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“Oh, West. There are other factors at play. I’ve been accepting minor musical commissions on my father’s behalf and submitting them under his name. With his blessing, of late, but I can’t risk people finding out that they weren’t composed byhim. Right now I’m working on a commission for an original Christmas carol to be debuted at the Hanover Square Rooms and sung by choirs all over England.”
“That does change things. But not entirely. I think there’s still a way for you to—”
“West? Viola?” a voice called. Birdie came into view.
They jumped apart guiltily.
“We were just coming,” said West.
“Hurry or the sparkling wine will grow warm,” Birdie called.
The ladies gathered round when they returned, chattering and laughing about the musicale.
“Wasn’t it a wonderful evening?” Blanche asked. Viola noticed that she didn’t mention Lord Laxton’s absence. She had several other suitors now and had begun to forget him.
“Yes,” West said, clearing his throat. The tenderness in his eyes hit Viola with an almost physical force. “It was a wonderful evening and it was all because of Miss Viola Beaton,” he said, raising his glass of sparkling wine. The bubbles sparkled in the candlelight. And his smile was nearly as bright. “Who brings music, laughter, and sunshine into our home.”
“To Viola!” The ladies and West raised their glasses. Even Birdie had been allowed a half glass.
Viola blinked, fighting back the urge to cry. “To music, laughter, and sunshine,” she said, and they all drank.
Viola’s mind was still churning through theconversation with West. She’d opened up to him, told him more about her past than she’d told nearly anyone.
She watched him joking with his sisters, teasing them and giving them praise about their performances. She saw right through his careless, hedonistic facade to the kind, warm heart that beat beneath. He was lonely, and weary of empty pleasures. He loved his family and craved their companionship.
He’d settle down with Lady Winifred and they’d all be one big happy family.
And she had no role to play in their future.
She moved away from them, going to sit on the pianoforte bench in the next room.
“Viola? Is anything the matter?” asked Birdie, always so quick to notice other people’s emotions. She sat beside her on the bench.
“I’m only a little tired.”
“Is your father finished with the symphony yet?”
“Nearly. Only a few more days now.”
Birdie clasped her arms around Viola’s waist and laid her head on her shoulder. “That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to hear the grand symphony that was finished in our house.”
Viola ruffled her hair. “And your composition was very much admired this evening.”
Birdie smiled. “We’re very lucky to have you.”
“I’m afraid that after my father finishes his symphony we’ll be leaving the dower house and going to live in the countryside.”
“You can’t leave us!”
Viola sighed. “Your brother will marry soon and it’s time for me to leave.”
Birdie clenched her hands into fists. “I wish you were an heiress. Then West could marry you and we’d all live happily ever after.”
Viola smiled sadly. “Even if I were an heiress, I’m not highborn and have no social standing.”
“Don’t you want to marry West?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s the way of the world. Lady Winifred will make an excellent duchess.”
