“Oh, James,” Victoria chided. “Let Robert enjoy the concert.”
“I will, but until the music starts, allow me to torment him just a little.”
Robert had to laugh. He liked James, who had a good sense of fun. In that, he and Victoria were identical. She had always had a good sense of fun.
He looked around as James and Victoria settled down to chat. Perhaps Miss Brooke would still come—they were early, and there were many empty seats.
The room began to fill up slowly. Robert tried to refrain from looking around for Miss Brooke, and tried to focus on his mother and her constant efforts to make him talk to Lady Marina. But he could not concentrate. Every sense strained for the arrival of Miss Brooke’s party.
The sound of chatter was loud—so loud that individual conversations were almost impossible. Robert leaned back. He spotted the other door—the one that led to the front of the room—opening fractionally and he guessed the musicians were about to make their entrance.
Just as the door opened, another group of people arrived. Robert watched as Lord and Lady Averhill, two other guests whose name he did not recall, and then Miss Brooke, crossed the floor. The only seats left were the ones in the front row. Robert watched as they hastily took their seats. His heart ached. He studied the back of Miss Brooke’s head, willing her to turn around. Her chestnut hair remained resolutely turned towards him, her face towards the front.
Turn around, Robert wished, but the musicians were already filing out of the doorway and the applause to welcome them filled the room. Robert clapped, surprised as always by how muted it was by the indoor gloves that he—and everyone else in the audience—wore.
The musicians took their seats. There were five of them—four musicians with stringed instruments and one pianist. Robert watched as they tuned up. He liked music, but had little interest in how to play anything, and he did not watch too intently as the pianist lifted her hands onto the keys and began to play.
Music, sweet, rich-toned and gentle, poured through the room. Robert shut his eyes, surprised by how it affected him. The sweet notes soared as his heart did when he saw Miss Brooke. The melodious tune reminded him of how relaxed he felt in her company, how he longed to talk to her.
“She’s very talented,” Lady Marina whispered.
“Mm,” Robert replied, wincing at the interruption. He had been lost in thought, imagining Miss Brooke where she stood on the balcony at the ball, her chestnut hair catching the pale light, her skin petal-soft in the half-dark beyond the window.
Beside him, his mother was entranced, her eyes half-shut, head nodding slowly. His heart twisted—sometimes she seemed so vulnerable, and he remembered that she was really just frightened of losing her own power and status. His wife would displace her. She had barely tolerated Elizabeth at first, but Elizabeth had understood how vulnerable she really was.
Miss Brooke might too,he thought, frowning.
He glanced over at her. She was sitting very still; the elegant hairstyle she wore the only detail he could see clearly. He gazed at her, taking in the rich chestnut tones of her hair, her pale skin visible above the neck of the gown, and the long peach dress that she wore. He had never seen her wear that color.
The music rose and fell, weaving a magical space in which he was free to imagine whatever he wished to. He filled the space with images of Miss Brooke—her laughter, her bright eyes as she looked up at him, her hand gentle as she reached out to Henry, who was running along the terrace, laughing, his smile as bright as the daylight that fell on the pond nearby.
Robert reached up, realizing that a tear had run down his cheek. Imagining little Henry so happy, seeing him laugh and joke as he did with Miss Brooke—had healed something inside him.
I want that for him. I want him to be happy again. I want happiness for myself, too.Miss Brooke makes me happy.
The thought cannoned into him like a blow, making him catch his breath. Being around Miss Brooke, made him remember how to be happy.
What is happening?he thought wildly.Am I falling in love?
He swallowed hard. Indeed, it was possible. He had fallen in love before, and he knew how it felt. This, admittedly, was different. Elizabeth had been different and he had been younger; not the same. But the joy, the ease, the wonder—those were the same.
He glanced down at his hands, needing to anchor himself in the present. Yes, he was falling in love.
His gaze roved up towards Miss Brooke, staring at the back of her head.
He willed her to turn around, but the musicians had concluded a piece and applause swelled and grew around him. He added his own, clapping with sincere appreciation for the musicians.
Another piece followed, and Robert’s attention wandered to Lady Marina sitting beside him. She was watching the pianist, her paper fan folded and tapping against her lips as she watched. She was pretty and polite, and he wished he could feel anything at all for her, but he could not fall in love on command. He glanced over at his mother, feeling helpless. She had wedged him into an intolerable position—literally, by seating him next to Marina, and figuratively too. He was being cornered, edged towards a future he wished to escape.
The sound of clapping—loud and harsh—interrupted his thoughts, and he joined in, lost in thought. The concert wore on.
As the triumphant notes of an encore faded, Robert shot up in his seat. He had to get out of the room. He had to find Miss Brooke. His heart raced.
“Son! Perhaps you could escort Lady Marina and myself to the terrace? I feel quite faint. I need to take the air. It is too hot in here.”
“Mama...” Robert began, but Lady Marina spoke up.
“Yes. Please, Your Grace. I feel terribly lightheaded. I think I might suffer a fit of the vapors.”
