He caught her gaze. Her happy, joyous gaze as she continued…and continued.
The guests sat frozen. Then a few stirred. Ladies reached for their fans. No one would dare to laugh and insult the daughter of the earl of Leith.
Would they?
He swallowed.
She continued. Her missed notes incited him to set his jaw and block up his ears.
The end?Where was it?
He’d not heard cacophony such as this since he’d witnessed a legion of French cuirassiers scream and cry as they raided a village in retreat from Waterloo.
But uncaring, Eliza plowed on and on…until at last, blessed peace prevailed.
Applause rose. Quick. Polite.
Eliza gave them a bow of appreciative courtesy and for him alone, she gave one of her little shrugs and a laughing moue.
What had she done?
Destroyed her reputation as the finest performer in any English drawing room.
Was something wrong with her?
Her voice?
Her heath?
No. Please God, no. That was not why she’d come to him, was it?
He would learn.
Chapter 7
Hours later, the house grew quiet. All were in bed. Their own…or Simms suspected, in others’ beds.
But that was their choice. Their issue.
He’d checked that the dining room had been emptied and tidied, ready for the elaborate breakfast they’d serve on Christmas morning. He’d seen to staff that their work was done, the housekeeper happy, Cook pleased and exhausted, trundling off to bed. He’d counted the silver. One must. One never knew if one or two on staff might have developed sticky fingers.
One last guest had arrived minutes ago. Quite late. But it was the Duke of Harlow, an honored leader of the Realm and society, and form what he gathered by her Ladyship’s correspondence, a new good friend of the Countess of Marsden. So fine a friend was His Grace that the good lady had allowed him to sleep in her bedroom! That was a courtesy of convenience since Marsden Hall was bursting at the seams with guests, staff and visiting servants. But it was not only surprising that the lady had welcomed the duke to her intimate chambers, but also that she seemed—hmmm, shall we say?—enamored of the man? That would be novel.
At any rate, Simms would have some peace with all his duties done for tonight. He might even get a few hours sleep…after he had a useful discussion with the lovely coloratura soprano who had totally destroyed any values to an old country ditty.
To that end, he took to the main staircase up, two steps at a run…and halted at the landing.
Prudence demanded he should access Eliza’s room by a safer route. Hell, if he was honest with himself…and he should be, that was the very reason why he’d put her at the top of the hidden stairway from the library on the first floor!
No use lying to oneself now, eh?
He swung around and jogged to the far end of the hall. Gingerly, he slid open that door to see no one inhabited the room. Thank god. No one would spy him acting oddly.
He bounded toward the far inner door and entered the small access to the upper floors. In a minute, he was there.
At her door, knocking politely, he grew frantic. If her maid were in there with her, he’d be discreet and ask her to leave. If the girl wasn’t—and perhaps already abed, then…hmm, he’d have better opportunity to speak frankly. Wouldn’t he?
But no one answered her door.
