Just as she was thankful for it now, as her fingers traveled over the ivory keys of the piano in a familiar melody. They were back to their foolishness again, which seemed the order of the day. She had a scant few hours to spare in which she would be forced to say goodbye to the precious child at her side—and her equally precious father—and if Johanna lingered on the reminder too long, she would weep.
Far better to laugh.
It was an old trick she had learned in life. One which had always stood her in good stead.
“Your turn, Miss McKenna,” said Verity gleefully. “You must begin, and I shall sing the next verse.”
“You remember the rules of the game well, my lady,” she told the girl with a smile.
Verity smiled back at her, and Johanna’s heart seemed to clench. “Go now, Miss McKenna. Come up with something suitable for me to rhyme with, if you please.”
Johanna changed the melody and began a new song with ease, clearing her throat. “Very well, I shall. In a moment. Or perhaps two…oh dear, I cannot think of a single word to sing. Perhaps you ought to have your turn first, my lady.”
Verity giggled, seeing through the ploy and enjoying it just the same. “No, no, you cannot talk through the song, or else it is not a song, Miss McKenna. You must invent a verse.”
“I must?” She raised her brows. “Are you certain? I thought you said it was your turn to sing the first verse.”
“No!” Verity squealed with delight. “I said it must be you.”
Johanna pretended to ponder, all the while keeping her fingers moving over the keys. “Oh, I understand now. It must be you who sings first, correct?”
“Incorrect, Miss McKenna,” Verity said, laughing so hard, it was difficult to make sense of her words. “You must be the one who sings first.”
“Yes,” she teased, continuing to play. “You shall be the one who sings first. Go on, I am waiting.”
“Miss McKenna!” Felix’s daughter could not seem to manage a coherent word as she collapsed into another fit of giggles.
“Yes?” Johanna said, pretending to frown. “I have already told you I understand everything clearly. The first verse of the song will be sung by you. I only hope you will choose a verse that is an easy rhyme.”
“No,” Verity countered, still laughing uproariously. “That is not what I said.”
“I beg your pardon?” Johanna shouted as she pounded on the keys harder, filling the room with sound. “I cannot hear a word you are saying, my lady.”
“Stop!” Verity hollered at the exact moment Johanna ceased playing.
“Yes,” she said in an agreeable tone, as if she had not heard the girl at all. “I will begin playing once more while you contemplate the perfect verse. Do take your time.”
When she held her hands poised dramatically over the keys as if she were about to play again, Verity grabbed them, laughing.
“No, Miss McKenna! You are a silly goose, deliberately misunderstanding me.”
“Must I be a goose?’ she teased. “I would far rather prefer to be a different sort of bird. A duck, for instance. Or perhaps a swan.”
Verity’s giggles were interrupted by the salon door opening. There, at last, stood Felix on the threshold. The mere sight of him alone was enough to send a jolt of awareness straight through her, landing between her thighs where she still ached from all the times he had claimed her body.
“Papa!” Verity cried with delight, shooting from the piano bench and dipping into a perfect curtsy.
Remembering herself belatedly, Johanna stood as well, curtseying to Felix, which felt strange indeed given the closeness they had just shared. After waking skin to skin, formality between them seemed not just odd but almost painful.
Still, she reminded herself she must grow accustomed to it. Her time here was limited. Growing shorter with each tick of the mantel clock.
“Lady Verity,” he greeted, bowing formally as his gaze traveled to Johanna’s. “Miss McKenna.”
Their stares met and held. A jolt passed through her. A current she could not deny. Her heart was breaking, then and there, to know what she must do.
She swallowed against a rush of emotion. “Your Grace.”
He stared at her for a beat longer than necessary, and she could not help but to wonder what he was thinking. Had he regretted their passion together? Where had he gone this morning? What could have been the reason for his absence?
