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Authors: Escapades Four Regency Novellas

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“Perhaps I can help,” he said, much to his own astonishment. “I have—I have played the piano in the past. Would you accept my assistance?”

Melody hesitated. “Of course,” she said at last.

Lady Sandborne’s brows lifted slightly, and a muted snort issued from Mary, but Josh rose to settle himself at the piano. His hands lifted, he turned to Melody.

“What key do you prefer?” he asked.

“Oh!” she replied, for some reason flustered. “D will be fine.”

As Josh ran through a few experimental chords, his hands felt stiff and unresponsive. He settled into the simplest accompaniment he could produce for the carol. As the song progressed, however, his fingers relaxed and seemed to move of their own volition in an embroidery of the melody that poured so effortlessly from Miss Fairfax’s throat.

Entranced, Josh absorbed the liquid cascade of music, and as he listened, it seemed to him that his soul was awakening from the dark winter that had possessed it for so long. Which was patently ridiculous, of course. How could one song, no matter the talent of the singer, accomplish what three years of solitude and hardship could not? Still, he was swept, as he had been on hearing her voice in the churchyard, by that breathless sense of something extraordinary about to happen.

He became aware that Miss Fairfax had fallen silent and was staring at him in perplexity. Catching his gaze, she faltered.

“Oh, do pardon me, my lord. It’s just that you play remarkably well, and—and—”

Josh grinned. “You did not expect such a display from a barbarian newly arrived from the edge of civilization?”

The young woman flushed a deep rose, and he was again struck by the purity of her features, a purity that was in no way diminished by the scar that lay along her cheek like a leafy tendril. As she returned to her chair, he glanced at Lady Sandborne and Mary, who had at last fallen silent and sat in bored attention. Arthur had apparently fallen asleep. Good Lord, had they no appreciation for the lark who lived in their midst? True, she gave more the appearance of a very plain wren, but surely her remarkable talent should produce more than their attitude of patient forbearance. With an effort, he returned his attention to Lady Sandborne, who was speaking enthusiastically.

“It will be the premier event of the season, of course, and everyone from miles around will attend.”

“I beg your pardon?” Josh asked absently.

“Why, the Christmas ball, of course. I think I spoke of it to you earlier. It’s been a tradition here at the Court for years. It always takes place during the last week before Christmas, so it’s only a few weeks away. Forbes and Mrs. Gresham have been deep in plans for some time.

“As I said before, it will be a chance for you to meet the rest of your newfound family. Hopefully, you will have encountered most of your neighbors by then,” she continued, “but the ball will give you an opportunity to greet those more far flung. Now, Josh dear, I hope you will not take offense, but we really must do something about your wardrobe. What you are wearing no doubt serves for a respectable visiting American, but more is expected of a peer of the realm, you know.”

Josh opened his mouth, but after a moment’s thought, stilled the protest that had formed on his lips. His aunt was right, he supposed. If he was going to fill the position of an earl, even temporarily, he might as well look the part.

Arthur yawned ostentatiously.

“Umm.” He rose. “It”s been rather a long day, and I believe I’m for bed.” He assisted his wife to her feet. “I should think you would be fagged as well, Aunt Helen. It’s well past your usual bedtime.”

Lady Sandborne looked up, startled. “Why, yes, dear, you’re right. My, I don’t know when the evening has flown so. Good night, Josh. I look forward to showing you all the glories of Sandborne Court in the morning. Melody?”

Miss Fairfax rose to take the dowager’s arm and the group left the room.

Josh moved slowly back to the piano, and for some moments, stood staring at it with clenched fists. He had not touched a piano since Dorothea’s death, and tonight, with scarcely a moment’s hesitation, he had played an accompaniment for Miss Fairfax. It would have been churlish not to oblige, of course, but did his willingness indicate that Dorothea’s memory had begun to fade?

No! He must not allow that to happen. A love such as he and Dorothea had shared must not be allowed to drift into oblivion like last season’s roses. To turn away from her memory seemed like a negation of all he had felt for her—and a confirmation of his responsibility for her death.

He became aware that someone had entered the room behind him and turned to observe Miss Fairfax standing at the door.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, startled. “I thought you would be—that is, Lady Sandborne forgot her spectacles.”

She entered the room, moving gracefully toward the chair recently vacated by the countess. “She will want them at hand when she awakes in the morning.”

Picking up the spectacles from a nearby table, she turned again toward the door, but stopped uncertainly in the center of the room. “I see you have returned to the piano,” she said, smiling, “but I did not hear any music.”

Josh rose hastily. “No. I was not playing—merely thinking about it.”

Her winged brows rose questioningly and her mouth quirked in mischief. “I have heard of many piano theories, but I do not believe I have ever heard of the ‘think’ method.”

Josh felt his breath catch in his throat. Why, the little gray companion could be absolutely enchanting when her eyes took on that impish sparkle. He returned her smile.

“The fact is,” he said awkwardly, “I have not played for a very long time. I used to be rather good at it,” he continued, “but—something happened.”

“I’m so sorry. I did not mean to pry.”

“Not at all. It’s just that—” He expelled a long breath and sank down on a settee, drawing Miss Fairfax with him. “I think I have always loved music, particularly the piano. I found I had a talent for it, and despite Uncle Eli’s objections, I spent the better part of my youth studying and practicing. I even tried my hand at composing, and eventually became an accomplished musician.” He gestured diffidently. “I say this not to boast, but so you will understand my dedication to the instrument.”

He grinned. “Although I imagine I do not need to tell you anything on the subject. Anyone who sings as gloriously as you must have spent a great deal of time on her art.”

She did not seem discommoded by his compliment, but nodded seriously. “Indeed, my lord. It is not so much that I wished to pursue an interest in music, but that—well, I can’t not sing. It just seems to well up inside me until it—it explodes!”

Josh laughed. “Precisely.”

He sobered abruptly. “And then I met Dorothea. Actually, she was the daughter of one of Uncle Eli’s business associates and we had known each other for most of our lives. It was not, however, until she returned from a year abroad with her mother that we— that is—we had both grown up during her absence.

“She had changed from a rather gawky, snub-nosed girl into a dazzling beauty, and I, though my transformation was not nearly so spectacular, had at least grown taller. I promptly joined the army of her admirers, and I could not believe my good fortune, when she seemed to return my regard.” He laughed again. “I made the most complete ass of myself. I wrote odes to her blue eyes and even dashed off a sonata in her honor.”

Miss Fairfax smiled. “I’ll wager she was a lover of music and was swept off her feet by your musical ardor.”

Josh frowned. “I thought so, at any rate.” He glanced down at his fingers. “However”—he sighed, his eyes clouding in memory—”I had reached the point where I was being asked to perform, and such was the reception granted my efforts that I thought seriously of taking up the piano as a career rather than going into business. I was fortunate in the fact that, through Uncle Eli and the share in his company that was mine through my father, I could live comfortably, if not lavishly. But, Dorothea thought—as did Uncle Eli and his family—that it was beneath me to actually earn money from something as plebeian as performing on a stage.”

Josh halted abruptly. Good Lord! What was he thinking of, gabbling on like this? He had never spoken so to a living soul—and he had known this young woman for only a few hours!

“I’m sorry—” he said somewhat painfully.

“Oh, no!” protested Miss Fairfax. “I think a life as a professional pianist would be wonderful. In fact, I had similar aspirations myself—as a singer, that is.”

“Did you?” Josh asked interestedly. “Why did you not pursue this possibility? I should imagine you would have taken London by storm.”

She blushed. “Well, such was my fantasy, though I should imagine the reality would have been a great deal less enthusiastic. The reason I did not make a stab at it, of course, was my family.”

“They objected?”

She sighed, much as Josh had done a few minutes earlier. “You see, my lord, my—”

“Miss Fairfax,” said Josh with mock severity, “as I told my aunt some hours ago, I fear I shall never become used to ‘my lord.’ I wish you will call me Josh. It is what I have answered to all my life, and I’m much too long in the tooth to change my ways now.”

“Oh, but I don’t think—that is—perhaps you did not understand Lady Sandborne fully. I am a paid companion.”

“Yes,” replied Josh gently. “I do understand that, but where I come from it is commonplace for persons in your position to call family members by their first names. In America, we set little store by formality.”

“So I’ve heard,” responded Miss Fairfax dryly. “Very well, my lo—Josh, but if her ladyship has any objection—”

“I’m sure she will not.” Josh inserted an authoritative note into his voice. “And, I shall call you Melody, if I may. My American upbringing again,” he added hastily as she drew a deep breath. “And Melody is such a lovely name, it is a shame not to make more use of it. Now”—he continued before she could dispute this dictum—”you were telling me of your plans to become a professional singer. Why did your family object?”

Melody’s gaze flew to his, and an unaccountable stirring made itself felt deep in his interior.

“My father is a baronet,” she replied hesitantly. “Not an exalted title, but one he is proud of. He and my mother were horrified at the idea of their daughter going on the stage, like a common—”

“Piano player?” asked Josh in some amusement. “Tell me,” he continued. “If I am not being forward, how did it happen that you were contemplating the need to earn your own way in the world?”

Melody shrugged. “Oh, it was the usual. My father inherited an estate and a more than modest competence, but he was addicted to gambling in its most virulent form. By the time I was sixteen, we were in serious financial difficulties. I have two younger sisters, and they took after my mother. That is, they are very beautiful and vivacious. It was hoped they would make advantageous marriages, but with no dowry, their situations were bleak. It seemed to me the only way we could come about was for me to earn enough money to provide at least one of the girls with a season. My music master had some connections in London, and he felt sure he could help me. He said he had little doubt I would enjoy a measure of success.”

“An understatement if I ever heard one,” said Josh, smiling.

“My mother always felt somewhat uncomfortable about my singing. She said that it was unseemly. ‘Plain is as plain does,’ she would tell me. ‘A young woman who has so few prospects as you, dearest, should not put herself forward.’ ”

Josh was appalled. “She said that? To you? Her daughter?”

Melody smiled ruefully. “She was only being kind, Josh. She was an absolute diamond, and she always felt badly for me, I think, that I was not. And then, when I acquired this”—her fingers reached up to brush the scar—”she knew that I could never make a match. She knew I must face the fact squarely and make the best of my life.”

Josh could only gape at Melody. Good Lord! Because she was not a raving beauty, and had been further marred by an injury, the girl actually thought of herself as worthless! And what was worse, she had conveyed that concept to everyone around her. He had seen ample evidence in the demeanor of Lady Sandborne and Mary and Arthur toward her. When they noticed her at all, it was with the condescending kindness they might bestow on a feeble-minded scullery maid. It was as though her self-effacing style completely smothered the beauty and sparkle that lay beneath. My God, what had her mother been thinking of to so twist her daughter’s concept of herself?

“How did it happen?” he asked at last.

“A childhood accident. I was playing in the barn and fell from the loft into an armful of pitchforks that had been stacked against the wall. The doctor said I was lucky I had not lost an eye.” Josh shivered involuntarily, and Melody uttered a short, bitter laugh. “Sometimes, I used to think it would have been better if the pitchforks had pierced my heart.”

Immediately, she pressed her fingers against her mouth. “No, I do not mean that, of course. It was only my self-pity speaking. For, I must tell you, for a while, I fancied my life was over.” She essayed a weak laugh. “As you can see, I was a rather gothic-romance sort of young woman. I have since taken my mother’s words to heart and have, indeed, tried to make something of my life. I am content now.”

For a long moment, Josh said nothing. Then, leaning forward, he took Melody’s hand. “You very much mistake the situation.” Josh spoke softly, but he was surprised at the intensity he heard in his voice. “You must know that you are lovely, despite the care that you have taken to represent yourself as plain and uninteresting. You are obviously intelligent and possessed of wit. In addition, you are gifted with a magnificent talent. Any man would be honored to take you as wife.”

For several long moments, Melody was silent. Never had a man spoken to her thus! Her heart was pounding as though she were being pursued by demons and her stomach churned unpleasantly.

Why was he saying these things to her? Things she knew to be patently false, except for the part about her purposeful self-effacement. How had he discerned that, when no one else ever had? Otherwise the things he said were so absurd she would have laughed had she not been so astonished. Was he perpetrating some sort of cruel joke? She had been the butt of many such in the past, but somehow the Earl of Sandborne had not struck her as the type to amuse himself at another’s expense.

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