Page 32 of A Symphony for the Earl

She had looked forward to practicing on the piano during that time, but supposed callers were necessary if she and Valentina wanted any success with suitors.

“I think not, Mama,” Valentina said, much to Fiona’s relief. “After a busy morning, we will want to rest, I’m sure, before dressing for Almack’s. Besides, after tonight, I expect there will be no shortage of visitors.”

There was still time to spare before Richard arrived, and Fiona escaped to the music room. She carefully removed her hat and set it aside, then rifled through the box of music on the credenza. She pulled out Mozart’s Sonata No. 11 in A major. It was a virtuoso piece, full of difficult technique and changing tempo, which she was determined to perfect.

When the earl arrived, Fiona was so absorbed in the music she didn’t hear anything until he entered the room and took a comfortable chair next to the piano.

“Pray continue…I am early,” he said.

She launched into the second movement, a menuetto, glancing over with a smile. “I don’t have nerves, you know…I’ve played under the scrutiny of some very harsh critics.”

He leaned back, closing his eyes. “I enjoy your playing without making judgments, Fiona. Is it Haydn or Mozart?”

“Mozart.” Her face warmed at his use of her given name.

“Ah. One day, I will ask you to play your favorite piece for me. I believe this sonata is a puzzle you wish to solve. The first Beethoven was to impress us, the Schubert yesterday to entertain. I wonder what music is closest to your heart?”

She transitioned smoothly to the third movement. “One day, perhaps, I will show you.”

While he listened, she finished the piece without mistakes. It was strange to think of Richard bent over the piano as a youth. What had he been like in those days? Still tall but never awkward and just as handsome, she guessed.

The last notes reverberated in the air, and she closed the fallboard. “It must be time for our ride.”

As he rose to his feet, she couldn’t help but admire the superb cut of his midnight-blue coat and buckskin breeches. He wore top boots and carried an ivory-handled whip in his gloved hand. Richard met her perusal steadily, his blue-gray eyes lit with amusement under an artfully disordered crop of mahogany hair. It was disconcerting that he often regarded her in that way.

Fiona stood, shaking out her skirts, and reached for the hat perched on top of the piano.

“Allow me.” Lord Richard took it from her hand and replaced the hat on top of her dark curls, tilting it slightly to the right. Her heart beat faster at his proximity, and she didn’t like the sensation at all.

He stepped back and gave a satisfied nod. “Excellent. My compliments to your tailor.”

“I am not too outdated?” She couldn’t resist the barb.

“Not at all.” He smiled and offered his arm.

In front of the stables, a short wiry man she remembered from her arrival at Merrick House waited with two gleaming horses.

“This is Jerome, Miss Rafferty, my tiger and my stable manager. He is the consummate horseman.”

“Please ta meet you, miss.” He doffed his cap.

Lord Richard took the tall gray gelding, and Jerome led the other, a dainty dark bay mare, to the stone mounting block. He helped her onto the sidesaddle, and she found her seat, hooking a knee over the pommel as the tiger adjusted her stirrup.

“Her name’s Della, miss,” he said.

“What can you tell me of her?” she asked, patting the sleek neck.

“She’s a goer, miss, a fine lady’s horse, if’n I ever seen one.”

“Della’s gaits are smooth, and her disposition even.” Richard mounted with no aid, settling lightly in the saddle. “I think you will find her mouth soft enough, and she prefers a light touch.”

She followed him as he turned his gelding toward the street. It was a little early to show oneself in the park, but there were still plenty of riders and groups of people strolling along the wide gravel paths. Carriages were less frequent, except for a few phaetons, mostly handled by brash young Corinthians.

As the earl picked up a trot, she noted he had a fine seat, which annoyed her immensely. Was there no accomplishment he lacked? Perhaps a life of leisure and great wealth allowed one to become adept at many things.

Their horses soon stepped into an easy canter. Della had a wonderful temperament, and Fiona rode confidently but it was not her favorite pastime.

As they turned down Serpentine Road, Sir William Denton approached at a canter from the west and slowed his chestnut, hailing them. “Lord Seldon, Miss Rafferty, what luck indeed. May I walk with you?” Sir William appeared to advantage on horseback and cut quite a dashing figure.