Heart Strings (Music of the Heart Book 1)

by Donna Hatch

  Kit gripped his violin case until his fingers ached as a thousand questions roared through his mind.

  Susanna seemed to fold in upon herself. “No one wants to inherit a poor relation when they inherit a property. Now that her daughter is about to come out, my aunt doesn’t want me underfoot.” As they passed a streetlamp, the light illuminated her face and shone on her eyes filling with tears. She whispered, “I’m an embarrassment to her.”

  Kit softened at her words. He couldn’t imagine her being an embarrassment to anyone. She was perfectly poised and gracious, even in a lowering situation. Her manners were impeccable. She spoke with the cultured accent and musical tones of a queen. Adding to that her talent of playing the harp like an angel, she had much to offer. She was even prettier than he’d first believed. One burning question remained; was she being honest with him?

  He shook his head. “I still don’t understand. If she only wanted you gone, why would she go to all the trouble to offer a reward for your return?”

  She shook her head. “I cannot imagine. She was always going on about how she wished I were no longer her concern.”

  “And this…Algernon.” Kit wished a pox on the man. “He is in love with you and wants you to come back?”

  She let out a derisive huff. “No. Honestly, we’ve scarcely conversed. I usually find an excuse to keep out of his sight when he visited. He simply needs a wife to become a vicar as per the terms of that particular vicarage. I suppose my aunt begged him to take me off her hands as a way to help them both.”

  “So he wants to take you for his wife in order to be appointed as a vicar?”

  “It seems so. There certainly is no affection between us, and my dowry is not much of a temptation. Although, I suppose for a vicar, it might be adequate.” She shivered. “I cannot—will not—marry him, no matter what she does to me.”

  Memories of his father’s bullying awakened new sympathies toward her. If she were honest, if her aunt really were trying to force a marriage, he couldn’t blame Susanna for balking. Or running.

  He tried to gentle his voice, but fear that she’d been playing some game with him edged into his voice. “Why is he so undesirable?”

  “Not only is he sixteen years my senior, he’s rude and thick-witted and he has gout. More importantly, he is unkind in every regard.” She grimaced. “He strikes servants, he slaps maids on their, er, in an inappropriate place, and I’ve seen him be cruel to animals.”

  Kit’s opinion of the unknown man fell even further. A man such as he would surely make Susanna miserable…if she were all he thought she was until moments ago. “You can think of no other reason they want you back badly enough to send someone after you with the offer of a reward?”

  She shook her head. “I suppose if the banns have already been read, they’re trying to spare themselves some embarrassment. I can’t imagine why else. My aunt made it clear she wanted me out of her house,” she choked, “as soon as possible.”

  He felt a beast pushing her, but he had to be sure. “You didn’t…take anything when you left?”

  “Only a change of clothes, a miniature of my parents, a few pins, my brother’s letters, and my mother’s wedding ring.” Her lower lip trembled. “I sold my pins and my mother’s ring in a village outside of Bedford to buy my ticket for the mail coach. It was so lovely, gold and sapphire—the only thing I had of hers.” Her voice faded. She sighed and shook her head. “I saw no other way.”

  Even in the semi-darkness, tears on her cheeks became visible. Silently, she wiped her cheeks. If those were tears of an actress, she was certainly playing it subtle. He wanted to believe her. She seemed so genuine. Dancing with her had been a rare delight. He’d become aware of her on a deeper level—cared for her on a deeper level—than he had experienced before.

  Why would her relatives send someone determined to drag her back home? Something didn’t fit. “And you took nothing else—nothing of value, even if you considered it yours for the taking?”

  “No. The miniature of my parents in my portmanteau can’t be of much value to anyone other than to me.” She paused. Her breathing changed. “You think I’m a thief?” The shock and hurt in her voice could not be mistaken.

  “Why are they so desperate to get you back if they value you so little?”

  She glared at him. He offered a challenging, searching look of his own. Hurt, mixed with anger, revealed themselves in her expression.

  She straightened and lifted her chin. Indignantly, she said, “You are right—I have no value to them. I don’t know why they want me back. If you don’t trust me and you truly believe me a criminal, then we have nothing to say.” She banged on the door. “Stop the coach!”

  Before he realized what she was about, she grabbed her portmanteau, opened the door, and leaped out before the coach had fully stopped. She hit the street with a thud and a tangle of skirts and rolled. Instantly, she got up and ran.

  “Stop!” Kit yelled. He barely had the presence of mind to grab his violin case before he leaped out after her.

  “Oi! Me fare!” the jarvey yelled.

  “I’ll be back—wait here,” Kit called over his shoulder. He charged after her, following her thin, shadowy form as it dashed ahead into the fog. “Susanna, wait!”

  No reply. No motion.

  He slowed to a stop. Where had she gone? Between darkness and fog, he could barely see even familiar landmarks. “Susanna?”

  No response. Still, she had to be nearby. A dog barked. A male form strode past.

  Kit tried again. “Susanna, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to question your character, but I don’t know you very well—it’s only been two days. Well, two nights.” Egad, that came out wrong. “Two evenings. And a short time this morning.” Good grief, now he was babbling. “It’s hardly long enough to really take measure of someone’s character.”

  “Quiet down there!” someone hollered from an open window.

  He lowered his voice. “Please come back. I won’t leave you here alone.”

  He waited, his thumping heart the only detectable sound. Then, finally, a rustle. A tiny form stepped out of the shadows.

  “I am not a thief.” Her voice, calm and firm, spoke as sweet as music.

  He released his breath, only just then realizing how frightened he’d been that she might have run so far that she was alone and unprotected in the streets.

  “I took nothing that belongs to them.” Her firm voice rang of truth.

  “Forgive me. I had to hear those words from you to know for sure.”

  She made no move.

  He held out an arm. “Come, it’s not safe here. I’ll take you home.”

  She folded her arms. “That’s not necessary. I can find my own way.” Her indignant tones might have made him smile if the situation weren’t so grave.

  “It’s two o’clock in the morning, and we’re in an unsavoury part of town. I am not leaving you here unprotected.”

  She said nothing.

  He held his breath. If she refused, he just might toss her over his shoulder and carry her to safety. She’d probably scream and alert the night watch, however, and that would create more trouble than he wanted.

  He tried again. “I believe you, Susanna—I don’t think you are thief. Please come with me.”

  She threw up her hands and grumbled, “Very well—only so you’ll leave me in peace.”

  He remained motionless as she moved to his side, but she folded her arms rather than take his. Whether she did it to make a point or out of an attempt to stay warm in the chilly, damp night, he could not decide. He removed his coat and placed it over her shoulders. She stiffened. He half-expected her to throw off his coat. Instead, after a pause, she unfolded her arms and snuggled into it. He gestured to her portmanteau and held out a hand. Again a pause. Finally, she relinquished it to him. He switched it to his other hand so she could take his arm if she chose. She did not. Side-by-side, they walked silently back to the waiting hackney. He handed her in and too
k the rear-facing seat. She remained folded in on herself.

  Inside the hackney, he set his violin case and her portmanteau on the seat next to him. “Where do you want me to take you?”

  “You can take me to the King’s Theatre. I can walk from there.”

  So she didn’t want him to know where she lived. He supposed he couldn’t blame her, but it stung. After he called out instructions to the jarvey, they rode in silence.

  They arrived at the impressive structure on Haymarket and stopped in front of the arches. Kit glanced up at the tall columns gracing the second floor of the King’s Theatre and then peered down the street. To his knowledge, there were no suitable living spaces nearby. She had to be staying somewhere in the area because she always seemed close at hand.

  “Where, exactly, shall I leave you?”

  “This is adequate.” She snatched up her portmanteau, opened the door and stepped out before he had a chance to help her. She took several steps in the opposite direction from where she’d walked last night and then turned around. “You may go now.”

  “Why are you so concerned that I discover where you live? Surely you don’t think I’m the kind of scoundrel who would force my way into your chamber.”

  She shifted her hold on the portmanteau. “No.”

  “Are you worried I’ll reveal your whereabouts to your family or that man who made a grab for you?”

  She stiffened. “Would you?”

  “No.” His outraged tone of voice raised more than he’d intended. Why must she be so vexing?

  She softened her voice. “Thank you. And thank you for dinner. And for dancing. Good night.”

  She turned to leave. After a few steps, she stopped and returned to him. Looking steadily at him, Susanna removed his coat and held it out to him. She waited until he gave the jarvey the order to proceed before she started walking again.

  He watched her through the back window as they drove away. She stood alone for a long moment, her small form shrinking. She finally started walking, but then took a sudden turn and dashed to an alley. Her furtive movements raised his suspicions.

  He stuck his head out and addressed the jarvey. “Stop. Wait here.”

  The jarvey no doubt thought he was mad, but complied. Kit got out. Stepping softly, he followed in the direction he’d seen her take. There, her thin form still moved. Sticking to the shadows, he tailed her, fog billowing with each step. Next to a stack of wooden boxes, she stopped. Kit flattened himself against the wall and held his breath. She looked around, then slid down to the ground and tucked her feet under her. Hugging herself, she crouched, her breath ragged in the night. Nearby a cat crept out and slunk along the alley. Male voices, low and rough, murmured. Someone laughed. A baby cried and hushed. The truth of her situation slapped him in the face. He’d suspected she had gone hungry, but never imagined she had nowhere safe to sleep. The idea twisted in his gut. No one should be so desperate.

  “This is why?” he said.

  She shrieked and stood.

  He stepped out of the shadows so she could see him.

  She let out a combined gasp and sigh. “Kit?”

  “How long have you been sleeping in the alleys?” he demanded.

  With a sob, she put her hands over her face. “I’m so humiliated.”

  He approached and asked gently. “There is no reason for embarrassment. I’m merely…surprised.”

  Without removing her hand, she sighed, sad and resigned. “The theatre manager refused to give me an advance except for the farthing I used to buy my bread this morning. None of the respectable boarding houses I tried would take me without a letter of introduction or a week’s payment in advance.”

  Aghast, he stared, still grappling with her reality. Then finally, he managed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was too ashamed to tell anyone.” She stood hugging her portmanteau, her shoulders slumped.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t get robbed, or…worse.”

  “I don’t have much choice. I’d hoped to remain behind and sleep in the theatre tonight but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a meal.”

  He took a step closer. “Now that you’re finally being honest with me, how long since you have eaten?”

  “I have been honest with you. I just didn’t volunteer certain information.”

  “How long, Susanna?”

  She chewed her lower lip. “I had a plain bun this morning.”

  “And before that?”

  She paused. “I had a bit of bread pudding two days ago.”

  His stomach clenched. “And before that?”

  She huffed. “Why does that matter? As soon as I start earning money, I can eat a proper meal every day.”

  “It matters because you look as if you haven’t eaten a proper meal in weeks—or longer.”

  She said nothing.

  Kit paced. He couldn’t leave her here like this. There were a few reputable boarding houses but they wouldn’t take her in the middle of the night even if he offered them a great deal of money. His mother would probably take her in, but she’d misunderstand his intentions toward the girl. And his father would be an overbearing snob to her. His sister? Now that was a possibility. She and her husband would be gracious about giving Susanna a place to sleep until Kit could find more permanent lodgings for her. Of course, if he took Susanna there, she’d eventually figure out who he was. However, no better solution presented itself.

  He held out a hand. “My sister lives nearby. She would be happy to let you stay with her until other arrangements can be made.” He smiled. “She’ll probably invite you to stay for the whole Season.”

  Susanna shook her head. “I cannot impose.”

  “Trust me, she will love it. Esther will make you feel welcome. She loves to feel needed and is always going about throwing herself into one cause after another.” As a child, she often brought home stray kittens and fallen birds and injured rabbits.

  “I am not someone’s cause. I’m tired of being a pawn to forward the interests of others.”

  He almost cursed out loud. “I didn’t mean you were a cause. I only mean that she’d love to help you.”

  “I don’t want her charity,” she said flatly. “I’m sick to death of relying on someone’s charity.”

  “Your aunt’s so-called charity, for example?”

  After a moment’s silence, she said in a hushed voice, “She was always going on about how ungrateful I was and that only her charity kept her from throwing me out to find my own way.”

  The idea of such a dragon raising this sweet little thing made Kit grind his teeth. “My sister isn’t like that. She’ll love you.” He wiggled the hand he held out to her. “Please come. If you don’t, I’ll be obliged to stay out here all night to watch over you. And what about that man determined to drag you back to your aunt?”

  Her posture changed at that reminder. “We can’t show up to your sister’s house now—as you said, it’s two o’clock in the morning.”

  “She should be arriving home from her ball or soiree right about now; she’s not one to dance until dawn.”

  Silently, Susanna studied her feet and then looked up as if the night sky held answers she sought. Still holding his hand out, he took several steps closer to her. At his approach, she looked directly into his eyes. In the pale light of the moon slipping in and out of clouds, the sharp planes of her cheekbones as well as the hollows under her eyes softened. Her eyes appeared overly large and mysterious and somehow timeless, as if she were some mystical being who’d taken on the appearance of a young lady. This was no waif; she was a strong, determined woman who faced her challenges with courage and grace. He doubted many young ladies of the ton were in possession of her depth of character and resiliency.

  He could fall in love with such a lady.

  He wiggled his fingers. “You will like Esther. She’s very kind. If her own brother can say such a thing, it must be true, right?” He grinned.

  A hint of a smile passed
over her. Still, she made no move to take his hand. Instead, she continued staring warily at him.

  He tried again. Gentler now, he said, “It would only be until you can find a place of your own.”

  Her posture wilted as the fight drained out of her. “Very well.” She placed her hand in his.

  As he wrapped his fingers around her small hand, a surge of protectiveness overcame him. Why he felt so compelled to help this near-stranger, he could not explain. Perhaps it was her desire to be independent that awakened a kinship in him, since he’d left his home with the same goal. A man trying to make it alone in the world was much less vulnerable than a young woman who attempted such a thing.

  He almost smiled at the lie he tried to tell himself. He wanted to help her because he had grown to care about her—much more than he thought possible in such a short amount of time. She was fiercely independent and courageous, despite her desperate need, and made the best of her circumstances. He smiled as he recalled the way she’d shown up at the theatre, insisting she deserved a chance. Yet the vulnerability in her eyes tugged at his heart. Yes, he was, indeed, growing to care very much about Susanna Dyer.

  They walked hand-in-hand like children down the middle of the streets, their steps falling in sync. Her small hand in his felt so very right, as if it had been designed for his and he’d only now discovered he’d been missing a part all this time.

  Fog swirled at their feet, and a bell clanged off in the distance. Two young men staggered past them, arms linked and singing a bawdy song. Kit kept hold of her hand, tuned in to even the sound of her breathing.

  “Is it far?” she asked.

  “No. Just a few blocks over.”

  Quietly she asked, “Why are you helping me, Kit?”

  He grappled for an answer that would not make him sound mad or raise her expectations until he could determine, what exactly, his intentions were toward her. “Because my mother raised me as a gentleman.”

  She smiled, clearly not quite believing his words. “Surely there is more to it than that.”