He scratched his neck. ‘Without wishing to be rude…’
‘The last time you said that, you were spectacularly blunt.’
‘Well…’ he grinned, the teasing glint back in his eyes ‘…I suppose I was about to be, yes, and I would not want to be thought of as anything less than a gentlemen. Forget I saidanything and I will take the compliment you supplied me with, and that will be the end of things.’
‘Oh no. Do not think I am going to let you get away with it easily. What were you about to say?’ She knew he was about to insult her playing and she did not mind. It did not take a virtuoso to realise she was a terrible pianist.
‘I was going to suggest that perhaps anything sounded good after…’ He raised one eyebrow, his eyes shining with mischief.
‘Oh, I see. That is how it is, is it?’ Her cheeks ached and she realised she was smiling so widely, it hurt.
‘You can prove me wrong by practising and becoming better than me.’
He must understand as well as she did that she could spend the rest of her life pressing the keys; she would never be able to play like him. If he wanted to continue the pretence his ability was nothing special, she was not going to challenge him. At least not until she knew him a little better. ‘You are right,’ she agreed with him instead. ‘I will practise daily until I am a master.’
‘Very good. I shall look forward to it. Shall we say, the same time next week for another lesson?’
She nodded, her heart squeezing at the thought that she would get to do this again. Perhaps it would be a weekly thing. She could indulge herself by enjoying her time with him, but not get close enough for it to hurt her. Yes, she could do that. She had been compartmentalising her life for as long as she could remember; she could do so with Edward too. If a little flirtation with him kept her happy, it was not hurting anyone and no one need ever know. When her time was up at the Dashworths’ house, she would move on as she had done many a time before and she would remember her brief infatuation withthis handsome man fondly. For the first time, the months of her brother’s prolonged absence did not seem long enough.
Chapter Twelve
Breakfast was a chaotic affair at Glanmore House. All the family ate together and since the incident in the library, it seemed to Kate that she was expected to join them; somehow, having found Charlotte, she had become, if not quite family, then at least a trusted guest. The whole affair was less formal than an evening meal. Every member of the household helped themselves to food, talking over one another with rapid exchanges that were sometimes difficult to follow. Only Tobias was silent, like a giant rock in the centre of a rushing stream.
In the few mornings since she had started to attend these gatherings, she always found herself sitting opposite Edward. She would allow herself to glance at him occasionally, to take in the way his fine clothes fitted his body or how his dark hair sometimes fell across his forehead. Mostly, she busied herself in enjoying the delicious food served.
Charlotte always chose an uncle to sit next to and, for a reason Kate had yet to discern, liked to put Dolly on her chosen uncle’s head. Today it was Edward’s turn. After their shared afternoon in the music room, where he had tried to teach Kate how to playthe piano, she had barely been able to stop thinking about him. The way he had moved, the sheer talent he had displayed, had consumed her thoughts. They only saw each other at breakfast. He hadn’t sought her out and she had not looked for him, promising herself that if she kept their contact to a minimum, her feelings would not grow into something she could not control. So far, her plan was working, although it was hard to keep her eyes off him this morning while he was entertaining his niece. She had never worked in a house where a child was given so much loving attention. It was lovely to see, which was, of course, why she was watching so intently.
Charlotte appeared to use his head as a jumping-off platform for Dolly, who was being made to jump from Edward’s dark hair, to his shoulder and then perform a series of elaborate acrobatics, before returning to the crown of Edward’s head to start the process again. When Dolly swooped and dived, Edward made impressed noises like he truly believed the toy was performing such feats by itself. Charlotte would laugh delightedly, as if her uncle were the funniest man alive. After several of these manoeuvres Edward caught Kate’s gaze and shot her a sheepish smile. She smiled back and for a quick moment, the rest of the chatter and the scrape of cutlery on plates fell away and it was just the two of them.
That was until she noticed Christopher smirking at her. Face burning, she dropped her eyes, staring down at her plate. Her plan only worked if no one else suspected how she was beginning to feel. Becoming the object of ridicule or pity was something she intended to avoid like the plague.
‘Lady Albrighton has invited us all to a ball next week,’ Emily announced, a thick cream card in her hand.
‘As much as I would like to go, I am very busy that evening,’ said Christopher.
‘You do not even know the date.’
‘Alas, my calendar is so full, I know I will be unable to make it.’
‘Full of doing nothing,’ muttered Edward as Dolly did a nosedive in front of his face, landing beside his plate.
‘The ball will be the perfect opportunity to introduce you to more people, Kate,’ said Emily, ignoring the brothers.
From their many conversations, Kate knew Emily was not fond of balls, and for her own part the thought of entering a room full of strangers and being expected to dance in front of them was about as appealing as running naked down the street. ‘It is quite all right, Emily. I do not need to attend any balls.’ She popped some bacon into her mouth, the salty goodness so delicious she did not think she would ever get used to eating it.
‘Nonsense,’ said Emily, placing the card down beside her plate. ‘Mr Wright is a perfectly pleasant man but I do not think you have developed a tendre for him and you are not going to find a husband here. No, we must go. I am sure you will have many admirers and will be able to take your pick.’
Emily’s statement seemed to clang around the breakfast room, stopping every conversation immediately. Even Dolly sat still atop Edward’s head, as though waiting to see what would happen next. The bacon in Kate’s mouth turned solid and she chewed it frantically, desperate to say something, anything to end the cavernous silence.
Emily carried on, seemingly unaware of Kate’s desperate awkwardness. ‘I know I said you need not have a husband, and I still stand by my statement, but it turns out I do like being married myself.’ She smiled fondly at her husband; Edward and Christopher rolled their eyes in tandem like they had rehearsed the move. Normally, Kate would have smiled at their action, but she was too dismayed by the turn the conversation had taken.‘And’—Emily carried on, ignoring the brothers once more—’if there is someone out there for you, then I should like to help you find him.’
Kate swallowed, her mouth dry. ‘But…’
‘It also means we can go shopping for new dresses.’ Emily leaned over and squeezed Kate’s hand, which Kate knew had turned icy. ‘I am really looking forward to picking out the perfect fabrics for you. I have never really had anyone to go with before. Do say you will; it will be a treat for both of us.’
Charlotte chose that moment to begin talking to her uncles, thankfully drawing their attention away from Kate’s conversation with Emily. Sticking to her resolve not to look at him, Kate did not turn to see if Edward was still being used as a climbing apparatus for a doll or if he was following what was being said between the two women. The tendons in her neck ached with the effort of not giving in, but she found she did not want to see what he thought of her gaining suitors. If he did not care, it would hurt, but if he did… that might be worse for her heart in the long run.
Kate waited until Charlotte began babbling in earnest before she leaned towards her friend. Speaking quietly, she said, ‘Emily, I cannot go to this. It is not only that I have nothing to wear; if someone asks me to dance, I will make a fool of myself. I have only ever been to a few provincial gatherings when I was much younger. I have not danced in years and years.’
