Mark turned to me. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I stepped closer and examined the page, even humming what I saw written. “Try. This is lovely.”
“You read sheet music? Of course you would, Torrance only knows exceptional women.” He turned back to the pages and put his hands to his head like he wanted to smash his skull. “This will be my entry to the Harlbert’s Prize if I can finish. It’s a once-a-year competition. If I win, it will be the beginning of my career.”
“A career for a gentleman?”
“Yes, some of us aren’t wealthy or wanting a wife that’s an heiress. I wish to be a recognized, celebrated composer.”
“That sounds vain. A new piece that will dazzle the committee will make you renowned? How odd, to need a prize to say you’re good when you already are.”
He packed up his papers, then went back to the pianoforte. “I freely admit not understanding women, but I think you need to understand men a bit more. Just because I say a thing, doesn’t make it so. Prahmn will never just take my word.”
“No, I quite understand. You need a group of men to tell your father.”
Lord Mark closed the instrument just as Katherine stepped inside. “Are you ready? We really need to get back to . . . Lydia. Am I interrupting something?”
“Lady Hampton.” My music teacher bowed, took his papers and went to the door. “No. I’ve just asked Miss Wilcox to study a little more before our next session.”
“You do the same. We meet here tomorrow?”
“No. Wednesday. I have an appointment tomorrow.”
“Where will my fiancé be off to?”
His gaze marked me with heat, like it was impertinent to ask. But this was me crossing that line of make-believe and caring. I did care. I wanted Mark to achieve his goals.
“Bird-watching in Hyde Park. I’m hunting for the rarest of flying creatures. The habit relaxes me. My current selection of a muse is temporal and testy.”
He left and Katherine gave me a look that was a cross betweenWell doneandWhat have you done?
I took her by the arm, looking forward to our drive back to Ground Street. Perhaps she’d educate me a little more on men and their need to be accepted by everyone except those who care about their dreams.
Chapter 17
GEORGINA—PRETTYGOSSIPGIRL
Wednesday’s lesson started in classic Wilcox fashion: chaos. We, the daughters of the coal king, lay claim to Anya House. The running and jumping of the moat—the steps began immediately.
With Lydia feeling better and Scarlett not disappearing for one of her missives—escaping to the Royal Society or reading a stolen science paper—the full Wilcox clan came to visit.
I watched from the music room as Scarlett interrogated the duke about some sort of advancement in heart research, and Lydia literally danced about the man, telling the duke of the latest story I read to her. I’d picked up a used copy ofPride and Prejudice, published by T. Egerton.
The author’s name was unknown, but at least the attribution was more than the words “By a Lady.” This time it read “By the Author ofSense and Sensibility.”
One glance at my music teacher thumbing through his sheet music made me feel a little more sympathetic to his creative plight.Pride and Prejudicewas on its second printing but the author couldn’t put his or her name to the work. Celebrated, thousands of copies in print, and the credit was given to an anonymous person.
For Lord Mark Sebastian, the thing he labored upon, put all his hopes in, this sonata would be his first published work. He was brave enough to want his name on it. Yet, so driven to make it perfect, he might never finish.
“Stop running, Lydia.” Katherine’s voice echoed down the hall. Dressed in more gray, varying between shades of dingy silver and dull pewter, she moped behind the duke. She seemed forlorn and even forgotten.
The younger Wilcoxes delighted in the duke and all the opulence his Anya House offered. It made me understand Katherine’s feelings and even my teacher’s of not being enough.
“Georgina, please come away from the threshold. We need to begin. Are you ready?”
“I am.” I crossed the big room and stood at the pianoforte. “I told Mr. Thom about you.”
His brow wrinkled. “Excuse me?”
