Page 21 of The Spinster’s Stolen Heart (Willenshires #5)

“What a talent,” Rose whispered, over and over again. She was wiping her eyes with her handkerchief, sniffing loudly. “ What a talent. I must give Miss Randall a compliment. Such beautiful music, and her own composition, no less!”

A portly baron sat on the other side of Rose, rather infamous for his dislike of music in general. Nathan had wondered more than once why he was invited, but then, Baron Bowles was everywhere.

“She could have played something a little more cheerful,” he rumbled, shifting.

By now, Pippa had slid past them all, her place taken by Lavinia. Lavinia was playing a cheerful, popular piece, and playing it remarkably well, but Nathan could not concentrate. He had twisted in his seat to watch Pippa disappear through the French doors onto what was presumably a balcony and had eyes and ears for nothing else.

It was the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard, he thought numbly. Like she’d cast a spell over us all.

Rose shifted, outrage in her eyes, to face the Baron.

“Goodness, where are your finer feelings? That was most clearly a song of mourning . Did you not feel her sadness in every note?” She thumped her chest with a closed fist. “ I have known loss, and so did that girl, I can tell you that now. I felt it, right here. A remarkable talent, remarkable!”

Baron Bowles began to look a little embarrassed. “I didn’t mean that it was a badly done piece, only that I like something with a little more bounce in it, you know?”

Rose’s eyes bulged faintly. “Bounce? Bounce ? Heavens, man, you have no sensibilities! Why, I…”

Nathan stopped listening. Poor Baron Bowles would receive a lengthy lecture, conducted in whispers, and frankly, Nathan thought he deserved it.

More than one woman – and a few of the gentlemen – were left surreptitiously wiping their eyes after Miss Randall’s performance. For his part, Nathan felt his chest ache, a lump forming in his throat that would not go away.

She had looked at him as she passed by, clutching her violin to her chest as if for protection. Their eyes had met, and held, and he believed with all his heart that she was trying to tell him something.

You’re a fool, Nathan. You are seeing only what you want to see.

He was on his feet before he knew it. Engrossed in her scolding, Rose did not notice. Hardly daring to look back to see if anybody else had noticed, Nathan strode quickly to the back of the ballroom.

It was the work of a moment to step through the French doors and onto the balcony, where Miss Randall stood with her back to him.

She turned, of course, and regarded him with a faintly curiously expression.

There was a moment of silence between them. Clearing his throat, Nathan spoke first.

“I should not be here,” he heard himself say, a slight rasp in his voice. “It’s not entirely proper. I shall leave at once, if you wish it.”

She held his gaze. Nathan held his breath.

“I don’t mind,” Miss Randall said at last, her voice a little unsteady. “I… I just came out here for a breath of fresh air. I imagine you did the same?”

“Yes, indeed,” he inched closer, sticking to the other end of the small balcony – which was only large enough to admit four or five people in any case – and resting his elbows on the wall.

There was a moment of silence between them. Nathan stared out at the dark gardens surrounding the house, lost in thought. Beside him, Miss Randall was doing the same thing – leaning her elbows on the wall and staring at nothing in particular.

It was a comfortable sort of silence, however. Not the awkward, irritable kind where one was expected to say something , but neither you nor your conversation partner could think of anything.

No, this was a soft, cosy sort of quiet, more like peace than plain old silence.

“Your performance tonight was beautiful,” Nathan found himself saying. “I’m sure you’ll hear that over and over again. The compliments will come pouring in, I can guarantee it. You are remarkably talented, Miss Randall. My mother kept saying it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Randall’s expression grow sadder.

“My father helped me compose that song,” she said, voice quiet. “I’ve never played it in public before.”

“Was your father musically talented?”

She nodded. “Very much so. He encouraged it in me, too. Mama only wanted me to learn music to impress gentlemen, but Papa… Papa was different. He said that music should be played and enjoyed for its own sake, and anything else was a waste of time. Folly, he called it.”

“Your music could never be described as folly .”

She turned to face him, her expression thoughtful. “I think my father would have liked you.”

Nathan grinned. “That sounds like a compliment.”

“It is. The highest I can give.”

“In that case, thank you,” he made a foolish, flourishing bow, and that got a laugh from Miss Randall. She was still watching him, her gaze sending shivers up and down his spine.

“You miss him, don’t you?” he found himself saying.

She glanced away, drawing her lower lip between her teeth.

“Every day,” Miss Randall said at last, her voice a little choked. “It… It hurts that he’s not here. I was always closer to my father than my mother. Oh, I know Mama misses him too. I know I shouldn’t be selfish.”

“You aren’t selfish,” Nathan found himself saying. “You aren’t . I was the other way round, you know. I am closer to my mother than my father. It hurt when he died, but not the tearing, aching pain that I know I will feel when I lose my mother.”

He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. Nathan did his best not to think about what he would do if he lost Rose. What would he have in his life? Who would he have?

“It is like a tearing, I think,” Pippa said thoughtfully. “A deep, guttural pain. It gets better with time, I know. Papa never wanted us to spend time grieving him. He wanted us to be happy, and I strangely feel as though I’m betraying him again by not being able to do so.”

There was another brief silence after this, the two of them wrapped up in their own thoughts. His gaze was dragged back to Miss Randall, again and again.

Of course, it was not proper for him to be on the balcony. Nathan knew he would need to slip back inside long before the musicale ended. He could still hear music drifting out – somebody was playing the harp now, with a soprano warbling in time – so their time had not yet run out.

“I’ve been trying to speak to you lately,” he heard himself saying, voice a little strained. “I cannot discern whether you are intentionally avoiding me or not.”

She smiled faintly. “I am not avoiding you. My mother wishes me to avoid you. She wants me to marry a Marquess, not a Viscount.”

He nodded. This was not entirely unexpected.

“Lord Barwick.”

There was a tightening around Miss Randall’s mouth. “Yes. Lord Barwick. My mother does not consider the fact that I am not an eligible match for either you or him, on account of not having a title and not a penny of my own. I have nothing to recommend me but myself.”

“That is a fine recommendation indeed.”

The words were out before he could stop them, and Miss Randall shot him a quick, inquisitive glance that made him blush.

“And you are certainly a fine match for Lord Barwick. Better than he could hope for. I… I sense that you do not like the man, Miss Randall.”

She dropped her gaze down to her hands, fingers knotted together and resting on the top of the wall. The fresh, cool night air was beginning to feel a little too cold, but Nathan had no desire to go back inside, none at all.

“I don’t like him,” she said, her voice so quiet he had to move forward to hear it. They were closer now than he’d intended, his hand only inches from hers on the balcony wall.

Be careful, man, he warned himself. Be careful!

“I won’t marry him,” she continued, staring out at the dark scenery. “I know that now. It seems that nothing I do is ever good enough for my mother, and I can’t simply swallow down my own desires and needs to achieve the goals she has set for me. She won’t listen when I tell her why Lord Barwick is not the right man for me. I don’t know what to do.”

He bit his lip. “I’m sorry, Miss Randall. This is a difficult situation for you. I… I don’t know how to help you, but if there’s anything I could do to make your life easier, please, just say the word.”

She turned to look up at him, her eyes glimmering in the moonlight.

“Just your presence makes my life easier, Lord Whitmore.”

Had she really said that? Nathan gulped, mesmerized. She was standing close to him now, barely a fingers’ breadth between them. A warm palm slid over his, and he realised with a jolt that Miss Randall had put her hand on his .

Hesitantly and slowly, he lifted his free hand to rest over her shoulder. She didn’t pull away, and Nathan’s breath hitched in his throat. She tilted up her chin, face turned to him, eyes wide and expectant, lips slightly parted.

She’s going to kiss me, Nathan thought, mind whirling. Or am I going to kiss her? Are we going to meet each other halfway?

He leaned down, heart thrumming hard enough for him to hear his pulse in his ears. He could feel her breath on his chin, soft and warm.

“Well, what do we have here?”

They broke apart as if they’d been burned. Nathan sucked in a breath, feeling as if he had been holding it for too long.

Lady Randall stood in the doorway, having approached on silent, velvet feet. The musicale was not over, judging by the music drifting in through the doorway. Her face was white and grim, arms folded tight across her chest.

Nathan felt dizzy. She had just seen him about to kiss her daughter, and her daughter preparing to kiss him back. Glancing over at Miss Randall – Pippa – he saw that she was bone white.

“Lady Randall,” he burst out. “This isn’t… I’m not…”

There was really no excuse to offer, so Nathan closed his mouth with a snap.

“Mama, forgive me,” Pippa spoke up, her voice surprisingly level. “This is not how it appears?”

Lady Randall gave a harsh laugh. “Oh? And how should it appear?”

“I…”

“Enough. I do not want to hear a single word from you, Pippa. The disgrace is too much to even consider. You will be ruined beyond recovery if a single breath of this scandal escapes. Go back inside. We shall leave as soon as we can do so without drawing attention. Go!”

For a moment, Pippa looked as though she wished to argue. She wavered, glancing at Nathan. He felt as though he were rooted to the spot.

Ruined? Of course she’d be ruined. How could I have put her in such a position? What sort of man am I?

She turned on her heel and hurried back into the ballroom. Nathan made to follow her, but Lady Randall stepped in front of him.

“I think not, Lord Whitmore,” she said, her voice menacingly sweet.

“Lady Randall, I beg your forgiveness. The blame is entirely mine.”

“Indeed, it is yours, but my daughter will bear the entirety of the consequences, will she not? Your reputation will recover, hers will not,” she snapped.

He tilted up his chin. “I shall set this right. I intend to offer…”

“No,” Lady Randall interrupted, voice low and dangerous. “My daughter and I want nothing from you. Pippa is a boisterous young woman and has made all sorts of foolish decisions lately. You are one of them. Leave her alone, Lord Whitmore. If you wish to make amends for what you have done, you will leave this party at once and leave me and my daughter alone. Do you understand me, or must I apply to the Duke of Dunleigh for help?”

Nathan swallowed. How would William react to learning that Nathan had besmirched his cousin’s honour? He had never been as close to William as he had to the others. As a new duke, William had his reputation to uphold.

“I…”

“I think enough has been said about this subject,” Lady Randall said tartly. “Unless you plan to discuss this matter with your friends?”

Nathan recoiled at the very suggestion. “No, Lady Randall, of course not! Never!”

She lifted her chin. “Then leave my daughter alone. Do you hear me, Lord Whitmore? Leave her alone.”

She did not wait for a reply, instead turned on her heel and strode back into the ballroom.

Nathan was left alone, cold and shaky.

What am I to do? How can I set this right?

Am I really just a bad decision on Pippa’s part?