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“The pianoforte?” she repeated in horror. “Oh, no, Father. Do you wish to punish our guests for something? For it would surely be a punishment to listen to my poor playing.”
“Surely your skills are not so poor,” the Earl said. His voice was deep, deeper than she had expected. It prompted her to turn her head back to him, seeing that glint was still in his eyes.
“Oh, Lord Northrive, I assure you they are. You would rather listen to Rupert here play the piano over me, I am sure,” she said, gesturing down to the Jack Russel at her heels.
“Nonsense, you are a fine player!” Rowena said, taking her arm and dragging her across the room before she could put up another objection.
“Do you wish to embarrass me further, Mother?” Violette asked under her breath, so only her mother could hear her.
“You have been practising, dear.”
“Not enough!”
“Then practice now.” Rowena pushed her down into the piano stool before she could make another objection. Violette tried to swallow past her nerves, wringing her hands a few times, as she looked across the room. Her father was trying to engage Lord Northrive in conversation, but he was now much more interested in petting Rupert, who was hovering at that end of the room to greet him.
“Mother,” Violette said, looking up to Rowena as she placed some sheet music on the piano. “This is a disaster in the making, and you know it.”
“Dear, your father is keen for you to improve and be accomplished,” Rowena said quietly, turning one of the pages so that she was ready to begin.
“The only thing I am accomplished in is horse riding!” she whispered hurriedly.
“What good will that do you for your debut?” Rowena said with raised eyebrows.
“Not much, I cannot argue with that.” Violette sighed and turned her attention to the sheet music, feeling the glare of her father from across the room. She had no choice but to play, even though she had about as much skill with the piano as Rupert had swimming in deep water.
She slowly placed her fingers to the piano, attempting the piece by Johan Sebastian Bach. She barely reached two bars into the piece before she played wrong notes. She hesitated, pausing and scrunching her nose up as she stared at the sheet music, trying to figure out what she had done wrong. There was so much she had already done wrong! Including starting in the wrong key.
“Violette,” Gideon said from across the room, urging her to look up from the piano keys. “Go to your room. You sound like you are attacking the piano rather than playing it.”
