Page 65 of A Symphony for the Earl

Her heart sank. “Lady Amelia, please…a ball like that is completely unnecessary. I’m such a strange choice for an earl’s bride that everyone will stare and wonder why he is marrying me.”

“I fear you must become accustomed to such attention. The ton loves a good mystery even more than a romance, and you’ve given them both. Something else will come along soon to distract them. I’ve told Hansen no callers today, as we have so much to plan. Perhaps this afternoon we will visit Madame Brigitte’s and choose the fabric for your wedding dress. And a gown for the betrothal ball. Richard has made arrangements for your trousseau, and she will need to know where to start.”

“Lady Amelia, I will not have Richard buy my clothing. There must be a limit to his generosity.”

“There is no need for such dramatics, Fiona. I think you underestimate the cost of a talent like Madame Brigitte’s. It’s the custom for a husband to provide for his wife, is it not? A trousseau is a wedding gift. Richard knows you will need to uphold a certain standard as the new Countess of Seldon, and he expects to assist.” Lady Amelia patted Fiona’s hand. “I know how independent you are, but I’m here to advise and guide you in whatever way I can. What are your thoughts on the wedding? Have you a preference for the flowers?”

As if carried on a tidal wave, she could do nothing but be swept along in the preparations. By noon, there was still no sign of Valentina and Octavia, and Lady Amelia suggested they might have gone to Valentina’s favorite hotel for luncheon. Fiona seized the opportunity to practice.

She chose to work on Haydn’s piano sonata in D major, which was always challenging. During a particularly difficult passage, the doors opened and Richard entered. Her heart skipped a beat, and the tempo fluctuated as he approached.

“Mother says you weren’t at breakfast. Are you not feeling well?”

“I wasn’t well enough to be the first to explain last night’s madness to your family.”

He chuckled, coming over to the piano.

She continued to play, moving smoothly into the largo. “What on earth do you find so amusing, my lord?”

“I thought you might leave that task to me.” Smiling, he sat and stretched his long legs. “And I need not ask about your reaction to the trousseau. Naturally, you have refused to accept one. Isn’t it nice to understand each other so well?”

She couldn’t resist laughing. “Then why do you do these things when you know I shall object?”

Richard didn’t answer, but casually regarded his Hessian boots, which were polished to gleaming ebony.

She stole a glance at him; the long-tailed dark-blue coat he wore was cut to perfection, emphasizing his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He had forgone his favorite buckskin breeches for the snug pantaloons quickly becoming the rage. This particular pair, in light gray, molded to his thigh and calf in a manner she tried hard to ignore.

The Haydn piece built to the second movement, andante con moto, and he closed his eyes, leaning back against the headrest of the chair.

“Mmm…the melody on this one is quite intricate, is it not?”

“You didn’t answer my question, Richard.”

“Perhaps I like teasing you, Fiona. But I hoped you’d understand it’s a matter of honor, even pride, to take exceptional care of one’s family when you’re blessed with my privileges. No woman under my protection, whether it be my wife or ward, shall want for anything I can provide. If I’m not mistaken, the girls are home. Meet us in the drawing room after you’ve finished. Meanwhile, I shall attempt to rein in Octavia. She’s anxious to see you.”

She reached the recapitulation of the presto, and her hands moved over the keys to the sonata’s original theme.

His blue-gray gaze flickered to her fingers, then her face. He stood close. Her playing wavered as he bent and lifted her chin, brushing her lips with a gentle thumb. Blue-gray eyes met green, and hers dropped first at the intensity of his gaze. Her fingers paused on the keys.

When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and very masculine. “One day I shall enjoy the luxury of listening to you play in private, just for me.”

She wondered at the heat those simple words produced.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lord Richard Extends an Invitation

When Fiona entered the drawing room, Octavia ran up and threw her arms about her waist, hugging her tightly.

“I’ve missed you! It was a lark to be with Aunt Catherine, but Bath is dull as an old nag during the Season!”

“Octavia,” sighed Lady Amelia, “wherever do you find such language?”

She and Richard sat on the blue-and-cream striped sofa, a sheaf of papers between them. He looked up, smiling.

“The stables, no doubt. I shall have to tell Jerome to watch his tongue.”

Octavia loosened her hold on her and skipped to one of the large armchairs by the fire. “Jerome is teaching me to jump fences. He says I’m a right brave bird. And that ain’t no fib.”