As far as she could tell, the room had been purpose-built for hosting events like this. There were rows of seats curved around a central dais, where there was an impressive collection of instruments just waiting to be played.
The colors were bold—predominantly shades of blue and gold—but the decor itself was understated. Sophisticated.The chairs were plush and comfortable, and she’d spotted at least one priceless work of art on the walls.
That was to be expected, of course.
Mr. Durant may not be an aristocrat, but he was exceedingly wealthy. He could buy and sell most of the peerage, if he so desired.
The next performance began. A young woman—perhaps a relation of the Wembley’s—played the harp. She was reasonably skilled, but her face was taut with nerves—hardly surprising given that she was following Mrs. Durant—and Sophie applauded louder than necessary when she was done.
A gentleman replaced the harpist and positioned a violin on his shoulder with a flourish. He then proceeded to play it very, very badly.
His body swayed to the music, and he seemed lost in a melody that existed only in his head.
Nicholas raised an eyebrow and pointed to the cotton in his ears. Sophie scowled. Perhaps he hadn’t been entirely wrong about the need for ear protection. She’d gratefully block out this ruckus if she could.
At least the poor man didn’t realize how terrible he was.
As he—finally—finished, she leaned close. “All right, I understand, but don’t you dare wear those while I’m playing.”
His fathomless black eyes crinkled at the corners, humor dancing in them. “I would never.”
She waited until her name was called and made her way onto the dais, the nerves she’d been trying to ignore curling in her gut. She glanced at Nicholas, mollified to find him in the process of removing the cotton from his ears. Her mother beamed at her and sent her a subtle gesture of encouragement.
Sitting at the piano, she was pleased to see that the music book was already open to the song she’d informed them she intended to play. She rested her fingers on the keys, inhaledslowly, and waited a moment before allowing herself to plunge into the deep, soulful piece.
The song was one she could easily perform. She tended not to stretch herself too much during performances. They unnerved her enough without making her worry that she might stumble over a note.
Her gaze on the page didn’t keep pace with her fingers, and she closed her eyes so the musical notes wouldn’t distract her, intent on feeling the music in her heart and letting that guide her.
The melody grew to a crescendo, layers of harmony collapsing in on each other until only one remained, true and clear. At the top, she paused for half a breath. Just long enough to build anticipation before surrendering to the song once more.
When she finished, she remained at the instrument for a few seconds, catching her breath. When she’d gathered herself enough that her legs could hold her weight, she stood, turned to the audience, and curtsied, then she hurried down the stairs and toward her seat.
As Sophie passed her mother, she smiled and whispered, “Well done.”
Sophie warmed inside. It wasn’t often that Lady Carlisle praised her. More often, she was chastised for being too forthright or, inversely, for holding too much of herself back.
She knew her own flaws. Sophie tended to either leap into things wholeheartedly or keep them at a distance and display no interest at all.
“Bravo,” Nicholas murmured. “That was exquisite, Lady Sophie.”
Her cheeks heated, and she pressed her fingertips to them, silently reminding herself that he was referring to her playing and not to Sophie herself.Shewas not exquisite. “Thank you.”
He uncurled his hand to show the cotton on his palm. “I wasn’t even tempted to put it in.”
Lady Carlisle leaned closer on her other side. “Excellently done, my dear. You should be very proud of yourself.” Catching Nicholas’s eye, she continued, “Shouldn’t she, Mr. Blackwell? Playing such as Sophie’s is rare indeed.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “It is.”
“Certainly a trait to be admired,” her mother went on, doing her best to draw Nicholas’s attention to Sophie’s accomplishments.
Sophie wasn’t sure what she felt worse about: the fact that Lady Carlisle didn’t know that Nicholas wasn’t a real suitor or that he was subjected to her mother’s best attempts at matchmaking.
Potentially the former. Lady Carlisle had been so excited the first time Nicholas had called on Sophie to escort her on a walk in the park. When he’d offered to accompany them to the musicale, she had been ecstatic, confident that Sophie was finally allowing a worthwhile suitor to court her.
She’d be devastated if she knew the truth.
“I hold Lady Sophie and her musical prowess in the highest esteem,” Nicholas said, then fell quiet when the next performer ascended the dais.
