Page 14 of An Enchantress for an Earl

“Shh. That can wait for later.”

Thorne’s tone, from the other side of Iris, was amused. He understood Iris very well, and knew that anything musical would always intrigue her. There was silence for a moment, and then Lord Greenleigh set his fingers to the keys of the pianoforte.

Violet knew, from the first few rising notes, that the man before her was more skilled than anyone else she had ever heard play – perhaps excepting Iris. If she had held any doubt, the sigh which escaped Iris would have removed it instantly.

If the playing was perfect, however, the singing which accompanied it was not. Lady Anna had a passable voice, and had chosen a quite difficult piece, from a recently popular Italian opera – but she had chosen to sing it in the English translation. And that choice could be said to have completely destroyed the piece, for the language did not have the lilt and flow that the Italian did, did not entwine itself with the music to provide an extra layer of harmony.

Violet settled herself to endure, and tried her hardest to listen only to the notes of the pianoforte. Beside her, Iris ground her teeth, which forced Violet to stifle a laugh. Lord Merryfield noticed, and raised an eyebrow at her, which she most intentionally ignored.

When the piece was finally finished, and the performers were replaced by a harpist, who was competent but nothing more, it was a relief. That piece was blessedly short, and then Lady Ormondston declared an intermission, suggesting that everyone should move to the ballroom, where refreshment tables had been set out.

Violet made no attempt to move immediately – let everyone crowd out through the doors first, she had no need to hurry.

“What did you think of that first piece, Lady Violet?”

Lord Merryfield’s voice made her turn to him. He was, damn the man, so strikingly handsome that he took her breath away, no matter how often she might have seen him. His expression held amusement, and she wondered if he expected her to praise the whole thing, to deliver socially expected platitudes with no thought behind them. If he expected that, then she would surprise him.

“I cannot fault Lord Greenleigh’s playing, but as for the singing… It is a difficult piece, admittedly, but I do much prefer it in the original Italian. The Italian language has a fluidity, a lilting pattern which in opera is usually structured so as to enhance and intertwine with the music. I cannot say that the English translation is capable of the same effect.”

Even as she said it, she realised that she had broken one of her own rules – she had, by implication, revealed that she could speak Italian, that she thought about things beyond fashion, and complimenting those who society said one should. Would he realise?

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Arryn blinked at Lady Violet, momentarily lost for words. She preferred it in the original Italian? Surely that implied… It was almost as if she could speak and understand Italian…. But no, he must be misinterpreting her words. No young lady of the ton that he had ever spoken to could actually fluently speak a second language. Disconcerted, he made an agreeing noise, and was saved when they rose, the crowds having thinned enough for them to be able to leave the room.