I thought I did.
This formal dinner is my personal nightmare. I have to remind myself to breathe, desperately trying not to think about the casual, happy meals I shared with the guys back in Seattle. This stiff, oppressive atmosphere couldn’t be more different, with its starched napkins and assorted forks that I can remember the proper order for with my eyes closed.
I pick at my food, barely eating, pushing the carefully arranged morsels around my plate. Mother notices, of course, her hawk-like gaze missing nothing. “Amelia Charlotte, you’ve left the meat untouched again,” she chides, her tone suggesting I’ve committed some grave social faux pas.
“Are you a vegetarian?” Daniel asks, surprisingly gentle. I nod, wondering why he’s suddenly taking an interest. We’ve barely exchanged more than a few words before tonight.
Dinner concludes, and the air is heavy with conversation and the clink of dessert spoons, when Father orders the butler to bring cigars and scotch to the parlor. The guests rise from theirseats, chairs scraping against the polished wooden floor, as they begin to make their way over.
The parlor is an opulent room lined with dark wood paneling and filled with plush leather chairs. My Steinway still sits in the corner where it’s been since Father moved it out of his office a few years ago. Its glossy surface reflects the soft glow of the chandelier overhead.
When I enter the room, he catches my eye. His firm voice leaves no room for argument and cuts through the murmur of voices. “My daughter is going to play the piano for us.”
I feel the eyes of the guests turning toward me, expectant and curious. My palms grow clammy, and I quickly wipe them on the skirt of my dress.
Taking a deep breath, I make my way to the piano, my fingers trembling as I lift the lid. The room quiets down, conversations fading into whispers.
Settling onto the piano bench, I take another deep breath, my fingers hovering over the keys. I glance around the room one last time, my eyes briefly meeting August’s before I look away. Then, with a final steadying breath, I close my eyes and begin to play. The familiar notes flow through my fingers and momentarily ease the tension within me.
God, how I missed you,old friend.
Even though I know I’ll have to stick to the classics, playing is a welcome escape from the suffocating atmosphere of the dining room. The notes pour out, filling the room with Chopin and Beethoven. At some point, I feel someone sit beside me on the long bench, but I keep my eyes closed, focused on the keys beneath my fingers, afraid to break the spell.
Finally, after what must be at least half an hour, I finish playing, the last notes hanging in the air like a whisper. My hands fall into my lap, suddenly feeling empty and restless.
I turn to see who’s joined me, expecting to find August. To my surprise, it’s not my brother as I’d assumed, but Daniel, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat.
“You’re amazing,” he praises, but it makes me feel uncomfortable.
“Thank you.”
“Would you like to get some fresh air with me on the balcony?” He nods toward the one that’s attached to the parlor.
What’s going on?
“I’d probably better go up to my room,” I reply, trying to muster another polite smile. “The jet lag is really hitting me.”
Before Daniel can respond, Mother strides over, her steps quick and purposeful. “Amelia Charlotte, don’t be so impolite,” she admonishes, her voice firm. “Accompany the young Mr. Bancroft. It’s the least you can do.”
Sighing inwardly, I nod and stand, trying not to let my building frustration show as I follow Daniel. The large glass doors open onto a grand, spacious balcony adorned with elegant wrought-iron railings and a stunning view of the estate gardens. The cool night air is refreshing against my skin, and I take a deep breath, trying to shake off my fatigue.
Daniel closes the glass doors again, shuts out the chatter from the room, and comes to stand beside me, his posture relaxed. “You really are talented, you know,” he says, glancing at me. “You playing the piano always was my favorite part of the galas.”
“You’re my favorite,”a way sweeter voice whispers in my mind.
Can this evening end already?
“Thank you,” I murmur, offering a small, tight-lipped smile.
There’s a moment of silence, and I can sense Daniel gathering his thoughts. He reaches out, his hand brushing against mine. “I mean it, Amelia. You’re incredible.”
I pull my hand back, taking a small step to the side, needing some space. But Daniel follows, his presence pressing close. “You know,” he says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to get some alone time with you.”
What does he even want?
Daniel had never flirted with me like this before.
Hell, this is the first time we talk more than a polite hello.
