In the Arms of an Earl Read Online Free PDF Page B

peony and knelt to get it. When she rose again, he was staring quite fixedly at her. She’d forgotten how thin and threadbare this night rail was. It was quite plain from his surprised look he’d noticed more than just her hand.
    “Good night,” she whispered, choking on her own words. What was she thinking? Worse, what did he think of her? Perhaps he thought she was the kind of girl a man could easily compromise. She certainly hadn’t rebuffed him. Mortified, she moved past him.
    “I haven’t played in such a long time. I’ve missed it.” The yearning was unmistakable in his voice.
    She paused and faced him again. “You’re so much better than I am. I wish I could play like you.”
    “I’ve had good masters, and a rather indulgent mother.” His lips twitched, but the hint of a smile vanished with the appearance of a frown. “It is difficult now, with one hand, of course.”
    She had no reply. What agony he must have suffered, losing not only his hand, but his most obvious talent. She could not imagine being unable to pursue the one thing she loved the most.
    “I’ll say good night, Colonel Blakeney. Thank you, again, for your instruction.”
    He closed the lid of the pianoforte and pressed his hand to it. “It is I who thank you. I had forgotten…”
    His voice faded, and she studied his face. He was younger than she’d first thought. Suffering could age a person. She’d witnessed the men from her village coming home from the war. Although she’d been a child, she’d wondered at their haunted eyes, stark in their youthful faces.
    He regarded her, seemingly lost in the silence. She was aware of her loose hair, flowing freely down her back. Lucinda would certainly pout in the morning after taking the trouble of plaiting it for the new portrait.
    “I’ll see you at breakfast.” She wondered why the silence between them was suddenly awkward, though she’d shared the bench with him for three hours without a second thought.
    “Breakfast it is.”
    She hurried from the room and didn’t look back. He called good night, but she was already halfway up the stairs.
    She reached Lucinda’s bedchamber and closed the door behind her. She’d never done anything so daring in her life and couldn’t begin to think of the consequences of her actions. What if Colonel Parker had heard the music and investigated? He might not have said anything because Colonel Blakeney was his friend. But he could write her father, or worse, send her packing in the morning for bringing such an insult to his home.
    She pressed her hands to her chest, willing her breathing to return to normal. Music had been her link to him and the sole reason for overstepping the bounds of propriety. If only she could take lessons from Colonel Blakeney without incurring derision from her hosts. Jeremy would be sure to sneer, and Lucinda would be unhappy if Jane chose playing over sitting for endless portraits.
    Her desires mattered little, however. Colonel Blakeney was merely a guest, the same as she. Eventually, his visit would end and he would leave. She would never see him again.
    She walked to the window and pressed her forehead against the pane. The frosty glass did little to cool her heated brow.
    Sitting beside a genius for half the night had caused her hands to sweat and her breath to rush from her lips, as though she had walked the perimeter of Shropshire. Her loss of composure had nothing to do with the man himself. How could it? Their lives were worlds apart. Surely, he had taken pity on her for her lack of instruction. He was simply being kind.
    Purple clouds formed on the horizon. A few stars remained overhead, twinkling lazily in the coming dawn. The sun would rise soon, and the household would be all a-flutter at the colonel’s arrival. She would probably never be alone with him again.
    She brushed her fingertips over her cheeks, surprised they were damp with tears. Music and feeling and…and F.B. had intermingled in her soul, until