“I love it. All of it. The lighting, the wallpaper, the carpets ... even the musty smell.”
Peter breathed a laugh. He set his hand on his leg, near to mine in my lap. “All part of the experience, is it not?”
I looked away, forcing myself to remember my place and my goals. We could be friends, but that was all. Any affection Peter thought he held for me was fleeting. I willed the music to begin.
“Georgiana knows about the gloves,” Peter said softly beside me. “I told her this morning.”
My gaze sharpened. “Why? What did she say?”
“I am tired of secrets. I hate them, actually. Georgiana thought the story funny but has not said a word about it since. I should have told her that first day at Demsworth’s. I should have told everyone.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It is better this way.”
“Why?” Peter looked at me fiercely. “What is the benefit of keeping a secret from someone you care about?”
I had a feeling his question was more pointed than innocent. “For fear of losing that person’s good opinion. Or being seen differently in their eyes.”
“That is exactly the thing I appreciate most about love, Miss Moore. Its opinion is not easily swayed by status or money or flaws. Unless it is betrayed, it is most forgiving. And it holds steadfast in any weather.”
I closed my eyes, letting out a breath. I felt like a feather tossed in the wind—dizzy and floating and high. Did Peter mean his words? That money, or a lack thereof, could not sway love? My secret was not as small as a pair of gloves. My secret would be shocking to discover. No matter how Peter tried to convince me, I knew the truth. At best, love was a double-edged sword.
Music filled the air like a tidal wave rushing upon us. A perfect harmony of notes, loud but soothing, reverberated off the walls. The musicians played one song after another, some fast and merry, others somber and slow.
Peter tilted his head, closing his eyes in appreciation.
Regardless of what the future held, I was glad to share this moment with him. This memory. Where music changed us.
I leaned closer to his ear. “Can you feel it?”
Immediately his eyes snapped to mine. “What do you mean?”
“The music. It’s as though the notes are tickling my skin.”
Peter shifted toward me, his leg brushing mine. “I can feel it,” he whispered in my ear, sending a shiver through me. “And I never want it to end.”
A standing ovation for the superb performances of the night lifted us from our seats when the final song ended.
Peter spoke to me over the applause. “There is someone here I want you to meet. An old friend of mine from Eton.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but the excitement on his face stopped me. Georgiana stifled a yawn, looking as tired as I felt.
But as we made our way through the crowd, it was my name that was called. And from a voice I’d tried to forget.
“Amelia? Amelia Moore!”
“Who is that?” Georgiana stopped with a hand on her hip.
“Itisyou,” Evelyn said haughtily, breaking through the crowd. Her resemblance to Lord Gray was astounding, and I felt like I was in London again, pushed aside like a wilting flower. “Why are you not at home with Robert?” Her squeaky voice was full of disdain, and I blushed to be spoken to as though my name was dirt in her mouth.
I tore my arm from Peter’s before her narrowed eyes could take note of the connection. “Clara and I were invited as guests to Lakeshire Park for a fortnight. We will be returning to Brighton shortly.” Though she had to know the lie. Why else would she be here, so far away from her home in Bath, yet so close to Brighton?
I scanned the room for my cousin. If Trenton was here, it meant he’d wasted no time making his way to claim Gray House.
“To think of all my brother has done for you. Even after your mother died. And here you are.” Evelyn frowned in distaste, shaking her head. “No matter. Trenton has been summoned. Your time amongst thetonis over.”
Peter stepped forward, his chest rising. “You will mind your tongue, ma’am.”
“And who are you?” A slow, hateful smile curved Evelyn’s lips.
