Luckily, she remembered how to read the notes, at least some of them, but she was painstakingly slow to work out each one and its corresponding key. She ignored the black ones entirely. Not at all sure the tune was recognizable, even to herself, she soldiered on with long hesitations between notes, keeping her left pointer finger on the music so she wouldn’t lose her place while letting her right hand do all the work.
After a few minutes, which probably was only three but felt like thirty, Brilliance stopped. She might have still been in the middle of the last page, but she could not continue punishing the other guests. She had done her best, but it was painfully obvious she was no better at playing the piano than she was at painting or at fishing. She hadn’t caught a single thing in the two hours she’d stood by the stream. And now, she’d butchered a popular piece of music beyond recognition.
Still, everyone clapped as they had for each of the other guests while hastening to their feet and hurrying from the room.
Brilliance stayed back. She would have to apologize to Lady Georgiana when next she saw her, hoping the lady had gone ahead to the drawing room where they would play cards.
When the conservatory emptied, Lord Hewitt was still there.
“I cleared the room quickly, didn’t I?” Brilliance remarked. “The others feared another clownish nick-ninny was going to try to perform after me.”
He eyed her speculatively. “That was brave of you.”
“Not particularly,” Brilliance disagreed, wanting to play down the courage it took in case he didn’t have it himself. “I imagine, however, it would have been far easier for me and much more enjoyable for the listeners had Iyourtalent.”
“Indubitably,” he agreed. “You are probably the worst piano player I have ever had the misfortune to hear.”
“And you are among the best,” she said. He showed no emotion. “Youseemlike a reasonable man,” she added.
“I am.”
“But you’re not,” she pointed out. “You have this immense talent and refuse to share it.”
“You ought to put it out of your head.” He crossed his arms. “I choose with whom I shall share my music.”
“A music miser!” she declared.
Instead of annoying him, he grinned. Then he laughed before retorting, “I suppose that can be etched upon my headstone.”
She pursed her lips. “I am sure in the end you would like something more complimentary, such as ‘A gifted composer.’”
He sighed. “You are like a dog with a bone. Besidesin the end, as you say, I won’t give a fig about what is written.”
“Do you enjoy charades or pantomimes?” she asked.
“Of course. I am not a savage.”
That surprised her. After all, those party games were as like a performance as not, and often with much more sport being made of the performer.
“Indeed, I am quite good at them,” Lord Hewitt continued. “Shall we be partners tonight?”
The man was a conundrum. Feeling a little miffed that she had embarrassed herself for nothing, Brilliance shrugged and strolled past him.
“Cards, tonight, my lord,” she reminded him. “Charades are tomorrow evening.”
Card games were greatfun. Brilliance adored playing them. By midnight, when they were all bidding each other good night and leaving the drawing room by ones and twos, her only regret was that Lady Georgiana was still standoffish. Although the young lady said a polite “good evening” to Martine who stood nearby, her gaze passed over Brilliance as if she were invisible.
When she tried to apologize, Lady Georgiana snubbed her and walked out of the room. In the morning, Brilliance would try to make amends.
“A good first day,” Martine remarked as they climbed the stairs.
“It was, wasn’t it?” Brilliance agreed. “And so many activities to come.” They made their way to their wing, with half a dozen guest rooms for the single ladies.
“You seem taken with Lord Hewitt,” Martine remarked since they were alone.
“He is a dash-fire gentleman, don’t you think?”
Martine shrugged delicately and said, “I prefer the fair looks of Lord Patterson, but I think he has eyes for you.”
