It was a gamble. He could easily call her bluff. But she felt he wouldn’t. It would ruin tomorrow’s plan for Nestor, and Archie wouldn’t let that opportunity slip by.
A muscle in his jaw jumped, but that was the only outward sign of his anger as the first notes of the composition—hiscomposition—fell from his fingertips. She could have picked any one of his thirty-two compositions, but she’d chosen this one—the one they’d createdtogether.
She stepped away from the piano and returned to her seat in the front row. She wanted to watch his performance along with everyone else.
He began the piece slowly, so it sounded almost like a dirge, but despite himself, he entered the music. As he played, it was only him and the music, and everyone in the room sensed it, even if they didn’t fully understand it. How was this the Viscount Archer playingthatmusic? Skilled fingers flew across the keyboard, displaying his mastery of the instrument. Even if the room didn’t know the beautiful music pouring from his soul was his own composition, they witnessed his command and skill.
Valentina had never seen him more gorgeous than he was at this moment—the composition building on itself, gathering intensity, casting a spell over the room. She would wager not a single breath was drawn during the entirety of the performance.
Then the final notes echoed out and faded. Three beats of silence held before the assembled burst into rapturous applause.
Archie stood and gave a bow, his mouth held in the tight approximation of a smile, a far cry from the usual devil-may-care one all knew well.
All Valentina saw was thinly veiled fury.
He stepped away from the instrument and made for the front row…
Forher.
He stopped inches from her and held out a hand. “You’re coming with me,” he said, low and utterly, entirely intent.
“Now Archie—” began Delilah.
He shot his sister a silencing look. “This has nothing to do with you, Delilah.”
Her mouth snapped shut.
“We’ll cause a scene,”said Valentina.
And he smiled. Valentina didn’t like that smile. It held a menacing quality. “Oh, it’s nothing to the scene we’ll cause if you don’t come with menow.”
And that was how Valentina found herself arm in arm with Archie, being marched down the central aisle, curious, shocked stares and mutterings being thrown their way as they exited the mansion through the open set of double doors. As they strode into a moonlit garden, he remained silent. His pace didn’t abate as they followed one gravel path, then another, through shrubberies and rows of fruit trees, the garden growing more enchanting with every step away from the mansion and its music and the crowd’s chatter growing fainter. This garden was in the middle of London?
They stepped inside a walled-off portion, all grown over with vines and climbing roses. A secret garden, lit by small hanging globes. But she hadn’t time to stare in appreciation for she had a furious lord to contend with.
Archie dropped her arm and placed some distance between them before pivoting. This man had something to say to her.
Which was just as well.
She had something to say to him.
“Apologize,” he said—demanded.
She should’ve known he’d be capable of this sort of fury, but it still came as a shock. “I don’t believe I shall.”
She had some ground to stand, and she would.
His eyebrows lifted in perplexity.
She’d surprised him.
Good.
He cocked his head. “Do you think what you did was right?”
It was a genuine question. She would give him a genuine answer. “I’m not certain. But I do know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
