Page 38 of Real Earls Break the Rules

Amelia spotted Brandon as he escorted his grandmother to the front row. A restless energy about his movements implied he did not want to be here, but had no choice.

She sympathized.

Brandon sat, and the duchess and dowager occupied chairs beside him.

Helen walked to the pianoforte, spread her voluminous skirts on the bench, and began to play. Amelia recognized the song as “Chastity, Thou Cherub Bright,” by Handel. Minerva stood next to the pianist; hands folded demurely in front of her, and opened her mouth to sing.

It wasn’t a horrible voice, but neither was it particularly fine.

Weston shifted in his seat. “How many songs do you think she’ll sing?”

“I don’t believe they said.” As this was her first country house party, she had no idea. Was one song enough? Perhaps two?

“This past winter I was obliged to attend Lord Holloway’s daughter’s musicale. It lasted three and a half hours.”

“Three and a half hours!” Her voice rose an octave. Once again the dowager spun around to glare at her. The woman scowled, then turned rigidly in her seat.

“Goodness,” Amelia whispered. “I had no idea one person could sing for that long.”

Weston smiled. “That’s why I always choose a seat in the back row. I can make a quick escape and no one is the wiser.” His eyes twinkled behind his spectacles.

He had a better sense of humor than she’d initially thought. He wasn’t brooding or quiet, just someone who needed to feel at ease before revealing his true personality. She found herself enjoying his company.

“Do you escape to discuss politics?” she asked.

“No. I find evening strolls most pleasant.”

An evening stroll sounded wonderful to Amelia. But then again, anything other than sitting through a lengthy performance by Lady Minerva sounded better to her at the moment.

“I’d love for you to join me, but from the look of the dowager shooting you glares and your sister’s presence, I don’t suppose you would be able to escape unnoticed.”

Amelia’s lips twitched. “I don’t suppose so.”

“Then I will gladly stay. I’d never leave a damsel in distress. Especially one as lovely as you,” Weston said.

He was flirting with her. But for some reason, she didn’t mind his attentions. His behavior was far from his drunken and roguish brother’s, Lord Emmett. She hadn’t witnessed Weston engage any of the other young ladies at the house party, whereas Emmett flirted with everyone in a skirt.

If Weston took after his older brother, the marquess, then Amelia understood why Helen was so enamored with her betrothed.

Thirty-five minutes later, they had endured four more songs. Amelia stifled a yawn. If this went on much longer she would be too exhausted to venture through the secret passageway to paint tonight.

She glanced at Brandon seated in the front row. He looked as tired as she felt, and she experienced a pang of sympathy. Seated between his grandmother and the duchess, he couldn’t yawn outright and had to look as if he were enjoying the lengthy performance.

The current song ended and the occupants in the room simultaneously held their breath…hoping…wishing she was finished, but then the piano music began again. This time the song was one by Mozart—Voi che sapte.

Minerva’s voice cracked.

Amelia cringed. The song was clearly out of the lady’s range.

Weston rolled his eyes. “Good God.”

The music began to grate on Amelia’s ear until at last the performance was over. The guests clapped and Brandon, as earl and head of the family, went over and raised Minerva’s hand to his lips.

Minerva smiled gaily, oblivious to the pain and suffering that the occupants of the room had endured.

Amelia stood. Her back ached from sitting in the wood chair. Weston turned to her and offered Amelia the same gesture Brandon had just extended to Lady Minerva. He raised her fingers and brushed his lips across her hand.

“If I had to experience such a musical debacle, I’m fortunate to have sat next to you,” he said softly as he studied her face.