“Now neither of us will be in London,” she mused.
“Yet nor will we be here together,” he pointed out. “I am one of those pesky male guests who shall be tossed out tomorrow.”
Drat!“Surely your own cousin wouldn’t mind if you stayed on.”
“I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing,” he said. “That would be an imposition. The party will have concluded, and I shall be ready to go home.”
He didn’t sound in the least bit bothered at leaving her behind.
“And besides those relations Lady Twitchard mentioned, have you anyone else to worry over in Town?” she asked. For her part, she would feel a little anxious until she knew her parents, sisters, and brother, along with their spouses and children had all vacated Mayfair.
“Neither of my siblings live in London. My mother and stepfather will undoubtedly go to their favorite spot, a small manor due east of here, in Kent. Although my mother adores the seaside, so perhaps they will go all the way to the coast.”
“I love watching the ocean,” Brilliance told him, but she was distracted by the inevitable occurrence of being in the Twitchards’ massive manor without the possibility of running into Lord Hewitt around every corner or in the dining room, drawing room, or one of the smaller salons. It would be empty, indeed.
“By the way, seeing as you will remain in Bexley a while longer,” he interrupted her thoughts, “I would be most honored to have you come visit my home.”
Had she heard him correctly?
“That would make me exceedingly happy,” she told him. “When shall I come?”
He chuckled. “Let us first finish my cousin’s ball without wishing the night away.”
Suddenly, the future seemed brighter again, and the pallor of parting and of the frightening sickness somewhat dissipated.
“You are correct, of course.”
Grabbing for his empty glass, Brilliance set it along with her own on the stone wall beside them. And then, she took hold of his hand.
“Come along, my lord. I am ready to dance.”
While sad to say goodbyeto Martine who had been summoned to her family’s estate in Surrey, Brilliance was equally excited at the prospect of going to Lord Hewitt’s country home. And knowing she would do so softened the pang she felt at seeing him depart the following day.
One by one, her fellow guests left until it was only Brilliance, Miss Newton, and — unfortunately — Lady Georgiana. She wished they had never had a cross word. On the other hand, she hadn’t been “treated” to another session of the girl’s singing, so perhaps falling out with her had been worth it.
Now that Lord Hewitt had left, Brilliance found herself haunting the conservatory. She even brought out the repaired sheet music and spent a frustrating few hours picking out thetune. While doing her best, the piece still scarcely sounded like Mr. Castern’s famed work.
Lady Twitchard entered upon hearing her playing.
“How are you coping, Lady Brilliance?”
“Coping, my lady?” She rose from the stool.
“Stuck here without any planned activities. My husband and I lead a rather dull existence when we are in the country. But compared to our hectic schedule in London, being quiet here is the desired goal. Perhaps not for a young lady though.”
“I do not mind. You have an extensive library, and there are the other two ladies, although we do not share a close friendship. I believe they went riding and didn’t ask me to join.”
“You were improving your musical talent, and good for you.” Lady Twitchard eyed the torn and glued pages. “What is that piece you were playing?”
Brilliance couldn’t help laughing. “I suppose my musical talent, as you say, has not improved at all, elsewise you wouldn’t need to ask. It was Mr. Castern’s ‘The Hummingbird.’”
“Oh dear,” her ladyship said. “Is that what had my cousin all up in arms earlier in the week? Did he tear those?”
“Yes, my lady. I don’t understand why, do you? I heard him playing the music, so I thought he liked it, but he denied the tune he played was ‘The Hummingbird,’ despite it being unmistakable.”
“Lord Hewitt is a remarkable composer,” Lady Twitchard said. “And years ago, he wrote a piece that sounded much like ‘The Hummingbird.’ Or my cousin claimsexactlylike it.”
Brilliance frowned. “He wishes he had published his version first, I imagine.”
