Page 60 of Counting on Love

No one commented. Georgiana wanted to scream. She felt she was in some bizarre bit of theater. As if the Taverstons were testing her to see when she would break.

Alice looked so bottled up, Georgiana worried she would break first. The Duchess, of course, coolly appeared to notice nothing amiss. But that wasn’t fair, since she had not witnessed the entrance of Mr. Tibury.

Table conversation was insipid. They would be going into the village tomorrow, so every shop had to be described in detail. Dinner finally ended, but there was to be no reprieve. The men were not even to be permitted their brandies as Lady Iversley marched them all to the music room.

It was—as she had discovered earlier, when searching for sheet music to help her prevaricate—poorly designed for a music room. Which made more sense now that she’d heard Chaumbers’ history. The piano was too close to the wall and the marble floor was half-covered with a thin carpet. The acoustics would be terrible. With the piano taking up space where it was, chairs could not be arranged except in front of the windows, which were drafty.

If she were in charge, she would move the billiard table to the library, the library shelving here, and put the piano in the billiard room. She put the thought from her head.

Alice was importuned first. She played a sonata. Then Olivia played something more lively.

“Shall we have a song next?” Lady Iversley asked. “Will you sing for us, Lady Georgiana?”

“Yes, I will.” Why else would I be wearing this dramatic dress? She moved to the piano and shuffled through the music.

“Crispin will play for you.”

Crispin rose, wordlessly, and came forward. He sat at the piano and waited for her to hand him a sheet. It was an aria, but not a particularly difficult piece. He looked at the music, then nodded and handed it back to her. He began the introduction from memory, which gave her courage. It was terrible stumbling through a piece when talents were mismatched.

She joined him at the appropriate moment, and then the music carried her along. She had a strong voice and she’d had an extraordinary teacher, but she’d been to enough operas to know how real singers should sound. There was no danger she would abandon society for life on the stage.

She finished her part and Crispin drew the piece to a close with a lovely, improvised tail—an effortless talent. The room was still. She opened her eyes, blinking, to find her mother’s eyes glistening, Lady Iversley smiling approval, and Reginald rubbing his nose.

“Where have I heard that before?” Jasper snickered. His attention appeared to have turned to his youngest brother rather than the performers, but even so, Georgiana started at his taunting tone. She could not consider mockery an appropriate response to anyone’s singing. “It was at a party, I think. Reg, do you remember? Who was the girl?”

Crispin pulled something from his pocket and lobbed it at his brother’s head. It thonked him right between the eyes. Georgiana jumped.

“Crispin!” Lady Iversley cried. “Good Heavens! Why on earth—was that an apple?”

The ladies all appeared similarly wide-eyed with the same confusion Georgiana felt, but Jasper merely picked the apple up from the floor and took a bite. “My mistake. Reg doesn’t go to parties.” He sounded smug.

Reginald said nothing. He simply looked embarrassed for no discernible reason.

Oh! It was maddening. Nothing the lords of Iversley did made any sense.