Nancy felt her pulse trip.He’s not joking. He is?—
“Uncle Oscar showed us how to play scales with only three fingers,” Henry announced.
“He showed us the secret,” Clara corrected. “You can’t tell anyone.”
Oscar’s lips twitched. “If you’re sworn to secrecy, perhaps we should send you to the Tower for treason.”
Henry paled, uncertain if this was an actual threat.
Nancy rescued him. “The Tower is drafty this time of year. I think we should stick to the music room.”
Oscar looked at her as if she had just handed him a map through some uncharted territory.
Nancy, aware that her own feet were in foreign soil, nearly backed away. “I should leave you to your lessons,” she said, voice a shade less certain than she’d hoped.
Oscar looked as if he wanted to stop her. “Stay,” he said, quietly.
But before she could decide, there was a clamor in the hall, and Miss Mercer appeared, searching for her charges.
“Clara! Henry! You must return to your beds.”
A groan went up from the bench. Henry slumped against the keys; Clara made a face.
Oscar glanced at Nancy. “I fear your reprieve is over.”
Clara’s expression shifted to cunning. “Can’t we finish the lesson first? We’re learning so much.”
Miss Mercer’s shadow appeared at the door. “What is this conspiracy?”
Henry piped up. “We are not conspiring. We are composing.”
Nancy stifled a laugh. “Miss Mercer, would it be possible for the children to finish their music? Just for today?”
Edith eyed the group, then nodded. “Ten minutes. Then arithmetic. No mutiny, or I’ll bring out the extra sums.”
She departed, leaving the door open.
Clara shot Nancy a grateful look and dove back to the keyboard.
Henry sidled up to Nancy, tugging her hand. “If we are a band, will you be in it too?”
“Of course,” Nancy said. “But you must let me be the conductor.”
Henry considered this. “Will you wear a hat?”
“I’ll wear two hats, if it helps,” Nancy promised.
Oscar watched them, something soft and unreadable in his face.
How strange,she thought,to have wanted so long to be elsewhere, and now to want nothing more than to stay right here.
She caught herself. “I’ll leave you to your symphony, then. Don’t let them eat the piano, Oscar.”
He gave a courtly bow. “I will do my utmost, Duchess.”
Nancy, not trusting herself to look back, walked out. Behind her, the music resumed—louder, wilder, somehow more joyous than before.
She thought, as she led the twins down the hallway, that maybe this was the start of something dangerous.
