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The coach cameto a stop in front of Miss Locke’s stately country home and Guy stepped out, not bothering to wait for the footman to assist him. He was only here because he didn’t dare refuse her dinner invitation. It would have been intolerably rude to do so. At least, that is what he kept telling himself. But, truth be told, he found himself intrigued by the lovely Miss Locke. She was a delightful contradiction he found himself most curious about.
He had never met a young woman who cared as deeply for others as Miss Locke did. She was passionate about helping the coal miners, especially the children. It wasn’t an act, but she was genuine in her endeavors. It had been his experience that people in Society only seemed to care for themselves, so he found her behavior truly fascinating.
As he walked to the door, it opened, and the butler greeted him. “Good evening, Mr. Stewart,” he said, opening the door wide.
“Good evening,” Guy replied as he stepped into the entry hall.
“If you would care to wait in the drawing room, I was just about to ring the dinner bell,” the butler informed him.
Guy tipped his head in acknowledgement as he walked towards the drawing room just off the entry hall. He stepped inside and admired the shiny, black pianoforte in the corner.
Vaguely detecting the ring of the dinner bell, he sat on the bench, placed his hands on the ivory keys, and started playing a piece by Mozart. He let his fingers dance across the keys as the music brought back a flood of pleasant memories. Once the song concluded, he withdrew his hands and sat there for a long moment.
Miss Locke’s voice came from the doorway. “That was lovely.”
He shifted on the bench to face her and saw that she looked beautiful in a pale pink gown with white trim along the round neckline. “I apologize for presuming to play without an invitation. I’m afraid it has been quite some time since I played the pianoforte, and I couldn’t resist,” he admitted.
She walked further into the room and stopped next to the instrument. “It didn’t appear that way,” she replied. “You performed with such fervor.”
“I do appreciate that.”
“When did you learn how to play?”
“When I was at Eton,” he replied. “I was teased relentlessly for it, but I found myself drawn to the pianoforte.”
“Why would anyone tease you for playing the pianoforte?”
“Why, indeed?” Guy asked. “But the boys at Eton were merciless when it came to teasing me. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.”
“That sounds awful.”
“I grew accustomed to it.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“No, but I did learn a valuable lesson,” Guy said. “If I didn’t stand up for myself, then no one else would.”
“That is a hard lesson to learn at such a young age.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t have time to be coddled, I’m afraid.”
Miss Locke’s eyes roamed over the pianoforte. “I envy how well you can play,” she said. “I struggle with it.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I require the use of spectacles to read the sheet music, and I am unable to do so when I play for others.”
“Why not?”
She gave him a disbelieving look. “A lady does not wear spectacles in public,” she said. “It just isn’t done.”
“That is rather vain, is it not?”
“Perhaps, but I memorized a few easy pieces to play when I go to social gatherings,” Miss Locke replied. “I have learned that most people do not care what I play as long as I play.”
“It is a shame that you allow others to dictate your actions.”
“I am doing no such thing,” she defended. “I am still playing the pianoforte.”
