Page 13 of A Ghost of a Chance

A curve touched her lips as she glanced at the manor again and nodded. Without taking his hand, she moved toward the exit. Giddy as children, they ran across the lawn, laughing, toward the house. After pausing to look around outside, she led him to a side entrance and moved confidently through the rooms which opened one into another. Notes from a string quartet, the rumble of dozens of conversations, and occasional laughter created a backdrop for their adventure. Avoiding the raucous drawing room where the ball took place, she led him to the music room.

“Close the window and draw the draperies,” she instructed as she moved silently to a far door.

While he did as she bade, she turned the key to lock the door. Voices from the other side of the door neared. He held his breath, both exhilarated and appalled at himself for daring to enter someone’s house uninvited. The voices passed by, leaving Rafe and his fellow trespasser undetected.

Osanne stood in front of the pianoforte as if she couldn’t quite believe she dared to enter this room. Or perhaps she admired the exquisite instrument. It certainly had no equal with its rich, dark wood and intricate carvings on its legs and the music stand. Reverently, she ran her hands over the lid. Without raising the lid over the harp of the instrument nor propping it up—probably so as to keep the volume to a minimum—she sat and placed her long slender fingers on the keys.

She waited a heartbeat before pressing a few keys to create a lovely chord. Hesitant at first, she played softly. Rafe held his breath.

After only a few bars, her confidence clearly grew and she played with the feeling and expertise of a virtuoso. Rafe had attended enough concerts and musicales, not to mention his own lessons as a child, to know talent when he heard it. He sat nearby, spellbound. The music, though unfamiliar, vibrated through him in sweet melancholy.

The last note rang out before silence fell.

“That was magnificent,” he whispered lest he break the spell.

She turned and gave him such a joyously beautiful smile that it took his breath away. “I wasn’t sure I could still do it.”

Before he responded, voices returned. “...heard the pianoforte again.” Footsteps also approached.

“I’ll see to it, ma’am,” came another voice.

Alarm shot through him. They were about to be caught. This could go badly for Osanne, not only for sneaking into the village Great House, but being alone with a man. Perhaps he would be forced to marry her to save her reputation. The thought no longer terrified him as much as it should have. He leaped to his feet, sifting through possible courses of action.

This insane idea had been all his. He must protect Osanne at all costs.

Where had she gone?

The door opened a crack and a matronly woman dressed as a housekeeper and carrying an array of keys on a ring peeked in. “Oh!” she came in all the way and gave him a brief once-over.

He turned on his most charming smile and said in his best drawing room voice, “Good evening, madam. I apologize if the music disturbed you.” He made a loose wave at the pianoforte.

He glanced about but saw no trace of Osanne.

“Oh, no, sir,” the woman said in a working-class accent. “I...eh... someone thought the...I mean... that one of the children had crept out of bed again.” She gave him an embarrassingly admiring stare as she stepped closer.

Then she lifted her brows, looking him over from head to toe. No doubt she noticed the plainness of his clothing. No self-respecting gentleman would show up to a ball, even a masquerade, without an appropriate evening suit and dancing shoes. At least his buckskin breeches and bottle green coat were clean, but there could be no excuse for his dusty boots and coat. And he hadn’t shaved in a few days.

He made a point of looking down. “Do forgive my attire. I did not expect an invitation to a ball when I arrived here to visit. Had I known, I would surely have brought my superfine. I really must speak to my valet about packing one even if I don’t expect to need it.”

“You...you are a guest, then?”

He glanced over the woman’s head just as Osanne peeked out from behind the open door. The young lady grinned at him conspiratorially.

Rafe let out a half laugh. “Would I be here if I weren’t?”

The servant looked abashed. “Of course not, sir. Forgive me.” She took a step back. “I’ll just, er, leave you, then.” She gave him another admiring look.

“Thank you, madam.”

Without taking her eyes off him, the woman backed up a few paces, side-stepped, and bumped into a table, upsetting a vase. With a wild grab at the vase, she righted it and let out a girlish giggle. Finally, she turned and fled the room. A second later, she darted back in. Still giggling, she shot him an apologetic look, grabbed the doorknob, and closed the door behind her.

Osanne’s musical laughter brushed across his skin and brought an answering smile. “Oh, my, you certainly managed her.”

He shrugged and made a point of examining his fingernails. In a bored tone, he said, “All part of my charm.”

“Your charm is exceeded only by your humility,” she said merrily.

He bowed. “At your service.” Straightening, he gestured at the pianoforte. “Shall you play more?”