It rained terribly all throughout the performances, so that a constant background noise of pitter patter against the windows accompanied each melody. Sebastian did not mind so much. He’d always found the rain to be romantic, in a way.
Throughout, his gaze wandered frequently to Miss Browning. Each time, he found her looking at the players with a kind of open curiosity, both assessing and taking in, discerning and receiving, as though making a thoroughly academic study of thewhole thing. She did not appear to lose herself in it the way that Sebastian so often liked to lose himself in music.
So she’d been truthful then; music was not her strength. Perhaps she lost herself in those books she’d spoken of instead. The feeling was bound to be the same, with only a different mode of arrival.
Maybe they could find common things to lose themselves in. Bookstores. Theaters. Operas. Museums. London was a playground of such things, and marriage would allow an entire lifetime in which to accomplish the feat.
Now, if only she would speak to him without trying to escape.
With his mind affixed to finding an opportunity to speak with her, the moment in which the players plucked their final strings could not come soon enough. By the time it did, he found himself eager to stand and be in her company once more.
It did not take long, after the performances ended, to see that there would be no dancing on the agenda. People instead milled about, some taking turns about the music room, others disappearing into other parts of the house to engage in more intimate conversations.
His surprise and disappointment were of equal measure when he turned to find that Miss Browning had slipped into the fray, leaving Browning to himself in their row.
“Looking for my sister?” his friend asked in a teasing tone.
“I…yes.” Not as eloquent as he’d hoped, but it was a start. “I am, actually.”
“Hm. Are we to have another conversation in my study soon, then?”
He would have a day to decide how to approach this, then. “Yes, of course, that would likely be for the best.”
Browning gave a curt nod. “In that case, I should tell you that my sister has likely made her way to the library, where I am sure she is alone, and therefore it would be highly improper for you to go and find her.”
“I see.” And indeed, he did; beneath Browning’s warning was just the smallest smile, a look of dare in his eyes that told Sebastian far more than his words did. “I suppose I shall find my way to some other place, then, that isnotthe library.”
“See to it that you do, chap.”
The door to the library was located down a long hallway with few other rooms, and no stragglers nearby. Only small gas lamps cast long shadows across the space, lending to it an eerie, abandoned quality.
He paused outside of the library doors. It occurred to him for the first time that he had never wooed a woman with the intention of marriage before. Thus far, it had not proved much different than his other experiences, but it did feel far more significant. His debts would pass, but this tryst was forever. His solution to his father’s sins would bear his children and determine his happiness for the rest of his life.
In the end, he told himself that all things involved risk, and perhaps this was a gamble of his own. Apparently, he was his father’s son.
Slowly, he pushed the oak door open and slipped into the darkened room.
He did not spot her right away, as the light was so low that everything appeared as shadow. Rain pounded against the windows, creating a cacophony of sounds that threw him off-balance. Finally, as his eyes adjusted, he found her at such a window looking out at the storm.
She had not, it seemed, heard his intrusion, and so he hadthe good fortune of seeing her unguarded as she watched the violence raging outside. Though her expression was not visible to him, he could tell by the way her head cocked to the left that she was entranced. He recalled what she’d said yesterday, about loving gothics and tales of great romance. He did suppose that a library in a rainstorm would play into that. Much the better for him, if she were of the mind to be fanciful tonight.
“I see we share a love of the rain.”
Miss Browning might have leapt out of her skin for all that she startled. She twisted, a hand curled into a fist over her chest.
“My lord, I did not hear you come in.”
“It’s quite alright, I assumed the library would be empty,” he lied. “When I saw you in here, I realized we must both have an admiration for dreariness.”
Miss Browning glanced back at the window and the rain before turning to him once more, as though she had forgotten that they had been the objects of her attention only moments before.
“Yes. Well. I apologize, I shall take my leave and let you have the place.” She gave a quick curtsy and began to walk toward the door.
“Wait.”
She halted, turning back to him with a question in her eyes.
“Stay.”
