Amelia waited for her to continue perusing the room, but she did not.
“Lady Norwich,” their beaming host called, “I have been told you wish to play for us. Perhaps you would be willing to begin our evening?” And then she stepped aside, gesturing to the pianoforte, with a kind smile that told Amelia thatherintention was entirely innocent.
Amelia felt as if her heart were now settled somewhere in her throat, and her stomach had erupted into a veritable hornets’ nest. She looked at Lord Norwich, utterly flabbergasted, and was surprised to see him looking over her shoulder. Glancing in the direction of his gaze, she immediately saw the recipient of his thunderous expression: Miss Darby was staring at them smugly. Amelia clenched her teeth.
Well. That woman had certainly chosen a poor tactic to embarrass Amelia.
“I would be happy to, Lady Middleton. Thank you.” She began to stand, but Lord Norwich’s soft touch on her wrist stopped her.
“You do not need to do this,” he whispered. “I know you were—”
“Oh, but I think I do. I will be fine.” With that, she strode confidently to the front of the room, her unsettled nerves quieting at last as she sat at the instrument. She did not bother to rifle through the sheet music placed near the pianoforte, knowing exactly what she would play. With a bolstering breath, she glanced at Lord Norwich.
He was watching her with undivided attention, a slight smile pulling at one corner of his lips and causing his eyes to crinkle at the edges. Around him, various attendees whispered and gazed upon her with interest, but she did not pay them any mind.
Deliberately placing her hands on the keys, she began to play.
***
For weeks now, Edward had been convinced that Amelia was the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance. But now, with that fire in her eyes and a knowing smile on her lips as she prepared to play, he was nearly brought to his knees. If a room full of people did not separate them just then, he would be in great danger of kissing her senseless.
He still was, in all honesty.
Within seconds of her beginning to play, the room quieted, and he recognized the song. It was the one he had told her attempted to crawl into his chest and take up residence there. Had he really said that? How incredibly mawkish of him.
And yet, there the music went, settling within him yet again. It was even better when he was in the same room as Amelia, rather than sitting in the hall outside.
The song began softly. Slowly, with intricate trills and scales, it crescendoed until his chest fairly vibrated with the power of it. And then, without warning, it dropped to a near-whisper yet again. Perhaps that was what captured him so entirely. The complex song toyed with emotions and then left the listener wanting more. But more did not come and so the audience would only be able to hold onto the music in a sad attempt to fill the hole it left behind.
And thus, it successfully resided in his chest. The description wasn’ttoomawkish, being that it was entirely accurate. At least, that is what he would tell himself in order to retain some amount of his manhood.
When the music ended—far too soon—the room was silent. Amelia blinked at her hands still resting on the keys. He saw her chest rise and fall once. Twice. And then applause erupted like thunder throughout the crowd. A few people even came to their feet, clapping enthusiastically. Amelia stood and curtsied, looking marginally overwhelmed. Edward glanced briefly at Miss Darby and was gratified to see her pinched lips and flared nostrils. The woman had chosen an unfortunate gauntlet to throw.
Amelia made her way back to Edward, looking every bit the reserved daughter of a duke, with only one exception: her lips pulled together as if fighting off a triumphant grin. Edward did not try to withhold his own as she retook her seat.
The evening continued, though it took some gentle coercion to convince anyone to follow Amelia’s performance. Miss Darby was noticeably absent from those volunteering to perform, though she had touted her musical skill many times in the past. Subtly, and wholly lacking in propriety, Edward reached for Amelia’s hand. She did not look at him while he entwined their fingers together, but he did not miss the slight lift of her lips or the relaxing of her posture. It was momentous. Perhaps she could be softening toward him indeed.
“You fought admirably.” He leaned to whisper in her ear.
Her returning whisper sent chills down his neck. “Only admirably?”
“Magnificently?”
“Better.”
“It would seem it isyourconfidence no longer in need of bolstering,” he teased quietly, ignoring the look the matron in front of them shot at him.
Amelia’s eyes crinkled in the corners, but she did not respond until the matron turned back in her seat. “It is not,” she breathed, nearly silent, “but the fortification is appreciated even still.”
Edward bent his head even closer to hers. When her breath hitched, he felt inexplicable pleasure knowing he had caused that reaction. “Then I will also take this moment to tell you, not only was your playing incredible, but you look breathtaking this evening.” And from his current position, he could also ascertain that she smelled intoxicatingly wonderful. He would go mad having to sit beside her the whole of the evening. He straightened.
A light blush tinted her cheeks, making her, if possible, even more becoming.
Almost of its own accord, his hand squeezed hers. The returned pressure was relieving and enlivening.
In a single evening, it felt as if he and Amelia were suddenly united. In one way or another, he had been attempting to pretend as such for nearly the entirety of their marriage, but until this moment, it had never felt real. As he held her small hand within his own, he felt as if their marriage truly had a chance.
Chapter Twenty-Three
