CHAPTER 1
“Father, did you hear what I said?” Thalia Carter asked, standing on the periphery of the drawing room while guests played their games and chattered amiably.
A small party of a dozen or so, invited to dine by her father, Gibbs Carter, the Viscount Farhampton. Small by his usual standards, anyway.
“Hmm?” Her father raised his head, dislodging a stringy piece of the thinning hair he tried so hard to comb into a false fullness.
“Well, that rather answers my question,” Thalia mumbled, her gaze traveling back toward the small figure at the pianoforte. “I was just remarking upon how well Dorothy is playing. Is she not quite the talent?”
Her father sniffed as if he had smelled something unpleasant. “What do I care for all that? Indeed, I have been thinking of selling the wretched thing. I cannot stand the sound of it.”
“Sellingit?” Thalia’s head whipped toward him, staring at him in disbelief. “But Dorothy adores that pianoforte.”
“Yes, well, when she is married one day, I am sure her husband can furnish her with another and then it shall behimwho has to endure the relentless hours of the same song played over and over,” her father muttered in reply, even more short-tempered than usual.
In truth, he had not been himself throughout the entirety of the dinner party, picking at what was placed before him, saying very little when, ordinarily, he liked to be the very center of attention. Several times, some guests had discreetly asked Thalia if he was quite all right, and she had been forced to make up a white lie about a headache.
If only it were something so simple.
“Goodness, whatisthe matter with you this evening?” she remarked to her father, bracing herself for a sharp rebuke.
Still, it had to be mentioned. He had been in a foul mood for days, to the point where Thalia did not know why he had insisted on going ahead with the dinner party at all. It would have been better for him to postpone it instead of behaving in such a sullen, rude manner.
Better yet, not to host the party at all. For there were things that Thalia knew that she had not yet had the courage to discuss with him, things that would put anyone in a dire mood.
“Nothing is the matter with me,” he shot back. “It is that wretched music; I cannot bear it another moment. Excuse me.”
Turning on his tail, her father marched out of the drawing room, though none of the guests seemed to notice his departure. Only Dorothy, Thalia’s younger sister, clocked the abrupt exit and, with a disappointed frown, slowed her playing to bring the song to a close.
Passing the mantle of entertainer to one of the other ladies present, Dorothy came hurrying over to where Thalia stood.
“Did I displease him so?” Dorothy asked, chewing her lip nervously.
At thirteen-years-old, the poor thing still desperately sought their father’s admiration and attention. And at nineteen-years-old, Thalia could not deny that there was still a part of her that did, too.
But Gibbs Carter did not bother himself with something as useless as daughters, and probably never would, unless Thalia suddenly came to him with news of a proposal from some exceedingly wealthy prince or lord. Alas, her first Season had not gone particularly well in terms of anyone of extreme fortune showing the slightest bit of interest in her.
I have not solved all of his problems, so what use am I?
The same, however, could not be said of their brother, Kenneth.Hecould never lose their father’s admiration, having become a shining example of a young gentleman: stern, dutiful, capable, and fortunately lacking most of his father’s traits.
“You did nothing wrong, my dearest,” Thalia assured her sister. “He is just in one of his moods.”
Dorothy dropped her chin to her chest, but not fast enough to hide the tear that leaked from her left eye. “He hates everything I do.”
“Oh, my darling, that is not true,” Thalia urged, putting an arm around her sister. “No, no, you must not think that way.”
“I heard him say he means to sell the pianoforte,” Dorothy murmured, her shoulders shaking with the effort of trying not to cause a scene.
Thalia frowned. “Just now?”
“This morning,” Dorothy replied. “I do not think he knew I was there, but I heard him discussing it with Mr. Healy. Oh, Sister, if I do not have my music, I do not know how I shall survive. I thought… I could change his mind if I played so very well tonight, but it seems I have just vexed him all the more.”
Anger bristled in Thalia’s veins, wishing she were just a little bit taller, a little bit stronger, a little bit more imposing, so she could slap some sense into her father. Some decency, at the very least.Selling off the pianoforte would barely make a dent in Gibbs’ troubles, but that instrument meant everything to Dorothy: to her, it was priceless.
No, he shall not get away with this tonight,Thalia vowed.Tonight, Ishallmake him listen. I shall not let him make my sister cry again.
Thalia straightened up. “You run on to bed now, my dearest Dottie. I will speak to Father. I will see to it that no harm befalls your beloved pianoforte.”
