering the courage to face him again. “I like different. It keeps things from becoming stagnant.” Questions burned within her: What had he thought of her song? How long had he been listening?

But she asked neither of these. Instead, she rose and walked to the balcony, offering him a small smile. “I hope I didn’t bother you.”

His dark blond hair lifted in the breeze and fell across his forehead as he shook his head. “I only just caught the end of it as I returned home. Was it one of your own?”

“Yes. Unpolished,” she added, since she suddenly felt self-conscious about the unscripted piece. “I was rather making it up as I went.”

His eyes were as warm as the setting sun, and his half smile did something to her pattering heart. “It was beautiful. Truly. You’re blessed to have such a talent.”

Pleasure at the comment warmed her cheeks and she lifted her lips in a small grin. She never thought he would use the word
beautiful
to describe her music. The simple praise meant more to her than any of the accolades lavished on her over the years. “Thank you. Occasionally I’m inspired to try something different.”

She could only imagine what he would think if he knew the kiss they had shared had inspired it.

“Are you excited for the recital tomorrow? Or nervous?” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. She stifled the desire to stop him. She liked him when he was slightly disheveled and relaxed. It was just more
him.

“A little of both, I suppose. I didn’t play my best this morning, but by the time I left May’s home, things had improved.” She leaned against the doorframe, thinking better of standing on the balcony with him in the early-evening light. From where she stood, she could feel the heat radiating from the limestone after an entire day of soaking it up, and incongruously it made her shiver.

“A little? Looks as though you are shaking in your slippers to me.” His low voice was only half teasing. Even though he smiled and made light with her, she could sense a reserve in him. It wasn’t that he was serious or unhappy, just somehow weighty.

She rolled her eyes, attempting to keep things light. “Very funny. Honestly, I’m so happy to have the opportunity to play. As I’m sure you know, I couldn’t have received a finer gift. Let’s hope the audience agrees.”

“They’ll be delighted, I’m sure.” His voice held conviction, as though there was never any doubt. As though he truly believed it, despite his condition. “Dering did them all a great service by having your trio reinstated.”

“I owe him a debt of gratitude,” she murmured. And she did. But Dering was
not
the person she wished to talk about just then. He didn’t have a place out there on the balcony. Not when Hugh stood before her, all quietly handsome, supportive, and sweet. It was their place—Hugh’s and hers.

She tipped her head to the side, taking in his gorgeous green eyes and pale complexion, trying to read his mood. “How are you feeling? No attacks, I hope? I haven’t seen you in days.”

It was none of her business, but the question was out now. She worried about the solemnity that kept his eyes from sparkling as she knew they could.

“No attacks,” he said with a single shake of his head. “Though if I have one tonight, I shall place the blame squarely at your feet.” Teasing Hugh was back, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, if I’m to be blamed, you should have come earlier so you could at least have made it worthwhile.”

“I wish I had. The tune was haunting, in a good way. Not like a ghost, but like a memory that slips in and out of one’s subconscious.”

The description caught her off guard. It was perfect; not something she would have expected from him. She wondered again if he realized what had inspired the piece. She bit her lip, debating the wisdom of saying something, then decided to throw caution aside. “Perhaps it
is
a memory. What does it remind you of?”

Did he notice that she couldn’t seem to hit the casual tone she had reached for? How could she, when she was standing mere feet away, her heart pounding as she imagined closing the distance between them, rising on her toes, and pressing her lips to his? Would he push her away? Or kiss her back like he had last time? That thought sent a tiny shiver through her body.

He didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he watched her, his eyes nearly unreadable as they swept over her face. Her lips parted as she drew in a quiet breath. She didn’t mind being the object of his scrutiny—not when she could do the same. She liked looking at him, taking in the subtle nuances of his features. Each aspect of his face was attractive to her, from the bisected eyebrow to his straight nose to his perfectly formed lips. Even his scars were beautiful, a physical reminder of his strength and bravery.

After a long moment, he said, “A very good memory. One I doubt I’ll ever forget.”

The soft rasp in his voice called to her. She swallowed, wanting to step out on the balcony, closer to him, where she could reach out a bare hand and trace the sharp line of his jaw. It was a desire so strong, she curled her fingers into fists at her side. “If it is a good memory, then I’m happy to have sparked its recollection.”

Chuckling softly, he said, “You spark much more than that.”

Her eyes widened. Not a statement she would have expected from him. She tried to think of something clever to say, but of course nothing came to her.

As if realizing how intimate things were fast becoming, Hugh straightened to his full height, allowing his hands to rest on the divider. “I shouldn’t keep you. I did want you to know that I thought that piece was beautiful. You should be very proud.”

She swallowed, forcing herself to follow his lead and allow the moment to pass. “You flatter me. Your high opinion means more than I can say, particularly given the circumstances. I shall think on that as I try not to let my nerves get the best of me tomorrow.”