Page 34 of My Devoted Viscount (Brazen Bluestockings #2)

Bliss when someone with talent played or sang, or those rare occasions when Sophia could perform, and transport an audience with her voice or her playing or both.

Had her life station been different, her blood less blue, she would likely have sought a career in the performing arts.

Visited grand opera houses on the Continent.

Perhaps entertain large, appreciative audiences in them.

Teaching at an academy was the closest she could get within society’s constraints.

Teach girls so they didn’t embarrass themselves.

Sing and play and compose in her spare time.

After she failed to secure a husband by the end of her season, her parents had been amenable to her plan to teach.

She had secure employment at Torquay Academy when they died during a pox outbreak in their village, so she was heartbroken but not left destitute.

Secure … until the untimely death of Madame Zavrina earlier this year, and the school abruptly closed.

Sophia would by no means become wealthy as a music teacher, but schools provided room and board so her expenses were minimal.

As she was of age, she was in charge of her destiny, not a male relative, as long as she could support herself.

She had been subjected to the whims of her cousin-in-law this spring while she looked for work, reliant on his reluctant hospitality.

If she married, the law would give that control to her husband.

Could she trust Lord Fairfax to let her continue to play and compose? He enjoyed playing with her now, but would he have different expectations for how his wife spent her time?

More than one student had written to her, bemoaning how their husband had dramatically changed after marriage.

How the flirtatious suitor who gave lavish compliments and gifts became a cold fish in the bedroom as soon as she became enceinte , a pinchpenny who confined his wife to a strict budget.

Limited their social activities, controlling with whom they associated, even what hobbies occupied their time.

Almost as though the husband became an entirely different creature from the suitor.

Lord Fairfax was kind to his aunts. Was he kind to his mother? Sisters? Brothers?

Did he even have siblings?

He was eager to meet his Italian grandmother with whom he’d been corresponding, but Sophia knew almost nothing else about the rest of his family. He might be almost as bereft of family as she.

“We’re having trouble coming to an agreement,” Mr. Huntley said, joining Sophia on the sofa and helping himself to a cup of tea and the last three jam tarts, “seeing as we didn’t bring any music with us.

So he’s going to play a solo.” He gestured at Fairfax with a tart before he popped it in his mouth.

Fairfax flipped his coattails out of the way as he sat on the pianoforte bench, and began to play.

Sophia soon forgot about the teacup in her hand, only a twinge of disappointment that Fairfax did not sing.

Like Vivaldi’s Spring , the music that flowed from Fairfax’s fingers on the pianoforte told a story.

A gentle melody to start, the harmony high in treble clef, reminding her of a spring rainfall.

Then a smooth summer with the trill of birdsong.

She could almost smell flowers in bloom.

Autumn came swiftly, and then changing to a minor key for winter storms with the melody low in bass clef, the notes coming faster, Fairfax’s hands flying over the keyboard, his feet working the pedals so that it sounded like multiple instruments being played.

With his brow furrowed in concentration, his attention focused solely on the keyboard, there was no hint of the flirtatious peer who’d tickled her cheek with her scarf just a few hours ago.

As the storm in the song abated, Sophia finally drew a deep breath and looked around. Mr. Huntley was moving his fingers, almost as if he was playing along, as though he could make sure his friend did not miss a note. Mrs. Royston and Mrs. Digby had rapturous smiles. Henry snored at her feet.

Had Fairfax won any competitions with this composition?

He played the final notes and took a moment before he rose from the bench, then gave a slight bow to acknowledge the applause.

She recognized his expression, the need to pause before coming out of the music and back to solid surroundings.

Fairfax returned her smile with a knowing look of his own.

Their moment of connection stretched out, making her think she should reconsider his proposal and ponder a life lived with someone who could immerse himself in music as deeply as she could … until a commotion at the front door shattered the moment.

“Good heavens, who could be calling this late?” Mrs. Digby rose to her feet, Mrs. Royston following suit. Henry jumped up, on guard. Sophia set her teacup on the table.

The door to the drawing room opened, and before Kendall could announce the guests, two young men swept past him, handing him their capes and hats as they surged forward.

“Wallace!” Mrs. Royston cried, as the first man practically lifted her off her feet in an embrace.

“This is an unexpected pleasure, Xavier,” Mrs. Digby said as the second leaned in to kiss her cheek. They clasped hands for a moment before the men switched to greet the other lady.

Sophia noted that Mr. Huntley was now standing beside Fairfax at the pianoforte. Neither made any move to greet the newcomers.

“My apologies for arriving so late, Aunt Gertrude,” the man called Wallace said. “We were close enough that we decided to push on rather than spend another night at an inn.” He bent down to ruffle Henry behind the ears.

“Yes, we couldn’t wait to see you again,” Xavier said to Mrs. Royston after he’d kissed her cheek.

Aunt ? While Mrs. Digby asked Kendall to send in hearty refreshments and arranged for guest rooms to be made ready, Sophia studied the two men.

They bore a striking resemblance to each other, with blue eyes and a smattering of freckles across the nose, though Wallace had short, sandy brown hair that curled at his nape, and Xavier had wavy blond locks that brushed his collar.

The slight crook in Wallace’s nose did not mar his masculine beauty.

Before Sophia could wonder which branch of the family tree they came from, Mrs. Digby drew Sophia to her side.

“My dear, let me introduce you to my nephews, Mr. Wallace Hobart and Mr. Xavier Hobart.” She turned to the men as she linked her arm through Sophia’s. “Miss Sophia Walden is my amanuensis.”

“Charmed, Miss Walden,” Xavier said, bowing over her hand.

“A-man-you-what?” Wallace said as he rose from his bow. With his thick brows drawn together in confusion, his expression reminded her of someone but she couldn’t quite pinpoint who.

“Amanuensis,” Fairfax drawled from his position by the pianoforte.

His negligent pose, leaning against the instrument with one ankle crossed over the other, seemed relaxed.

But Sophia saw tension in the set of his shoulders and a muscle flexing along his jaw.

“Miss Walden is Aunt Gertrude’s scribe for her memoir. ”

Both newcomers glanced at Fairfax as though just now noticing him. How could they possibly have been unaware of him? His presence seemed to fill the room, whichever room he occupied.

“Ah, brother dear, I didn’t see you there,” Wallace said with what she could already tell was forced cheerfulness.

Fairfax gave a curt nod in reply, his long black hair swinging over his shirt points as he flipped it back from his face.

“How nice to see you again, Mr. Huntley,” Xavier said, striding over to shake hands with his brother and Mr. Huntley, while Sophia struggled to hide her shock.

Brothers?

Wallace’s blue eyes remained cool and aloof as he observed the greetings at the pianoforte. He made no move to join the other men.

Mrs. Digby ignored the tension. “What brings you boys this far south, pray tell?”

“Xavier has secured himself a position as curate near Exeter, and I decided to make sure he arrived there safely.” There was a wealth of hidden meaning in his tone and the look he gave Fairfax, she was sure.

“I may be the youngest in the family but I hardly need a nurse or governess,” Xavier said.

Ignoring the gibe, Mrs. Royston smiled up at Wallace. “No doubt you intend to sketch the sights along the way?”

Wallace’s brilliant smile was as though clouds parted after a rainstorm. “Yes, Aunt Agnes, you caught me out.”

“That is exactly what he’s been doing, stopping the coach every time something catches his eye. It’s taking forever and a day to reach my destination.”

“We’ve only been traveling three days,” Wallace retorted. “And you still aren’t due to begin your duties for almost a fortnight.”

“I would love to see your recent sketches,” Mrs. Royston inserted, even as Xavier drew breath to continue the argument.

“If you’ll all excuse me,” Sophia said, edging toward the door, “I’ll see you in the morning.” Her departure seemed the best chance to let them drop the veneer of politeness… if they wanted to do so. And as much as she was dying of curiosity, it was getting harder to keep from yawning.

Kendall opened the door to the hall just then and Enid carried in a heavily laden tea tray for the hungry travelers.

Sophia eyed the fresh treats with the tiniest of gurgles from her stomach and a twinge of regret, but kept going, acknowledging the goodnight wishes from the ladies and the newcomers as she went.

To her surprise, Fairfax and Huntley met her at the hall door.

Under the context of bowing over her hand, Huntley slipped her two biscuits that had just arrived on the tray.

Fairfax reached for her other hand and slipped her a slice of bread and cheese.

Did they think she still needed extra food after last night’s activities?