“Thank you,” she whispered.
And then she was gone, without further comment or question or demand. He tugged the covers up over his head with a curse.
Tonight had proven to him many things. That he could be dangerous. That he didn’t belong here. That he shouldn’t do the very thing he had just done. It was a tangled mess. And he feared it was going to get a great deal worse before it got better.
Worse, he feared that once he was forced to walk away from her, it would never be better again.
Chapter 17
Lizzie sat at the pianoforte, letting her fingers dance over the keys. Haydn’sSonata in C minorfilled the room around her, and she shut her eyes as she let her hands guide her. Her mind was so distracted, but she poured her passion into the music and allowed herself to think of Morgan.
Their night together had been magical. She had lain in her bed afterward, reliving the pleasure, yes. But also recounting the deep connection that pleasure had created. Deeper than ever before. She had no idea how he felt, but in some ways it didn’t matter. She knew her own heart. She refused to regret how she had allowed it to beat. She had punished herself for that very thing for too long.
And Morgan had reminded her that loving was worth the risk.
Itwasa risk, of course. All of it was a risk. She had no idea what would happen next. At breakfast, Hugh had declared he would speak to Morgan later about the events of the ball the previous night. Once he did…
Well, Morgan might be torn from her.
Even if he wasn’t, Morgan had made no promises to her. She had told him she demanded none. It was very possible he would be alarmed by the connection they shared. That he would push her away because he didn’t want to risk more. Or didn’t feel more at all.
She opened her eyes and looked toward the door. She was surprised to find the Duke of Roseford standing there, watching her. Her fingers fell away from the keys and she pushed to her feet. “Roseford, I did not see you there.”
He inclined his head. “Forgive me, Lizzie, I heard you playing from down the hall and had to come and listen. That particular sonata was one of my late mother’s favorites. You play it beautifully.”
She wrinkled her brow. She had known Robert for so long, though she’d never been as close to him as some of Hugh’s friends. Robert had seemed too big and too bold and too…well, too much. She had feared him because of his reputation, especially after her experience with Aaron. She’d seen him as a libertine, though he’d never been anything but kind to her.
In this moment, she saw pain on his face. Loss. And he reminded her of Morgan when he was at his most vulnerable. How could she not like him then? How could she not offer the little bit of comfort he seemed to require?
She retook her seat and smiled at him. “If that is true, then I shall begin again and play it for you in full.”
“Thank you,” he said, and entered the room. He settled into a seat and she began to play again from the beginning.
It was a long piece. As the music filled the room again, Robert shut his eyes and leaned back, seeming to soak in every note. And again, she saw the hints of how he and his brother were similar. She knew their relationship was strained and yet they were both trying.
So she poured all her hopes for their relationship into every note, as if she could will their friendship, their bond into deeper existence. They both needed it. And she wanted Morgan to have everything he needed in this world and more.
When she finished at last, Roseford opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Thank you, Lizzie. That was wonderful.”
She nodded and then shifted on the bench to more fully face her companion. “Have you seen Morgan…” She caught herself and shook her head. “…Mr. Banfield this morning?”
Robert arched a brow at the slip in propriety, but then he smiled. Something knowing. “Morgan. Should we talk aboutMorgan?”
She sucked in a breath. She had entered dangerous waters without truly meaning to do so. And yet here she was. “Why would I not wish to speak about him?”
“Do I need to answer that? Are we playing that game with each other? After all these years of acquaintance?”
She pursed her lips. He would push her, it seemed. “He—he works for my brother,” she said, and could hear how false that dismissal was. “We’ve become…friendssince we started working together on the garden.”
“Well, that is true if nothing else,” Robert muttered beneath his breath.
She ignored the gentle jab. “I’m interested in his well-being.”
Robert was quiet a moment. Then he got up and walked to the fireplace, where he watched the flames. “You know our father kept us apart. Some would say that made sense. That his bastard children were only half-blood and didn’t…deserve more.”
She arched a brow at the disgust that hung heavy in his tone. “What did you believe?” she asked.
He was quiet for what felt like forever, but his voice broke when he said, “Whatever he told me to believe for a very long time. My failing, no one else’s. Once I took over the estate, I never handled much but approving the payments to my half-siblings until recently.”
