“For your sake, as well as that of anyone you love, I hope that you never do.”
Jackie thought about his words as they left the room, going their separate ways. She wondered just how tormented her father had been all that time, and why he felt the need to carry such a burden instead of talking to his daughters about it. Suddenly, however, her thoughts were broken by the sound of pianoforte.
She thought Elizabeth had been asked to play, but only for a moment, for whoever was playing sounded nothing like her sister. Elizabeth had always played well, but daintily, as if afraid of damaging the keys. This was something else entirely, haunting almost, as if they were taking out their sadness through music, and Jackie felt a connection to that.
Following the sound, she arrived in a music room to see the duke himself at the pianoforte, his back to her. There was no sheet music as far as she could tell, proving that he was not simply mimicking a work by a composer. It was his own piece that he had written, and Jackie could not help but be enthralled.
She knew that it was not proper of her to approach him, as they could not be alone together but also because he seemed to be in want of privacy, but she could not think properly. All that she could do was listen, and feel. She sat in a chair nearby, watching him play for a moment and studying him.
He was sitting upright, just as a professional would, his fingers moving deftly across the keys. She closed her eyes, feeling asthough watching him made it too intrusive, as it was bad enough that she was there to begin with.
The piece was beautiful, but also filled with sorrow. Was this how the duke truly felt? Anguish, sadness, longing? He was in pain, she knew that, but she had never questioned how he felt beyond that. Was he angry about what had happened to him? Did he have regrets about what had led him to whatever had happened? Surely, he missed the life he had led before, but did he blame himself for his condition and therefore believe he deserved it?
Above all else, however, the only thing that came to mind was simply how sorry she felt for him. She had faced difficulties of her own, and the biggest had only just hit her, but at least she had always felt like herself. She wondered how it would feel to look in a mirror and not recognize the person before her, but she could not imagine herself any other way than how she was. Did the duke remember how he once looked?
Without warning, she felt tears stream down her cheeks. She wanted to pretend it was due to her argument with her father, but she could not lie, even to herself. She was crying out of sadness and pity for a gentleman that could have been so much more than a reclusive duke hidden away for fear that he would be hated.
The music ended, and she opened her eyes. She did not know how much time had passed, but she did know that her eyelashes were wet and there were spots of tears on her new gown. It hadbeen a beautiful song, and she would have asked him to play it again under any other circumstance.
She heard his stool creak, and as she looked up, she realized that he had turned around and was looking at her. She expected him to tell her to leave, or quickly put his mask on, but he did neither. He continued to watch her, his own eyes damp and his cheeks shining from tears of his own. She met his gaze, and even though she did not know anything further, she could not help but feel as though she understood him.
He had, indeed, not quickly placed a mask over his face, and so for the first time she saw him clearly. Leathery skin, just like his arms, and different mottled shades of brown and white and red. She had expected to feel some sort of disgust at his disfigurement, but it never came. Instead, she felt an immense feeling of anguish in his place for how much pain he had to be in, not to mention how horrible the physical pain must have been when it happened.
Studying him further, she realized that she could not feel disgust, simply because in spite of the scarring he was indeed still a very handsome man. There was a kindness to him that not even a terrible accident could take away, and even after everything that he had been through he had not allowed himself to become bitter, and that was all she needed to know when deciding the contents of his character.
She wanted to make him feel better, to take his pain away so that he would not be hurt anymore, and the thought of it madeher freeze. She had never felt that way before for anyone, and she knew exactly why that was. The duke was a handsome man, a kind man; the sort of man that she could find herself attracted to.
Which was certainly something that she had not expected to discover.
Chapter 11
Sometimes, Philip felt as though his only outlet was music. It communicated his heart and thoughts far better than his words ever could, even back when he was good at socializing. While playing, he could forget his position in life and every bad thing that had ever happened to him, and do something he truly was good at.
He hadn't expected an audience when he turned around.
Typically, no one was permitted into the music room when he was there. There was a sort of judgment to it that he could not stand, even if it were his own mother. He had been biding his time before showing Lady Jacqueline his face, but his efforts had been in vain, because there she was behind him, staring at him.
He should have been appalled, and he knew that, but then he saw the tears in her eyes. He hadn’t been ready, but he had to admit that he could never have prepared her for what he looked like. Even so, when he looked into her eyes, he did not find disgust or pity in them. Even his mother had pitied him too much for too long.
It was a refreshing change, as though she understood him. He laughed at himself, for it was a strange and impossible thing to think, but it was his thought all the same.
“My apologies,” she said at last, wiping her tears away. “It was terribly rude for me to intrude on you, but I… you play beautifully.”
“Do you think so?”
“Most definitely. I have never known a man to be so skilled, nor so genuine, with a pianoforte or otherwise.”
He quickly wiped his face. There were many ways that he had been described throughout his life, but that had never been one of them.
As he finished drying his face, he considered turning his back to her once more. She had seen him, and that had to be enough to satiate any curiosities she had had, yet he still could not see any sort of aversion in her eyes. For the first time since the accident, he dared to maintain their eye contact, and she did not shrink away from it.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he replied. “I must admit, however, that I am not used to having an audience when I play.”
“That is a terrible shame.”
“Do you… like music?”
He was waiting to see some sort of disgust in her face, and it made it so difficult to continue being so open with her, even if he truly wanted to try his best to be.