Silas sighed, glancing around again.
“This room is far too small for my liking, I feel like I am in danger of an avalanche of ribbons at any moment. Perhaps we can adjourn to another, more comfortable area. You know I can’t let you out of my sight at present, there is far too much we don’t know at this moment.”
Honora wrinkled her nose but nodded. “I can’t focus on anything anyway,” she said, rubbing a hand over her eyes in a most unladylike manner.
Silas tilted his head, considering. “I remember how much you like music. Perhaps I could play for you? The music room is very comfortable, and spacious. Plenty of room for both of us and you could rest your eyes while you listen.”
They made their way downstairs, Honora trailing awkwardly behind the earl.
Why was he being so inexplicablynice?
He had said more to her in the last ten minutes than he had in the last three years.
Honora hated to admit it, but it had hurt when she had finally made her debut and Silas had treated her as if they hardly knew each other. Not even asking her to dance at her coming out ball.
Never mind the fact that he had spent many a summer down from Eton at their country estate and could almost be considered family.
Perhaps she had trailed after the two older boys like a worshipful puppy, but her brother had never discouraged her presence.
Nor had Silas been disdainful of her company back then, even though it must have been painfully obvious to the older boys that she had nurtured a girlishtendrefor him all those years.
Honora chased away the mawkish thoughts with irritation.That was then, this was now.
Silas was a powerful earl with a somewhat dubious reputation, and she was nothing but a silly woman who found herself in a whole heap of trouble.
He must be beyond irritated in having to babysit her, no matter how well he was hiding it.
He is just being polite.
Silas strode into the music room, flinging open the doors to reveal the ornately decorated space. Gilded mouldings and airy murals lined the walls, and the bright summer sun streamed in through the floor-length windows that lined the terrace.
Honora squinted against the glare, steadying herself on the back of the settee.
With an indistinct curse, Silas pulled closed the drapes, closing off the light until the room was blissfully dim.
“Thank you, Silas,” murmured Honora, sinking into the settee gratefully. She felt quite worn out all of a sudden, her brow clammy with perspiration.
Silas sat down briskly at the Broadwood piano, pushing his hair back from his forehead and running his fingers lightly over the keys. “What shall I play?”
Honora waved a hand weakly. “Whatever you like. Surprise me,” she whispered, leaning back and closing her eyes.
There was a long moment of silence, and then the first notes lifted into the air. The piece was soft and moody, with light trills running up and down the scale balanced by long, low drawn-out chords that made her heart ache with a pang of melancholy.
As the crescendo approached, Honora cracked open her eyes, her gaze instantly drawn to the shape of Silas as he moved over the keys in time to the music.
She had almost forgotten how well he played, but watching him now, she recalled that sense of awe that could only be felt in the presence of a true musician.
His eyes were closed, his fingers moving with perfect precision over the keys, long dexterous fingers drawing the music forth as if it resided in his very soul.
How could a man be so beautiful and so maddening at the same time?
Her mind railed against the injustice of this normally cold, distant earl seeming to have the gift to break her heart open in this way.
Another thought rose up unbidden, the image of those sensuous hands running over her skin, playing her body in the same way.
Oh, she would sing for him, she knew it as surely as the sun rose each morning.
Her childish infatuation had long ago been replaced by base feminine desire.
