It was hard to say why he felt so uncomfortable in the Davenports’ music room. It was a large, well-appointed space, with a pianoforte on one platform and a harp on another, with dust-free bookshelves curling around the walls. It was an excessively pretty room, and exactly what a music room was supposed to look like.
Ah. That was it, then.
The room looked as though it had been chosen by somebody who wanted to impress visitors, rather than making a practical music room. All the music rooms that Nathan had visited tended to be something of a mess, with sheets of music piled up on the floor, on the instrument, on any and all available chairs. Any bookshelves were in a state of disarray, and one wouldneverput a pianoforte in direct sunlight, no matter how pleasing it might make the player appear.
He noticed that chairs were placed casually in front of the pianoforte, as if waiting for an invisible audience.
“We’ll have tea in here immediately!” Lady Davenport ordered a footman, clicking her fingers. Miss Davenport threw Nathan a coy look over her shoulder and ascended the platform to the pianoforte.
“What a treat, eh?” Lord Davenport said, nudging Nathan and flashing him a wink. “I’m a little biased, to be sure, but my Amanda is the finest pianoforte player in Society this year. Pray, sit down.”
Nathan obeyed. There didn’t seem much else to do. Amanda rather grandly took her seat, fingers hovering over the keys. Lady Davenport stood beside her, careful not to get in the way of the idyllically golden light streaming through the window and bathing Amanda in a halo of glittering sunlight. Lord Davenport sat directly beside Nathan, leaning towards him.
“Have you considered the matter I mentioned to you, then?”
Nathan had known that this was coming. Of course it was coming. Lord Davenport was not the sort of man to bring something up only once and never push the issue. Clearing his throat, Nathan shifted in his seat.
Amanda began to play. It was a fashionable piece, light but complex. There was no denying that she had talent. Her fingers danced nimbly over the keys, her feet tap-tapping the pedals at just the right moments. She played well, very well, and judging by the quick, self-satisfied smiles she kept throwing towards Nathan, she knew it, too.
Lady Davenport kept glancing over at Nathan too, unashamed gauging the effect Amanda’s playing was having on him.
I should be enraptured,he thought, in a strange, dizzy moment of disconnect.And yet I don’t feel a thing. Not a thing.
In a flash, he found himself remembering Miss Randall’s music, that swooping, mesmerizing violin with its haunting strains, familiar yet unfamiliar. His chest ached at the memory.
Lord Davenport cleared his throat, and Nathan realised that he had not answered. An answer, of course, was more than necessary.
“It’s a serious matter,” Nathan answered, hating himself for taking the cowardly way out and all but avoiding the question. “I shouldn’t like to rush my decision.”
“No, no, of course not,” Lord Davenport grunted. “But come, the Season is almost over. What else is there to decide? Amanda is a perfect match for you, and you for her. Why bother to look elsewhere?”
Nathan did not respond, and Lord Davenport shot him a hard stare.
“There has been talk of you paying attention to Miss Randall,” he said, his voice heavy and stony. “Little things, here and there. Nothing that can’t be explained away as a kindly gentleman taking pains to make a woman feel at ease when she is so clearly out of her depth. Such efforts are often misinterpreted. You would not be the first man to fall victim to such a thing.”
Amanda’s music was reaching a crescendo. Lady Davenport was fixated on Nathan, and when it came time to turn the pages, did not budge an inch. Amanda faltered, playing wrong notes, and hissed up at her mother.
“Mama! The page!”
Poor Lady Davenport flinched, flustered, and knocked the music off the pianoforte and into Amanda’s lap.
“Heavens, what a mess,” Lord Davenport muttered, the music pausing while they recovered themselves. “It isn’t ordinarily this bad, you know.”
Nathan cleared his throat. “It isn’t bad at all. Miss Davenport’s playing is exceptionally good. I believe she’s renowned in Society for her talents on the instrument.”
“And the harp, too, don’t forget the harp,” Lord Davenport agreed. He shot another look at Nathan. “I hear that Miss Randall screeches about on violin. Not a ladylike instrument, in my opinion.”
He said it in such a way as to indicate that there couldbeno other opinion.
The playing resumed, with Amanda’s confidence visibly diminished, and her mother apologetic and flustered.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you sidestepping my question,” Lord Davenport spoke again, his eyes fixed on his daughter, his voice lowered so as to hide under the music. “I’m no fool, you know.”
“I never said that you were, Lord Davenport.”
“Mayhap I haven’t been clear enough, though. I shall remedy that now. You and Amanda have been all but betrothed for years. Your father and I always planned to make this match. Your mother had some foolish ideas about you choosing your own match, but I am a practical man and so was the late viscount. You can dither and delay all you want, but I shall expect you to offer for Amanda well before the end of the Season. I consider it a bargain struck between us.”
Nathan clenched his jaw, a muscle quivering in his cheek. “Oh? I wasn’t aware of such a bargain.”
