Page 67 of Miss Devon’s Choice

Virginia insisted they stand in the reception line with her and the earl for a time.

“Rebecca is family, and Lord Easton will soon be as well,” she told them, her bearing regal, her word the law. “We must introduce your intended to the neighborhood, darling. And look how lovely you are this evening.”

Lovely wasn’t quite the word Rebecca wanted to use to describe the odd shade of pink she wore, but she supposed it was less offensive to the eye—and her sensibilities—than many of her gowns. Christian stood beside her and half a step behind, as though he meant to be her shadow or guard rather than her betrothed.

She’d never felt so safe, so protected, as when he’d taken her from her father’s home. With his silent strength at her back, her heart soared within her breast.

If only his attentiveness would lead to something more.

When there was a lull in the arrival of guests, Rebecca glanced back at him. “Are you sure you do not wish to play for us tonight, my lord? Your talent is too great for you to sit silent.”

Virginia heard and turned. “Really? You play, Lord Easton? Oh, I would simply love to have you perform for us this evening.”

Lucas chuckled. “Another talent, Easton? You are showing the rest of us up.”

Rebecca waited for Christian’s response, and darted a glance over her shoulder to see his expression. But it wasn’t as gentle as it had been.

“I do not play for others,” he said, his voice tight and his eyes darkening. “I told you this, carina.” Though he used the familiar endearment, his tone was one of reproof, and twin spots of red had appeared high on his cheeks.

Rebecca turned forward hastily. “I am sorry, my lord. I didn’t realize—”

“It is quite all right,” Virginia said smoothly, smiling at them both. “We have enough people to make it quite the evening.”

Then there were more guests to greet and Rebecca forced the uncomfortable instant from her mind. She had been wrong, of course, to try to tease him into performing. There were many people who did not like to exhibit themselves before others. They were either shy or thought such performances beneath them. Christian remained a man who valued his privacy, even if he had confided somewhat in her over their time together.

She swallowed back her disappointment, took herself in hand, and pasted a pleasant expression back on her face to accept the congratulations of her neighbors.

Her father never made an appearance, which must be counted as a victory for Christian.

When all guests had arrived, Christian escorted her into the music room, leading her to a seat at the front where all the performers sat together. There were only two gentlemen there, but several women, married and unmarried, including Miss Dunhill and Lady Felicity. Christian bowed when she sat, then took himself away to stand near the wall. The room was full to bursting with people, and the doors to the adjoining parlor had been opened to seat still more.

Rebecca pulled in a deep breath and glanced back, several times over the course of the evening, to make certain Christian still stood there. Thomas and Christine had come; they were seated near Christian’s place against the wall. Her stomach twisted and turned with nervousness, but when the time came, she felt she performed well.

She played for Christian, with liveliness of fingers and lightness of heart. She imagined him sitting on the bench beside her, remembered the feel of his kiss.

Though she was not at all the best performer of the evening, she did not feel ashamed when she stood to accept the applause. Her eyes flicked from the disapproving frown of her aunt to Christine and Thomas’s enthusiastic smiles.

But the sole reaction she cared for, the only opinion that mattered, was Christian’s.

And he was applauding her, his eyes bright and his chin tilted upward with pride. “Brava,” she heard him call over the clapping. “Brava.”

The day’s events had taken place over a lifetime, she felt certain, and not the space of a few hours. Yet, she was grateful for them. Even for the time spent at her father’s house. Somehow, it had brought Christian closer to her. Warmed him toward her. After fearing he didn’t want her at all, that he would withdraw from their betrothal, his complete devotion to her care had reaffirmed his honor.

Rebecca retook her seat and folded her hands in her lap, giving her full attention to the next performer. She could feel Christian’s eyes on her, his study of her, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

*

The next morning, Rebecca rose and went to her dressing table as usual. Hettie was already in the room, shaking out a gown and searching out matching slippers. Though Rebecca knew the gown, a hideous shade called Pomona green, made her complexion turn yellow, she did not argue about it. What would be the use of engaging in such a battle this morning?

She sighed and lowered herself to her chair, turning her head to examine the state of her curling papers. Then she stopped, glimpsing something out of place on the corner of the table.

A stack of books, tied with an old velvet ribbon, sat innocently among her ribbons and combs.

“Hettie,” she said, staring at the spines with wonder. “Where did these come from?”

Her maid came forward, barely casting a look at the books. “Lord Easton sent them up last evening, during dinner. It’s an odd sort of gift, miss, if you ask me.”

Rebecca’s heart swelled. He had rescued her mother’s books and returned them to her. He couldn’t know how much such a gesture meant, and that made it all the sweeter.