Page 8 of Captivating the Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 5)

The guilt he carried every day at his part in his sister’s death had only been relieved by the frantic pace he’d set for himself.

Two years ago, as a dutiful brother, he had encouraged his sister, Monica, to marry Baron Sheffield. The man had shown considerable interest in her during her fourth Season. She had sworn for years that no one appealed to her, and his mother, frantic at Monica not marrying at all, had prevailed upon Hawk to secure the match.

His investigation into the baron’s background had revealed some gambling debts that her dowry cleared up, but after speaking with the man about it, the baron had assured Hawk that sort of behavior was behind him. Sheffield had also been identified as having a fondness for drink, but that was another issue he assured Hawk he’d dealt with.

At both her mother’s and brother’s urging, Monica had agreed to the marriage and had gone to her husband’s home outside of London. Until she’d returned to Hawk’s London townhouse late one night in a severe thunderstorm, crying and shaking. The baron had been drinking a great deal and gambling, and she wanted to return home.

Aghast at such a request, he and Lady Hawkins spent several hours talking to her about her duties and the role of a wife. He had encouraged her to return to her husband, spouting some nonsense about all brides having a difficult time adjusting to marriage. If only he had listened to her. After all, as a bachelor, what did he know of marriage and bridal adjustments?

Two nights later at the Pomeroy ball, a drunken, angry Sheffield forced Monica into their carriage, dismissed the driver, and on the way home, crashed the vehicle into a tree, causing the carriage to roll down an embankment, killing them both.

Bringing back her broken, mud-covered body had been the worst experience of his life, despite having fought Napoleon and seen appalling sights on the battlefield. Hawk had returned to London after Monica’s funeral and had proceeded to drink to excess, gamble a small fortune, and take numerous beautiful women to bed.

But he remained numb and was tired of it.

“Miss Moore, since you have finished your tea, may we enjoy some of your delightful playing?”

Leah turned to Hawk, who had been lost in deep thought. “Miss Moore plays like an angel. I can’t imagine where she could have received such wonderful instruction.”

He glanced at the lady in question to find her again flustered. Surely, she was not anxious about playing for them? Leah had indicated this was something the governess did on a regular basis when they had guests. Perhaps he was making her nervous.

He hated the twinge of satisfaction that idea brought.

“I will be happy to turn the pages for you, Miss Moore.” He stood to accompany her to the pianoforte.

“Oh, Hawk, Miss Moore plays everything from memory. She doesn’t use music sheets.”

“Indeed?” He viewed her with surprise. When she nodded, he added, “It appears Lady Wycliff is correct. You have had spectacular training. Where did you learn to play?”

“My father enjoyed music in the evenings, so he hired a master to teach me.” She started toward the instrument, obviously not wishing to elaborate.

If Miss Moore had been nervous, once she began to play, her entire being was lost in the music. He studied her hands as her fingers glided over the keys, like they were two parts of one soul, joining together after a long separation.

Overcome by the music, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The notes drifted over him, the passion in the woman’s playing a living thing. The number went on and on, and he slowly lost himself, feeling things deep inside he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Peace. Serenity. Hope.

When had he lost hope? Somewhere along the line, it had vanished, along with self-respect and contentment. Slowly, he opened his eyes and was treated to the sight of Miss Moore bent over the pianoforte, her own eyes closed, a Mona Lisa smile on her face as she poured her heart and soul into the melody.

The notes slowed, then stopped. The silence was deafening as Miss Moore placed her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. She slowly raised her head and looked directly at him. He sucked in a breath.

His world tilted.

No, he was not in love, but something magical at an elemental level had just happ

ened. His cold, withered heart experienced a frisson of warmth. This woman, her music, and her presence in his life at this point could prove momentous. Yes, perhaps he was being the romantic he’d always mocked, but he had never felt this way before.

Leah clapped and stood. “Excellent, Miss Moore. Just excellent. That is by far the best piece you have played for us.” She smirked in Hawk’s direction. “Maybe it is our guest who has inspired you so.”

Miss Moore flushed and rose from the pianoforte seat, glancing briefly in his direction. “If I may be excused, my lady, I feel a need to find my bed.”

“Of course, Miss Moore. Thank you again for your wonderful entertainment.”

Miss Moore offered a slight dip and hurried from the room. Hawk’s eyes followed her until she passed through the doorway. He turned back to see Wycliff regarding him with raised eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just feel the need to remind you that Miss Moore is in our employ.”

Hawk stiffened. “I am fully aware of the woman’s place in your home. Despite my rakish reputation, I have never dishonored a woman under the protection of my host.”