Taken around the room like a show pony!
Of course, he knew it was his duty as a fellow guest, but he could have learned their names as was necessary.
“What does it mean?” Lady Brilliance inquired.
“Mean?” he asked, taking in the rich cobalt shine in her eyes.
“In English, my lord. Sonata — something about the sunshine, perhaps, the way some music makes you think of a sunny day in June.”
Was she teasing him?Her innocent expression indicated she was not.
“The word refers to something that is sounded rather than sung, which is acantata.”
“Cantata,” she said, then smiled. “Another lovely word. It makes me think of someone running quickly across a field. Maybe I should take up Italian. I have only ever tried to speak French.”
Then she laughed, although he could not imagine why.
“That’s funny, is it not, my lord? For obviously, I am speaking English and not French. In fact, I found French to be extremely difficult. All those tedious verb conjugations and every word having different endings. It made my brain hurt. Is Italian much the same?”
He nodded. She was a bizarre creature indeed. She didn’t seem to be a chuckle-headed cake exactly, yet nor would he say she was particularly quick-witted. Perhaps somewhere in the middle, a bit of a jingle-brains.
“I believe all the so-called romance languages are similarly arranged,” he explained.
“Romance languages,” she echoed. “I wonder how English is described by other people. It seems a very romantic language, too, wouldn’t you say? We have fine words for love and tenderness and being sweet on one another.” She sipped her wine and beamed happily.
Amazingly, Vincent could tell she was not acting coy nor flirting by bringing up those words. She was genuinely trying to make sense of the world.How refreshing!
“That’s not the type of romance intended,” he explained. “The term means languages based upon those in the Romanworld, those derived from Latin. I believe you’ll find our own is considered a Germanic language.”
She frowned. “That cannot be correct.”
To his discomfort, she turned to the gentleman on her left. “Did you know that English is considered to be Germanic?” Not waiting for an answer, she turned again to Vincent. “Are you sure? Why isn’t it called anEngliclanguage, and is German under the same umbrella?”
She shrugged as if it were entirely beyond her.
“I am no linguist,” he said. He couldn’t fathom how they had strayed so far from discussing the sonata.What had she asked him?
Then he recalled her question.
“In truth, my lady, I can only tell you that I have no problem maintaining a singular focus on music. Quite the contrary. I find it difficult to tear my thoughts from it.”
“You are talented, and thus, you can keep your mind upon it.” She cocked her head. “Or is it because you keep your mind on music that you are so talented? Or did I just say the same thing twice?”
“No, I don’t believe you did,” he said politely.
“In any case, I have not yet found anything that holds my attention long enough to be good at, nor been good at anything long enough to hold my attention.”
His head was beginning to pound like the notes at the low end of his beloved piano. And they weren’t even at the fish course.
“I have never heard of you as a professional musician,” she said abruptly. “But you wrote the piece yourself, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” he agreed, feeling the old, familiar annoyance wash over him. He hated the path of their conversation, knowing where it would lead.
“Your music should fill concert halls, my lord.”
It already does, he nearly snapped. But that would rip open an old wound and lead to much explanation.
“I have other interests and duties making claims upon my time. I am in Parliament.”
