Page 18 of The Governess’ Unlikely Suitor (The Dashworth Brothers #2)

Edward swallowed. ‘Older than me,’ he murmured, although he was not sure either woman heard him over Emily’s admonishments not to encourage him. Somehow, knowing this intimate fact about her was unsettling.

‘You are still young,’ he said, louder this time to make himself heard. ‘But you do not need to learn if you do not want to. It is something I could teach you, however, if you would like.’

She watched him, considering for a moment.

Lots of emotions were playing out across her face and he wished he could read them.

If she hated the idea, she may not tell him for fear of being impolite or worry her position in their household meant she could not refuse him.

He was about to tell her to forget the idea when she spoke.

‘It would be a good skill to have. Families do like a governess who can play an instrument. We never had one in the vicarage while I was growing up.’

Edward did not like to think of her needing to go back to work when all this was over.

Whatever this encompassed. Surely the duke had some cottage she could live in for the rest of her life.

Or maybe Edward could buy somewhere… although, no, that would give a message he really did not want to send.

Either way, she deserved better than to be at someone’s beck and call, but what better entailed, he couldn’t say.

That someone certainly should not be Alexander Wright, for reasons he had yet to determine.

‘If you come and sit here—’ he gestured for her to take a seat at the pianoforte stool ‘—I can show you some of the basics.’

Dimly, he heard Emily move away and the quiet rustle of her skirts as she took a seat somewhere else in the room.

But he was barely aware of it happening.

All his focus was on Kate as she moved past him, her fingers accidentally brushing his sleeve.

His breath hitched at the fleeting touch and he vaguely registered that he was dangerously close to plummeting over the edge of something scary, something from which he wouldn’t recover easily.

He pushed the thought to one side; exhaustion was making him dramatic.

She settled on the stool, completely oblivious to his minor crisis.

‘Why are there two different colours?’ she asked, skimming her fingers over the surface of the keys. ‘I have always wondered.’

Pausing, he stared blankly at the instrument he had loved for as long as he remembered. He had never really thought about it before; they were all notes to him. ‘They make different sounds,’ he answered idiotically.

She smiled up at him and his heart turned over. ‘Ah, I am glad you’ve explained that. I thought they might all be the same.’

‘I am not a proper tutor. I have not taught anyone before and why there are different colours has never occurred to me prior to this moment.’

The light in her eyes dimmed slightly and he wished he had smiled back or at least sounded less abrupt, but the moment had passed. Turning away from him, she gave her attention back to the keys.

‘When did you learn?’ she asked.

‘When I was younger. I do not remember exactly when.’ In some of the darkest days of his childhood, music had been his salvation, but he couldn’t remember how that had started.

‘How did it come about? In your circles, I thought playing the pianoforte was considered a feminine pursuit.’

‘Maybe, but nevertheless, I can play.’ He was speaking like an automaton and he wasn’t sure why. He’d been around pretty women before and never had any problem formulating friendly sentences in the past.

He placed a sheet of music in front of her.

He’d learned to read music after Miss Dunn had gone from their lives, the ability allowing him to write down his compositions, although he’d never shown them to anyone, not yet ready for the personal work to be open to criticism.

Before that, he had played notes that sounded right to him.

No one had taught him, but he liked to think he was good enough.

It wasn’t as if anyone would ever see him perform; playing was for himself.

Once the music washed over him, all his thoughts fell away.

He was no longer Edward Dashworth, the spare brother who would never inherit a title, or achieve anything of note outside his family.

He was the music. ‘This piece is easy. See here, that is a c note.’

She pressed a key to the left of where he pointed.

‘That is a b.’

‘But, you said…’

‘No. I pointed to that one.’

She pressed another wrong note.

‘No, that one.’

Predictably, she did not press the one he was very clearly pointing to.

‘May I?’ He indicated the space on the pianoforte stool next to her.

She shifted slightly to the left, making room for him. ‘Of course.’

‘This one,’ he said again, pressing the key himself.

‘I see.’ As she copied him, he realised he had made a huge mistake.

They weren’t touching. There was enough space between them, and with Emily in the room, this was entirely proper, but he could feel the heat from her body, could smell her skin, which put him in mind of sugar.

It was like the blood in his veins was vibrating, calling out to him to do something, something rash.

He swallowed, knowing he would not follow through on his body’s unwanted desire and that he had just committed himself to a torturous half hour.

‘This symbol—’ he said, pointing to the paper, willing himself not to think about how close she was, how all it would take was the slight shift of his body and they would be touching ‘—tells you to play c. Can you see how it is repeated here and here?’

She nodded.

‘And, um, that means you have to play this key whenever you see it. The keys are alphabetical.’

‘So this would be…’ she moved her fingers up the notes, mouthing the alphabet as she went ‘…j.’

‘No, the notes go from a and stop at g. They restart again at a.’ This lesson had been a hideous mistake. He could barely even get his words out, let alone explain the complexity of playing a song.

They went through the first line of music, him pointing to every note and then every key. His mind was muddled by her closeness, his words seemingly coming through thick muddy water; he had no idea if he was making any sense.

‘Try putting it all together,’ he said when they had gone through the first line several times.

Using one finger, she slowly picked out the notes, her tongue poking out as she concentrated fiercely, the sound nothing like the tune she was meant to be performing.

She straightened when she reached the end of the line, turning to him, her smile splitting her face, so beautiful he forgot to breathe.

‘I did it.’

‘Yes, you did.’ And it didn’t matter that it was the worst rendition he had ever heard; what mattered was her sheer joy. It was radiating from her and for a fleeting moment, it was as though it reached inside him and plucked at his heart.

She turned back to the sheet of music. ‘Shall we move on to the next line?’

He should say no. This wasn’t doing his resolve any good; all he could think about was the tip of her tongue touching her lips.

If he pulled back now, he could do something else with his day, something to distract himself from thoughts of her.

But he was a goddamn idiot and he didn’t appear to be going anywhere. ‘This line is for the left hand.’

‘What do you mean?’ The little furrow between her brows was adorable. He wrenched his gaze away from her and stared at the sheet of paper resting on the stand.

‘Surely you have seen a pianist before.’ She nodded. ‘The left and right hands are playing notes at the same time.’

‘I see. So this is a c?’

‘Not for the left hand, no.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are you teasing me?’

‘No. The notes written for the left and right hand are different.’

Straightening, she turned to face him. ‘Why would they not be the same?’

‘I am afraid I did not make the rules. While you play the right hand like this—’ he demonstrated ‘—your left hand does this.’ He found the notes, finding playing the tune as easy as walking, easier really, because there was no effort at all.

She crossed her arms beneath her chest and he managed to keep looking at her face, even as his body urged him, with everything it had, to glance down. Thankfully, being a gentleman won.

‘You were being kind to me a few minutes ago,’ she said. ‘My playing sounded nothing like yours.’

‘It was great for a first try.’

‘I fear you are bamming me.’

‘I would never do such a thing.’

‘Hmm.’ Her lips twitched and he couldn’t help the smile from crossing his face. ‘Come on, let us try this second line. Then you can put the two lines together.’

She dropped her hands, resting them on the keys. Looking very doubtful, she said, ‘Very well, I will show you how it is done.’

He thought he heard Emily chuckle softly, but when he turned to look, his sister-in-law appeared to have fallen asleep.