Page 18 of A Symphony for the Earl

He didn’t recognize the piece; it was too bold for Mozart or Hayden. Richard hesitated at the door, pushing back in the rush of emotions flooding over him. So many times a piano had been his only refuge from his father’s drunken excesses and the obvious unhappiness of his mother.

The melody shifted to a less emotional passage, a minuet. Richard quietly entered the room.

It was Miss Rafferty at the piano, so caught up in her playing that she remained unaware of his entrance. The swift change in tempo was bold and vibrant—not a typical piece for Mozart, whose compositions were quite patterned. Schubert or Beethoven?

He joined his mother on the sofa. Lady Amelia’s mouth was slightly open, Valentina looked enraptured, and Octavia, perched on a hassock, listened in rare silence.

The piano sonata shifted to a technically difficult third movement. It was executed with drama and passion, yet the music held a faint motif of yearning from the adagio.

Miss Rafferty’s hands flew across the keys. The span of her reach was impressive. Fortissimo to piano, staccato then legato—this music encompassed it all. Beethoven, he thought.

He couldn’t take his eyes away from the piano or the musician. Miss Rafferty’s dark head was tilted toward the music, her eyes half closed. She breathed in a soft murmur of pleasure during a particularly poignant passage.

Richard found the image erotic, and that was extremely disquieting. After all, Miss Rafferty was his ward and a member of his family now. Why on earth should he wonder what her kisses might taste like?

The piece closed with a flood of rippling scales, rapid arpeggios, and an emotional denouement. The final chords were fermata, lingering as if they were reluctant to end.

For a moment, there was silence in the room. Valentina and Octavia leaped to their feet, applauding enthusiastically. His mother seemed stunned.

Miss Rafferty’s fingers rested on the piano for a moment, then she shook her head slightly as if to clear it. He joined in the applause, and she looked up in surprise.

“Lord Seldon. I didn’t see you enter.”

“You were lost in the music, Miss Rafferty. That piece is familiar, but I can’t quite place it. Beethoven, perhaps?”

“Yes, his Sonata No.14 in C-sharp Minor. Are you fond of music, my lord?”

“My son played as a child.” The pain on his mother’s face surprised him.

“It was a long time ago and I haven’t touched a piano in many years. How did you come to play, Miss Rafferty? Your gift is extraordinary.”

“Mháthair started teaching me when I turned five. She would have been a true prodigy had she not married young and left Ireland to live in Barbados.”

Most accomplished young ladies could play the piano, usually ballads or folk tunes and dances. They played a little Haydn or Bach, perhaps the occasional Mozart. Those especially proficient took part in recitals or musicales. No woman performed like his ward; her talent, her interpretation and expression were quite beyond the pale. If she were a man, Miss Rafferty would no doubt achieve the celebrity of a virtuoso.

“The piano needed to be tuned, but it is a beautiful instrument.” Fiona’s hands gently caressed the ivory keys. A soft arpeggio echoed in the quiet room. “I hope you don’t mind if I use it to practice.”

“Mind?” Valentina exclaimed. “I, for one, will welcome it. I have never heard such music.”

Fiona blushed and looked down at her hands. “I attended the Dublin Conservatory of Music, Lord Seldon, and studied for three years before I had to come to London.”

“I am sorry that your time there was interrupted,” Richard told her. “Would you like me to secure a mentor or a teacher here? I can easily make inquiries.”

Her smile was incandescent. How could he have ever thought Miss Rafferty’s looks unremarkable? He imagined suitors would soon overrun his doorstep.

“Thank you, my lord. Perhaps when I have recovered my skills, I will accept your offer.”

A footman entered with the tea service.

“Is it four o’clock already?” Lady Amelia asked. “The afternoon has flown by. I will pour, thank you, Thomas. Octavia, Miss Ernest had some errands to run, but I’m sure she is home now. I insist on another hour of study before the day is over.”

“But I want to stay for tea. Can’t I please?” This was addressed to Richard rather than her mother, and he smiled back at her. It was easy to indulge Octavia; her quick mind and high spirits amused and delighted him more often than not.

“One cup, Octavia, then you will do as your mother requests.”

“I regret we had to postpone our drive, Richard,” Lady Amelia lifted her cup. “Things always take longer at Madame Brigitte’s than expected. I hope tomorrow will do?”

He nodded. “It’s rather cloudy today, so it was for the best. We shall hope for better weather tomorrow. Does three o’clock still suit?”