Fanny eyed him. “You’re doing this for the chit, aren’t you?”
His chest tightened. “I’m doing it for myself.”
“You can’t fool me, Corbett.” The bawd snorted. “Why don’t you just marry her and be done with it?”
Because she deserves better. Because I want her to have the best.
Because I love her… and always will.
Grier returned, announcing, “We’ve got a problem.”
“What sort of problem?” Andrew said.
The Scot shook his head. “It’s best you see for yourself.”
That didn’t bode well.
Getting to his feet, he shrugged into his jacket. “Lead the way.”
He and Grier hadn’t even made it to the front salon when he heard the brouhaha, the excited swell of chatter. He frowned.What the bloody hell is going on?The salon was packed with bodies. Men were craning their necks to see over one another, their attention centered on something… by the pianoforte? He couldn’t see through the throng, couldn’t guess what would captivate this raucous bunch. Surely not a musical performance—unless one of the wenches was doing it naked.
While that did happen occasionally, it never created a stir like this one.
Andrew pushed through to the front of the crowd—and stopped short.
His disbelieving eyes took inPrimrosestanding by the pianoforte. No longer dressed in widow’s weeds, she wore a vibrant yellow gown the color of her namesake. The diamond necklace he’d given her sparkled like dew around her throat. She was so beautiful that he ached just looking at her. Her eyes met his, and the expression in those jade orbs jammed his breath.
She said to Sally, who was seated at the piano (fully dressed—thank God), “I’m ready.”
Sally played the opening bars of a ballad.
Primrose began to sing, and the room fell silent as her voice floated into the air.
What's this dull town to me
When you’re not near….
Where all the joy and mirth
Made this town heaven on earth
Oh, they're all fled with thee
My own true love…
His throat clogged as she sang the words to him, her gaze never leaving his. He couldn’t believe that she was doing this. Couldn’t believe what she was sacrificing in doing so. All she’d ever wanted was respectability and now—
A part of him knew he should put a stop to this, salvage whatever part of her reputation he could… but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight his love for her any more. This glorious woman whose song reached his soul, chasing away the darkness and filling it with her own bright, unique light.
His Primrose. His love.His.
What when the play was o'er
What made my heart so sore
Oh, it was parting with
My own true love…
