Page 77 of A Symphony for the Earl

When she descended the stairs, Valentina waited on the landing.

“Where is everyone?” Fiona looked around.

“Richard is giving last instructions to the musicians, and Mama went with Mrs. Talbot to greet the caterers. Come, let’s find your fiancé. It’s customary for the wedding couple to welcome the guests together.”

Denys greeted them at the entrance to the ballroom and whisked Valentina away to oversee the seating arrangements. Fiona peeked inside. Scores of candelabras were everywhere, along with an abundance of elegant flower arrangements set on tall pedestals. The dark-blue ceiling painted with stars gave a fairytale atmosphere to the spacious room. She spotted Richard conversing with the conductor as the musicians took their places in the corner.

He was resplendent in formal dress, from the snowy cravat to the superb cut of his black swallow-tailed coat and biscuit-colored breeches. A silk waistcoat embroidered in gold and scarlet thread completed the ensemble. Fiona knew by now Richard favored patterns of blue in his waistcoats and guessed he had enquired about the color of her dress. It was a surprisingly intimate gesture and her stomach fluttered at the thought.

He casually rested a foot on the dais where the musicians tuned their various instruments. A meticulous hand had polished his Hessian boots to an impossible shine, and they fit his calves like a second skin. He wore no fobs, only a quizzing glass on a black riband and his gold signet ring. She wondered if she were to marry the most handsome man in London.

In that uncanny way he had, Richard looked up as if sensing her gaze. He gave a last word to the maestro and met her at the door.

“Ah, the new gown. It is everything I have heard and much more.”

He hesitated, and Fiona realized he was uncertain of his welcome. With the note of apology still fresh in her mind, she decided she wanted to start the evening without recriminations.

“That is high praise indeed from a man who sets fashion. Richard, I—may we start afresh and forget that other night…at least how it ended?”

He bent and pressed his lips to her glove, then he turned it over and kissed her open palm. “I cannot completely dismiss what happened between us,” he murmured. “My desire for you is always extraordinary, but our recent connection, the music we’ve shared—such intimacy is new to me.” His blue-gray eyes were dark with emotion. “Tell me it was there for you as well.”

“Yes,” she breathed, her throat dry.

“I hoped so.” His smile rivaled the surrounding candles. “I see you wear the pearls. There is always a risk you’ll toss any gifts back in my face.”

“That’s untrue, Richard. Haven’t I just accepted a very expensive trousseau? Full of more intimate things than jewels, I may add.”

“Much to my relief, you did. And quite a few of those ‘intimate’ items I begged Madame Brigitte to include.”

She was definitely blushing. “But seriously, Richard, you must stop bombarding me with presents. It is completely unnecessary.”

He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her cheek. “You miss the point entirely. I find a singular pleasure in giving you things. Have you forgotten my analogy, Fiona? A poorer man might spend all his coin on a hat or a pair of gloves for his wife. I, in contrast, can afford jewels.”

“Truly, you are dúsachtach.”

“I gather that isn’t a compliment,” he said sadly.

She stifled a giggle. How could such a serious man be such a shameless tease? Wouldn’t it be something to marry an English earl who made her laugh and loved music and caused her heart to beat faster…perhaps this marriage might be all she wished.

“And when do you suppose, Fiona, I might earn endearments instead of epithets?”

“Perhaps when you behave less foolishly.”

“Come, spare just one. Throw a beggar a crumb, I implore you.”

Standing on tiptoes, she whispered in his ear, “Is tú ceol mo chro.”

He repeated the phrase, imitating her accent quite well. “And what have you said?”

“You are the music of my heart.”

Silence vibrated between them, broken by the chiming of a clock. He released a long breath. “I shall have you repeat that later when we’re alone. Many times.”

Her heart pounded so violently she knew he must hear.

“It is nearly nine o’clock. We must take our places. Are you ready, love?”

She hesitated, touching his sleeve. “Richard—” The musicians behind them began to play a lilting country air. “I will do my best to make our marriage a happy one.”