She shrugged. “I thought perhaps this time would be different.”
“Why in heaven’s name would you think that?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Because I’m an incurable optimist, darling.”
He winced. “I do wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
“Then tell me your Christian name.” She could have asked her father, but she wanted Lord Whitcomb to tell her.
“Not this again. It will go far better for both of us if we keep things formal.”
Stubborn man. “I have no desire to do any such thing. I know you don’t believe it yet, but you’re my perfect match. The Widow of Whitehall doesn’t make mistakes. I’ve spoken to three different ladies who used her services, and all are so deliriously happy in their marriages that they can do nothing but sing Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s praises. Why don’t you give in and tell me your name? I’m certain you didn’t make your first wife call you Whitcomb.”
He breathed in sharply and closed his eyes. The silence between them stretched longer and longer until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Are you quite well, dearest?”
His knuckles turned white as he squeezed the arms of the chair. Suddenly, his eyes flew open—those lovely eyes, so deep and golden that she wanted to drown in them. But at thatmoment, they were crackling with thunder and lightning. “I will say this only once. I know you meant no offense, but please, don’t ever mention my departed wife again.” His voice was so low and cold that it made her shiver.
She’d gone and offended him somehow, though she couldn’t fathom why mentioning his former wife would have such an effect. Did he love her terribly? Was he devastated by her loss? What ifthatwas why he refused to open his heart to her now? Oh, she had gone and put her foot in it, hadn’t she?
“I…I’m so sorry, my lord. I didn’t mean to raise a painful subject. I’m certain you must grieve every day. I can’t imagine losing my beloved like that.”
He stood abruptly and retreated to the farthest corner of the room, pacing back and forth on the other side of the pianoforte.
She rose to join him, but he barked, “Don’t,” forcing her to flee back to her seat.
Confound it!This wasn’t going at all as she hoped. Mrs. Dove-Lyon had warned her to give him time to come around. But patience had never been her forte.
“I promise I won’t say another word,” she called out. “Please do come sit down again.”
His shoulders slumped, and he trudged back to his chair with the look of a man approaching the gallows. He sank into it without once looking up at her.
Again, silence stretched until it was deafening. She had a thousand questions about his past, but he had made it quite clear that he didn’t want to hear them.
What was a safe subject that she could raise? There had to be something that wouldn’t raise his hackles. Finally, she found something. Perhaps. “Where shall we live once we’ve wed?”
Houses were a safe thing to talk about, weren’t they?
“In my townhouse in Mayfair; at least until the three months are up.”
He was quite determined to get rid of her, wasn’t he? And after how she had bungled things yesterday morning, she could hardly blame him.
“And after that?” she asked with a mix of anticipation and dread.Please don’t let him send me off to some crumbling castle in the North. But he was her knight in shining armor. He wouldn’t do that, would he?
He made a rumbling noise in his throat and stared fixedly at the carpet.
Silence descended a third time, as she hadn’t the faintest idea how to respond.There has to be some way to pull him out of his black mood.What she needed was some way to distract him and pull him from his brooding thoughts.Aha!She had just the thing. “Do you like music?”
“What?” he grumbled to his hands.
“I could sing something for you. I think I know exactly what would lighten your mood.”
He didn’t respond, so she headed for the pianoforte, seated herself, and started to play her favorite ballad. In truth, she was doing it as much to calm herself as to entertain him. If she didn’t do something, worry would consume her completely, and that wouldn’t do at all.
While she sang of a farmer’s daughter who met a stranger in the mountains, the accompaniment ran from her fingers like a cheerful brook on a sunny day after the rain. The rollicking rhythm reminded her of children’s laughter. Whenever she sang this, she thought back to summers in the countryside with Arthur when they were young and carefree. So if this didn’t lighten his mood, nothing would.
Sure enough, when she looked up, his gaze met hers, there was a hint of softness and warmth in it that heartened hergreatly. So her knight appreciated music. She could work with that.
As she continued to sing, the corners of his mouth turned up in a hint of a smile. It was working! The furrows in his brow uncreased, and he leaned forward in his seat, his expression one of bemused enjoyment. If this was what it took to melt his heart, she would play for him every hour of every day. As she watched him watch her, she couldn’t help thinking that there was hope for them after all.
