“My apologies, Your Grace,” she said, already backing toward the doorway. “I shall disturb your peace no longer.”
Then she fled.
Before she could ruin Mozart for him forever or the pianoforte for herself!
The music room exhaled behind her—banked coals, ticking clock, the faint sweet of lemon oil. She gathered what remained of her pride and slipped into the cooler corridor.
She turned the corner—straight into a wall of coat and chest.
“I’m terri—”
A single, alarming sneeze burst from a stranger. Heat. Damp. On her cheek.
Well, why not?
His hands found her arms—steady, apologetic—large and warm enough to fluster her in spite of everything.
“That will do,” she said, voice even. “You sound unwell. To yourchamber and a hot brick, sir. And a handkerchief.”
His hands dropped and she started to bypass him with what little dignity remained, sleeve wiping at her cheek.
But when he looked up, she blinked.
He was… red. There was no kind word. Red nose, chapped lips, eyes glassy from illness. His skin was nearly translucent.
She wasn’t shallow. Maddie prided herself on seeing character, not countenance. But this? This was not character. This was contagion!
She shuddered and stepped back. “Please take care not to sneeze on other people.”
“I—”
She marched off without another word, scrubbing at her face harder. She didn’t slow until she reached her room—only then did she let herself breathe again. Yet even then… those watery eyes haunted her. How his gaze made her heart flip! And looking at his eyes, they were surely the window to a brooding soul. This curiosity had to be stifled, she decided.
May she never cross paths with that man again.
*
Swish!
Sebastian stood blinking in the hallway. What he saw—no, whom he saw—could only be a mirage brought on by frostbite. That young woman in pink? Far too lovely to be real. He gulped. Or… could she be real?
The girl in the light rose gown rushed past, skirts fluttering like petals. She vanished through the tall double doors toward the noisy chatter spilling from the Oak Room.
And just like that, she was gone.
He stared after her.
This wasn’t wise. He should’ve stayed atthe stables with Paul, his coachman. Since his father passed, Thomas had poured funds into his beloved horses. Two four-stall stables, two coach houses, grooms’ quarters, and a small private brewery that produced everything from stout ales to something suspiciously like mulled cider. The point was the stables were warm. And Paul didn’t expect conversation.
At least Paul could warm his toes. Sebastian had frostbite and a bruised ego on top of the chills.
But the pink girl—the lovely one—had scolded him.Righteously.And he couldn’t stop replaying her voice in his head.
“Ha-ha-choo!” As if to prove the point, a fresh sneeze rattled his body.
He groaned. Even his sneezes sounded tragic.
His nose ached from over-wiping. His boots still squelched with dampness. The wind shrieked outside, snow brushing the windows. And somehow, even shielded by the walls of this grand castle, he was still cold, inside and outside.
