The only lady she’d ever attempted to match was Harriett, and she’d made a grand mess of it. What if she stuck her nose into this business with Harriett and Lord Gilbert, and the same thing happened again? She loved Harriett as if she were one of her own sisters. How could she bear to be the cause of ruining her happiness forever?
She already knew the answer.
Shecouldn’t. If Harriett were to be hurt again because of some action she’d taken, she’d never forgive herself.
Lord Fairmont might be stern and arrogant, but hewasHarriett’s brother and her guardian. It was only right that he should manage his sister’s affairs. No doubt he’d make a tangled mess of the thing before it was resolved to everyone’s satisfaction, but Lady Fosberry would make certain Harriett wouldn’t be made miserable by his choice.
Well, that was the thing settled, then.
She’d reached the end of this matchmaking business, for good this time. The only thing left to do now was inform Lady Fosberry of her decision.
She’d feel so much better once she had it over with. Yes, indeed, she’d just march downstairs right now, find Lady Fosberry, and tell her… tell her…
That she was abandoning Harriett to her fate.
God above, what a coward she was! This was a poor return, indeed, for all her ladyship had done for her family, but surely, Lady Fosberry would understand. She knew better than anyone how high-handed her nephew was, how overbearing, and dictatorial.
It was madness to imagine he’d listen toher, in any case.
She made her way downstairs, her heart a throbbing lump in her throat, but the house was quiet. Aside from Watkins, the entryway was deserted. “Is Lady Fosberry about, Watkins?”
“No, Miss Templeton. Her ladyship went out to pay a call on Lady Henry.”
“Oh, I see.” She deflated as if someone had stuck a pin into her. “Thank you, Watkins.”
She gave the butler a brisk nod, then turned to go back upstairs.
But the thought of her silent bedchamber waiting for her made her turn down the hallway that led to the library, instead. It was her favorite room in the house, but with one thing and another, she hadn’t yet had a chance to visit it. A novel would take her mind off her worries.
E.T.A. Hoffman’sThe Devil’s Elixirswas meant to be scandalously naughty. Lady Fosberry was certain to have a copy of it.
She paused in the open doorway, inhaling the soothing scent of leather and paper, but just as she was crossing the room to the tall bookshelves that housed the novels, the strike of a piano key caught her attention.
Someone was home, after all. Harriett, most likely.
There was another plink of keys, then a rapid series of scales as the player warmed up her fingers, and a moment later the strains of the opening aria fromThe Barber of Sevillefloated from the music room.
Yes, that was Harriett. She played like a dream.
Phee crossed the hallway, but just as she put her hand on the knob to enter the music room, a very fine voice launched into the “Largo al Factorum,” the baritone swelling into the music room and spilling out into the hallway.
Now that was certainlynotHarriett.
Goodness. Whoever he was, he had a remarkably fine voice.
The door had been left open a crack, and she peeked into the narrow gap in hopes of seeing the singer, but not wishing to interrupt.
Harriett was seated at the piano bench, and standing at her side was Viscount Gilbert, a smile on his face, and the loveliest voice imaginable emanating from his open mouth. It rolled through the room like a gentle wave, filling every corner with music.
She stared at him, amazed. None of the clumsy awkwardness from this afternoon was in evidencenow, none of the stuttering or flustered bumbling. He was relaxed and confident, managing the brisk pace and complicated rhyme scheme of the piece with perfect, flawless confidence.
It was glorious. Not just his voice, which was one of the finest she’d ever heard, but also the unfettered joy on his face as he sang, his gaze fixed on Harriett.
Fixed on her, as if… she leaned in, pressing her face into the narrow gap.
As if the only thing in the world that gave him more pleasure than the music was Harriett’s face.
Harriett is in love with him, Euphemia, and he with her…
