I shook my head and tried to smile. The truth that Ollie had not been the one to invite me here, that he perhaps didn’t even want me here, did bring me pain, but it was not her fault.
“I can’t help but wonder though,” she continued, “if perhaps things aren’t just as they should be.” Lady Winfield looked between Damon and me and smiled.
Guilt twisted inside me like a kite caught in the wind.
What she saw between Damon and me was nothing more than a carefully planned charade. Damon had no true feelings for me, and I had none for him. But what could I say that would not ruin our ruse and also not give Lady Winfield false hope?
“Now it isIwho must confess. I believe I’m better suited to your original machinations.”
Lady Winfield’s brow furrowed, and her gaze moved to where Damon worked in the road with the footman. They’d managed to wedge the branch under the wheel, but not without effort. Damon’s cravat hung loosely from his neck, and his hair fell across his forehead. The most incredible urge to run my hands through the inky strands blew through me like a gale. Sudden and strong.
As if he could feel my stare, Damon looked up and smiled.
I swiftly tore away my gaze.
Lady Winfield smiled. “I might be mistaken, but I believe my Damon would disagree.”
I bit my lip. If Lady Winfield believed Damon had developed an attachment for me, then our charade was working.Toowell.
I didn’t want anyone to get hurt—especially not Lady Winfield, who had been nothing but kind to me—but what could be done about it?
Admittedly, I’d reacted to Damon’s display of charm, but only because I’d been unprepared for our supposed courtship to be so public. But if I didn’t press on, Ollie would likely marry Miss Digby, and I couldn’t let him tie himself to a woman such as she. She’d revealed herself today when she’d flirted with Damon; she didn’t care one whit for Ollie. She was only using him to win a more coveted prize, the future Earl of Winfield: Damon.
Though I didn’t like misleading Lady Winfield, I took comfort that she’d invited me to Summerhaven to win Ollie’s heart, and that was exactly what I was trying to do.
My ruse with Damon had muddied the waters, but I had to stay the course.
Forallour sakes.
Chapter Fourteen
“Good luck, miss,” Nora said,stifling a yawn.
A flicker of guilt passed through me for making Nora rise so early, but then she handed me Mama’s sheet music, and I felt reassured in my actions. Ollie loved both piano music and the sunrise. And this morning, before the picnic, it was my plan for us to enjoy both. But first, I needed to practice—withoutan audience.
“Thank you, Nora. I will need it today.” As excited as I was for the picnic, to spend the whole of the day with Ollie, I dreaded seeing Miss Digby even more. She had been so cruel to me in town. I could only hope she would expose her true colors today.
Nora bobbed a curtsy, then closed the bedchamber door.
The corridor was as dark as a starless sky, the candles having all been snuffed out the night before. I hadn’t thought to bring a candlestick, seeing as I never rose this early. I almost turned back to ask Nora to prepare one for me, but she’d already sacrificed enough sleep on my behalf.
I placed a hand on the wall to guide me and padded down the corridor. I’d dressed in a long-sleeved morning dress and thick shawl, but I still shivered. Grim-faced portraits lined the corridor, and although I couldn’t see them, I felt their disapproving glares.
Clutching Mama’s music to my bosom, I made my way to the grand staircase and carefully descended. The entry hall was as dark and drafty as the corridor upstairs, but when at last I reached the morning room, a fire burned in the hearth. I closed the door behind me, not wanting to wake anyone, then sat at the pianoforte.
As I lifted the lid, I marveled first at the pale-blue Jasperware cameos and then at the keys. This grand instrument contained so many more octaves than Mama’s sturdy square one at home. Finally, I spread Mama’s sheet music on the elegantly carved music holder and then laid my fingers on the keys with trepidation.
At home in London, I’d played Mama’s melody almost every day, but it had been weeks since I’d practiced. I began with scales to warm up my fingers, then played a few simple songs from memory. Finally, I set my hands on the piano keys for Mama’s song. I played the notes correctly, though awkwardly. I took a steadying breath, trying to relax into the song’s rhythm, but there was nothing for it; I was a fawn attempting to stand on unpracticed legs.
Mama had taught me to play her square pianoforte as a young girl by placing my fingers atop hers. I had loved sitting with her on the bench, the gentle way she’d guided me through the measures. But as I’d grown into a young woman, I didn’t have the patience for practice. I wish I had been able to cultivate it though, because there wasn’t a day that passed now that I didn’t long for her music. Now, the harder I tried to master Mama’s song, the worse I played.
By some miracle, I made it through the first page. But when I reached the second, I hit a wrong note. And then another. And yet another.
“Drat!”
A chuckle came from the door. Theopendoor, I discovered with horror.
I peeked over my shoulder. Damon stood in the doorframe. He wore a dark-blue redingote and buckskin breeches and had a riding crop tucked under his arm. He really was handsome.
