Anne Barbour (32 page)

Hurriedly, she donned her habit, wishing uncharacteristically that she possessed one of more fashionable styling. At least it fit her better than most of her gowns. She reached for her hat, noting with a twinge of satisfaction that it, at least possessed a modicum of style. One of Lady Sandborne’s castoffs, it was fashioned as a military shako, with a dashing feather swooping down from the brim. Ruthlessly, Melody crushed it atop her hair and, pausing only to push a few stray tendrils under the brim, she turned toward the door.

Sometime later, my lord the Earl of Sandborne and Miss Melody Fairfax cantered sedately out of the stableyard, moving in the direction of the Home Farm. They chattered amiably of inconsequential matters, although Josh found himself hard pressed to keep his mind on the conversation. He had been summarily taken aback at Melody’s appearance upon returning to the breakfast parlor.

Her tailored habit revealed the figure that he had only guessed at previously. The soft swell of bosom and hip were perfectly delineated beneath the serviceable fabric. Her hat, with just a touch of dash, complemented her ensemble, and the jaunty feather that curved along her cheek served to mask her scar.

Her countenance fairly shone with anticipation, and the effect, combined with the impact of her sparkling eyes and her lovely smile, was altogether dazzling. My God, Melody Fairfax might not be a certified beauty, but without her protective shroud, her aspect was more than sufficient to set a man’s blood pounding.

They maintained their slow pace until they reached the hedge that formed the boundary between the farm and the open fields and woodland that lay beyond. Josh turned to Melody.

“Are you for a gallop?” he asked, smiling.

“Oh yes,” she answered gleefully. “It is one of the things I love most, peltering over the hills with the wind in my face.”

Suiting her words to action, she spurred the little mare provided her by Lady Sandborne. She waved gaily as she sped away over the frozen grassland, and, grinning, Josh clapped his heels against his mount. He experienced no difficulty in overtaking her, and neck and neck they flew toward the woodland that lay a few miles ahead. Upon reaching their destination, they halted, exhilarated and well-pleased with themselves.

“My, that was glorious!” exclaimed Melody.

They had by now entered the woods and lightly frosted leaves crackled beneath the horses’ hooves as they slowed to a leisurely walk. For a while they rode in a companionable silence.

“I have not heard you at the piano,” Melody said at last, “except as an accompanist.”

Josh drew in a swift breath.

“No.”

“You do not wish to take up your avocation?” She smiled. “Or are you still immersed in the ‘think’ method?”

“What? Oh. No. That is—I have been busy.” He added in a rush, “I’m not sure I wish to pursue my former hobby.” Josh found that he was perspiring profusely.

“Forgive me—Josh, but it seems like a slap in the face of God to turn your back on such a gift.”

Josh flushed. “I suppose it is, but.. . Oh, the devil take it!” he exclaimed, slapping his thigh with the reins he held loosely in one hand. “I have a good reason for not wishing to approach the keyboard,” he concluded stiffly.

He glanced at Melody, but her face revealed only a waiting courtesy. Impulsively, he jumped from his horse and held out his hand to help her dismount. She lifted her brows questioningly, but slid from her saddle into his waiting arms.

Noting abstractedly that his hands nearly spanned her slender waist, he began speaking.

“I started to tell you the other night about Dorothea, my fiancée. Our disagreement over my playing intensified over the course of our betrothal. Then, one night”—his green eyes grew distant—”I had been invited to perform at a concert given by some music students of my acquaintance. The money taken in was to benefit a proposed school of music.

“Dorothea did not want me to be a part of it. It
smelled, she said, too much like playing for hire. We argued at length, but in the end, I decided to participate. We were still brangling when I left her house. Shortly afterwards, she changed her mind and, remorseful, set out after me. It was in the autumn of the year and a hard, chill rain was falling. Her carriage broke down and she was forced to wait on the road for over an hour. She was soaked to the skin.” He drew a long, shuddering breath. “She caught an inflammation of the lungs and died within a week.”

“Oh!” gasped Melody. “How awful for you. But—’

Josh began walking, and Melody stumbled after him.

“Don’t you see?” he continued. “It was all my fault. It was my obsession with my music that had caused her death. Thus, music ceased to be my joy. I could not face the piano, for there was no song in my soul. I did not make a formal vow never to play again, but I have been unable to do so—at least until I accompanied you on the first night of my arrival. I became rather a recluse, I’m afraid and that’s when I started making treks into the wilderness.”

For a long moment, Melody gazed at him consideringly.

“And did your decision bring you happiness?” She spoke quietly, but with a slight edge to her tone.

“What?” he asked in some surprise. “I—well, I suppose I developed a certain sense of peace.”

“As well you might”—Melody continued, the sharpness in her voice now pronounced—”having abandoned all your responsibilities.”

“Responsiblities?” asked Josh blankly. “But, I had none.”

Melody whirled to face him. “Forgive me for saying so,” she said breathlessly, “but you left the family who had raised you, and it sounds very much as though you left your Uncle Eli in the lurch. In addition, you took it upon yourself to deny a talent that is given to very few. Such a gift comes with a responsibility, you know, to share it with others.”

Her voice shook, whether with temerity at her outspokenness or simply her anger, Josh could not tell. She paused for a moment to draw a long breath before plunging into her conclusion. “It seems to me, my lord earl, that you have been wallowing in self-pity and what one can only consider your ridiculous feelings of guilt. How could you possibly feel responsible for a rainstorm? Or the breakdown of Dorothea’s carriage? If she had loved you enough to accompany you in the first place—

“What?” said Josh again in outraged astonishment. He stepped forward to grasp her shoulders. “What the devil gives you the right to scold me like an errant schoolboy? I might say you have little room to talk, Miss Fairfax.”

“M-me?” squeaked Melody.

“Yes, you. You are an attractive woman, yourself possessed of a remarkable gift. Yet, you have let yourself be bullied by your family and you have chosen to hide yourself in clothes a scullery maid would scorn and to bury yourself here in a household that hasn’t the sense to appreciate the treasure in their midst!”

Melody wrenched herself from his grip and fell back a step. Dear Lord, what was she about? She had felt compelled by a force beyond her understanding to reach out to him, but how could she have spoken so to a man she barely knew, let alone one who was, for all intents and purposes, her employer?

For several moments, the two stared at one another in mutual mortification. At last, Josh spoke stiffly,

“Perhaps we should return to the house.”

Wordlessly, Melody swung about to her horse. Josh assisted her into her saddle, and they rode swiftly and silently back to the house. She did not see him again until that evening, when the family gathered for dinner in the Blue Saloon.

As it happened, Melody was the first to arrive there. What, she wondered in some trepidation, would be the earl’s reaction on beholding her this evening? When Josh entered only a few moments later, Melody stiffened, and after a mechanical exchange of pleasantries with him, fell silent. She turned and ran her hand self-consciously along the mantelpiece. Bringing her fingertip up for a thorough examination, she said at last in a colorless voice.

“I owe you an apology, my—Josh. I had no right to speak so.”

“I said a few unfortunate things, myself,” said Josh, a smile tugging at his lips. “Phew! Who would have suspected that such a spitfire lurked beneath the very proper exterior of Miss Melody Fairfax?”

Melody flushed. “I assure you, my lord, I do not ordinarily indulge myself in such unbecoming displays of spirit.”

“Then perhaps you should do so more often.” He lifted a hand to tuck away a tendril of hair that had escaped the confines of her cap. “Temper becomes you.”

To her discomfiture, his gaze intensified. “And I want to tell you—” He halted and dropped his hand abruptly as voices sounded in the corridor. A moment later, Mary and Arthur entered the room and Melody turned away hastily. Her heart pounded. What had he started to say?

During dinner, conversation was general, although as usual, Mary remained frigidly oblivious to the earl’s presence. By an unspoken agreement, the others ignored her display of bad manners. At length the countess spoke up.

“Now then, Josh, I want to talk to you all about the Christmas ball.”

“But,” he
said, bewildered, “I thought all the arrangements had been made. Mrs. Gresham told me we’ve been receiving notes for weeks accepting invitations that were sent out some time ago.”

“Yes,” intoned the dowager austerely. “But that does not mean everything is in place. I was not at all pleased with the foodstuffs sent by Gunter’s last year. The lobster was definitely off, in my opinion. I rather think we might try Fortnum and Mason this year. They have a much wider selection and their prices, so Cook informs me, are more reasonable. Also, they deliver in a more timely fashion, or so I am told.”

“Are not our own people capable of preparing the food?” asked Josh, startled. He had not realized the apparent scope of this family Christmas celebration.

“Yes, of course. That is, they do well enough for the ordinary things—pastries, sandwiches, and so on— but, for the more exotic items, such as lobster puffs and the
croquembouche
, a caterer is a necessity.”

“I see,” said Josh gravely. “I suppose the musicians must be hired in London, as well.”

“Well, naturally. In past years, we used a group from Canterbury, but the violinist and the cellist were, unfortunately, addicted to strong drink.”

“A common affliction among creatively endowed persons, I understand.” Josh’s tone was still serious, but Melody was not deceived. She perceived without difficulty the amusement that twinkled in his eyes.

An exhaustive discussion followed, mostly between Mary and Lady Sandborne, involving the merits of the various orchestras to be obtained in the city, as well as the quantity and quality of the food required for the ball, the quality of the candles, the placement of the greenery, and the advisability of allowing the guests’ children to participate in the festivities.

Melody followed the conversation distractedly. Her opinion on the critical decisions regarding the ball was not, of course, sought. Which, she reflected, was a good thing, since she was having difficulty fixing her attention on any of them. Her thoughts dwelled on what it was that the earl had wished to speak to her about.

She remained silent through the rest of the meal, and when the ladies rose, she cast her own gaze to the floor as she followed Lady Sandborne from the room. Her tactics were for naught, however, for upon the gentlemen’s arrival in the music room, Josh strode unerringly to where she sat and settled himself in the chair next to her.

“Will you sing for us tonight, little lark?” he asked in a low voice.

Since he had made the same request every night since his arrival, she was not surprised, but her pulse quickened—as it always did in response.

“Yes,” she replied, as she had every night, “but only if you will accompany me.”

“Of course, I will. In fact”—he hesitated—”I wanted to talk to you about that. What you said this morning—out in the woods— It made me very angry at the time. No,” he added hastily as Melody put up her hand in a defensive gesture, “I have thought about it—thoroughly.” He drew a deep breath. “And I have come to the conclusion that you were right. I have been indulging in what was really nothing more than a prolonged fit of the sulks for the last three years over an incident that, while it was undoubtedly a tragedy, was not my fault.”

Melody could only stare at him in astonishment.

“I shall always retain the memory of Dorothea in a corner of my heart, but I must finally admit to myself that she and I were not truly suited and would have made one another miserable.” He drew in a long breath. “I have, therefore, vowed to renew my acquaintance with the piano, I’m sadly rusty, and I shall probably drive the household mad, but I intend to practice diligently in order to regain whatever skill I possessed before flouncing off upriver.”

Josh did not reveal to Melody the extent of his further reflections during the course of his rather long afternoon. He had spent considerable time wondering why a few succinct, if more than somewhat infuriated, words from a woman he scarcely knew had effected such a profound response from him. Certainly, other people had told him he was being foolish to abandon his comfortable life in Philadelphia for the rigors of life in the forest. Uncle Eli had expounded at length on the subject, as had his friends, all to no avail.

Yet, one small, perceptive female had made him realize within a few short weeks of their acquaintance the futility and the self-indulgence of his behavior. Not only that, but she had engendered a certain joy in him—simply through the pleasure of her company.

He felt as though he had known her all his life. Such a trite phrase, but so very meaningful. During his time at the Court, he had learned more about her—her tastes, her opinions on everything from the Corn Laws to the Regent’s marriage to the poetry of Byron—and the more he discovered, the more he wished to know. Being with her was like embarking on an exploration of a new and fascinating country.

It was a fine thing, he told himself, to have found a friend among the alien corn.

He took her hand and led her to the piano. Seating himself, he drifted into the first chords of Purcell’s “Fairest Isle.” Hesitant at first, and then gaining strength, her glorious voice blended with the notes and for the next hour, oblivious to their audience, they made music together.