I watched in awe as James played a song I had never heard before. His hands pounded the keys strongly, then melted into soft trills that wrenched at my heart and left me captivated. The song was haunting, happy, and full of aching despair, all at once. The piece that he chose to play suited him to perfection, and I hoped the song would never end. I loved it.
When the music softened again, I knew the performance was coming to an end. I realized I had been holding my teacup so tightly it could have broken in my grasp. My throat tightened as a tear slipped from my eye. I swiped it away unnoticed.
The last note hung in the air, and the room burst into applause. I set my teacup down and almost clapped my hands too, but stopped myself.There was yet another thing I could no longer do. I held my hands in my lap quietly, feeling a fresh wave of emotion overcome me.
James stood from the bench, accepting the compliments from around the room. Lucy grinned up at him and he smiled back. She said something, but I didn’t hear. He laughed.
My heart sank a little further. Lucy was much kinder than me—surely she deserved a man like him. Perhaps I should have sent his love letter to her after all. She seemed to like him well enough, and he didn’t seem to be very opposed to her either. The thought made me sad for a reason I couldn’t explain. Then his eyes met mine from across the room and I caught my breath again. I hoped my tears had dried away.
“I didn’t know you could play so beautifully,” I said as he reclaimed his seat beside me. “Whose piece did you play? I have never heard it.”
“It’s mine,” he said, meeting my eyes.
“You cannot be serious!” I struggled to find the words for how I felt. “You are—you are a magnificent composer.”
“Flattery will not increase my affection either, you must know.” He grinned, and I found myself thoroughly enjoying this little joke we now shared.
My eyes wandered longingly to the pianoforte. James noticed.
“Do you miss it?”
I dropped my gaze. “Yes. But I shall never play again.” I remembered with a jolt of embarrassment how I had behaved the day of my injury, sitting on the bench, pounding on the keys and crying. James had sat beside me. Surely he had known how dearly I loved the instrument. Or perhaps he had excused the whole thing as a tantrum. As I thought of how I must haveappeared, I felt a fresh wave of humiliation. A tantrum was much more like it.
“Music will not part from you unlessyouabandon it,” James said. His eyes were serious, and I had no choice but to listen. “Why should you never play again? You might still find a way.”
I held up my injured hand with raised eyebrows. “Icannotplay the pianoforte without fingers. It simply isn’t possible. I will never play the same way again, no matter how intently I try.”
He studied my face for a long moment. He was thinking, jaw clenching and unclenching, eyes moving fast. A slow smile lifted his lips. “Yes. You will.”
I scowled. “How?”
“Are you otherwise engaged tomorrow afternoon?”
“Not at all.” I was still confused.
“Do you think Mrs. Abbot would object to us using her pianoforte?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“She assured me I was always welcome. But why?—”
He stopped me. “I am going to teach you.”
“Teach me what?”
He leaned forward, smiling widely. “How to play music the way you did before.”
He was being ridiculous. I stared at him with disbelief, tempted to roll my eyes at him like I used to. “Very well. But I still don’t believe it to be possible.”
“I have proven you wrong before, have I not?”
I pressed back my smile behind compressed lips. “I suppose so.”
James chuckled. “Well, I intend to do it again.”
I looked into his smiling eyes, and dared myself to hope, to trust. If nothing else, it would be an enjoyable afternoon with a friend. A dangerously handsome, endearing friend. Another cursed blush tingled on my cheeks.Drat.I would need toenforce some very effective protection around my heart if I wanted any hope of keeping it.
“Until tomorrow then,” I said in my most proper and cordial tone.
He smiled. “Until tomorrow.”
