WANDERING
Wandering into the drawing room, Natalie’s thoughts remained with Garrett Castleton. There was more to him than she had thought. Was hetrulya rake? Was he a gentleman at heart? Upon leaving Raven’s Park, would he go back to his disreputable ways? And how was it that he appeared more handsome every time she laid eyes upon him?
Examining the handkerchief she’d been embroidering for the past twenty or so minutes, she cursed. Not paying attention had produced disastrous results. The delicate flowers were now a riotous splash of dandelions and weeds with no order whatsoever. Such work could almost be considered artistic if the back of the fabric didn’t consist of crazy knots and loops.
She jumped guiltily when her mother addressed her. “I cannot imagine what you have been thinking about that would cause you to lose your concentration.” Her mother gestured toward the handkerchief with a disdainful glance. “That fabric, I believe, is irreparable.”
The other ladies looked over at the embarrassing results in her lap and clucked their tongues. Aunt Eleanor winked.
The unwanted attention shifted to the entry when the gentlemen appeared, many still cradling their port. A few drifted out to the terrace and lit cigars, but Lord Ravensdale placed his hand upon the Duke of Monfort’s shoulder and steered him toward Natalie’s chair.
The duke, ever stoic, glanced at her blankly as he and her father took their seats upon the adjacent settee. “Good Lord,” her father exclaimed, “what on earth are you embroidering there, daughter? Has some newfound style for handkerchiefs come into fashion?” He laughed as Natalie tucked the offensive piece of cloth into the chair behind her.
“I’d like to see any embroidery you produced, Father,” she retorted. Parents could be so annoying.
The haughty duke raised one eyebrow at her.
Her father then remembered why he’d come over. “The duke here has invited your mother and me, and you of course, to join him on his estate. I was just telling him how much I thought you would enjoy such an outing. Especially since you’ve been confined to Raven’s Park all summer.”
Her father seemed to expect some sort of response, so Natalie forced herself to smile graciously. “Oh…um…that would be…er, lovely.” Argh! Had her father already drawn up betrothal contracts?
At last, the duke deigned to speak. “I maintain a first-rate stable and dressage arena upon my estate. Your father says you are an excellent horsewoman. Of course, you shall be most welcome to make use of the facilities.” Although his words were welcoming, his eyes were not. Such a cold man!
“How kind of you, Your Grace,” she murmured. And then out of nowhere she felt a heightened awareness. The air within the room was suddenly charged, much like the air outside before a summer storm.
Lord Hawthorne had entered. Casually propping himself against the back of a loveseat, he unashamedly observed her.He wasn’t smiling, but she sensed his amusement. He flicked his gaze toward a large floral arrangement and his eyes twinkled further. She nearly laughed out loud. He had remembered her desire to deter the duke’s suit.
The duke and her father continued their own conversation, Natalie more than happy to stay out of it. A few women gathering around the pianoforte plucked out some tentative notes.
Her mother beckoned. “Come over here, dear, and play for us.”
Dutifully, Natalie excused herself and followed her mother’s wishes. She actually enjoyed this feminine pursuit. Needing no written music, she placed her fingers on the keys and played notes she heard in her head. She in no way fancied herself a great musician, but she did enjoy entertaining others. It was a vanity she could live with and feel no guilt whatsoever.
Settling herself upon on the wooden bench, she began in the upper register with a few convoluted scales and arpeggios from left to right. As her mood lifted, she interspersed personal melodies with songs she’d memorized years ago. She did not play loudly. She played so people could continue conversing around her. She often marveled at the construction of such an instrument. She also marveled at the constraints her various musical instructors had attempted to put upon her playing.
They’d used every means at their disposal to convince her to play written music that was boxed in to specific counts and keys. Such restrictions annoyed her. She believed that, once she understood the instrument and how it worked, she ought to be able to play whatever she wished. Two of her instructors had quit in frustration. After the fourth such instructor resigned, her parents deferred to her inclinations at last and allowed her to play as she wished.
Dismissing such memories, she slowed her music down and then sped it back up at will. Her music was a story, and she the storyteller.
After a few minutes, the hair on the back of her neck seemed to stand on end. Lord Hawthorne had moved to sit behind her. She faltered a few notes and then halted her playing altogether. Her music reflected her mood and her feelings. She was not comfortable playing something while thinking about Garrett Castleton. And she could not help but think about him with him watching over her shoulder.
The notes would be too loud, too bold. She looked down at her hands, at a loss. Nobody else paid much heed to her playing, so she did not feel compelled to continue. Sliding to the side of the bench, she stood and tamped down the impulse to stretch like a cat. Sometimes her muscles tied up in knots if she played for too long. Lord Hawthorne stood as well.
“Would you care to stroll outside?” he asked. “We shall stay close enough to the house so that you don’t need to worry about—being chaperoned and all that nonsense.” Eyes that were nearly black twinkled down at her. His playfulness was something new. Shelikedit.
Natalie agreed with a nod. Slipping her hand upon his arm, she allowed him to lead her outside through the terrace doors. Going in the opposite direction from her father’s cigar-smoking cronies, they stepped from the marbled patio onto the grass and walked toward a distant folly.
Garrett had attended several recitals, but he’d never heard a young lady play like Lady Natalie. At times her music sounded quiet, reflective, and relaxing, and then it would change, becoming angry, even chaotic. Then, again, she would drift into something whimsical or exotic. It had taken several minutes before he realized she was not playing any arrangement ever written. The music came from within her. She created in the moment.
Like the lady herself, the music intrigued but also baffled.
“A chaperone is not only for my protection, you know, my lord.” Together they strolled away from the lights pouringthrough the drawing room windows and French doors. “My brothers, when paying attention to any particular young lady of gentle birth, are adamant about keeping chaperones within a safe distance.” She laughed a little before continuing. “When Darly—Darlington, my eldest brother—was one and twenty, he very nearly found himself betrothed to the vicar’s daughter. If not for my mother and Aunt Eleanor’s watchful eyes, he’d have a full nursery by now. The girl’s mother had purposely left them alone in the rectory. Luckily, Mother and Aunt felt a strong urge for spiritual guidance that morning.”
“What happened?” Garrett asked, intrigued despite himself. Stories like this normally bored him, but he enjoyed listening to her talk. Her perspective charmed him.
Natalie laughed again. “Well, they never went into any details where my poor innocent ears could hear, but…”
“Yes?” Garrett glanced sideways and grinned at her.
