I squeezed her hands in reassurance. "They are happy. It's quite amazing just how content Ella is in her new life."
Georgiana looked as though I'd given her the greatest gift by assuring her of Ella's happiness. It lightened my heart, thinking that Ella and her love story were capable of causing such joy in a complete stranger.
I squeezed her hands again, this time in gratitude. "Thank you for reminding me of her. Her story does give a bit of hope, doesn't it?"
"Yes, it's lovely, and I'm so happy to know that it's true. James dear, we've been ignoring you. This is your special evening; what shall we do next?"
I enjoyed the look of embarrassment on James's face as we both turned our attention on him. It was clear that James was no match for the energy and charisma of his mother.
"Didn't you promise this young lady a musicale?" Georgiana asked.
"Yes, I did include that in the invitation, as per your request."
"Good, then why don't you play for us?"
I raised an eyebrow at James. "You play?"
He simply nodded.
"What instrument?"
"The viol."
"Oh, please play. I have not heard a stringed instrument since I left my parents' home."
He stood to retrieve his instrument, but not before I caught the tint of red staining his cheeks. No wonder his mother had had to trick him into playing.
Georgiana leaned over, whispering, "You'll enjoy this."
James pulled a straight-backed chair over and sat on it, placing the viol between his knees and positioning the bow in his hand, with his palm facing up. He glanced up. "I am not proficient, so please forgive my clumsiness." Bending his head, he drew the bow across the viol, coaxing muted tones from the six strings.
I closed my eyes, allowing the music to seep into my skin and saturate my breath. When the tune became familiar, my eyes drifted open. It was the same tune that James had hummed, and which we had danced to in the desolate front parlor at Bridgefield. My mind tumbled back to those moments, remembering the dip and sway as we had glided across the floor.
James raised his eyes and locked them with mine, telling me with just a look that he had chosen this song on purpose, that he was trying to speak to me through the sweet strains of music. And my heart answered without hesitation or thought. As the notes swirled between us, I saw that his chest rose and fell in time with mine, breathing in unison. Warmth rushed up my spine and across my shoulders, as I felt the music build inside me, filling my chest before cascading into my stomach. James's eyes never left mine, his gaze inviting me to share in the feelings that his music evoked.
He pulled the last several notes from the strings and let them sit, undisturbed in the air. We didn't move, but let the silence dilute the tension for a few moments.
"Well," Georgiana breathed.
I looked over to see that she clutched a fan and was using it liberally. "I believe I'll check on dinner." She stood and swept from the room.
Thankfully she left the door open. With her absence I felt the need for a fan of my own. My hair was pulled up into a chignon, restricting access to my hair, so I twisted the corner of my veil instead, staring resolutely at the door, and not at James as I asked my heart to please quiet down.
His chair creaked when he moved and I felt him kneel in front of me. He pulled the veil from my hands. "I doubt you want to ruin that."
I finally looked at him. His eyes were softer, far less intense than before. "I enjoyed your playing." My voice sounded unusually high.
"Thank you." He pushed himself to his feet and took the chair opposite. "What do you think of my mother?"
"I quite adore her," I proclaimed without hesitation. "She makes me smile."
"Much like you make me smile. You two have that in common"
I looked away. "Thank you." Did I really make him smile? I had a hard time believing that, but I hoped it was true.
Georgiana bustled back in. "Dinner should be served at 6:45, just as I asked."
"Then why did you go check to see if it was finished nearly twenty minutes before the appointed time?" James asked, though I imagined he knew the reason just as well as I.
"Oh, it just slipped my mind, I suppose." She sat and turned her attention to me. "Marilee, do you play any instruments?"
"I'm afraid not."
"That's a shame. Do you sing?"
"Well...I—"
"Oh, you do sing!" She clasped her hands together in delight. "Oh lovely, you must sing for us."
"Mother, she may not wish to sing."
"But we are calling this evening a musicale, and you can't have a musicale with only one person being musical." She turned back to me. "Oh, do oblige us, dear. It needn't be anything fancy, just a sweet little tune would do very well."
"Um..." I searched my mind, not only for an appropriate song, but for the courage to get up and sing for someone. The last time I had done so was in the first few weeks of my marriage. Damian had chided me for showing off and asked that I keep my parlor tricks to myself. "It's been a long time since I sang anything. I am probably rusty."
"Oh, we do not mind. I promise you, we are not in the least critical."
I looked to James, wondering if he would push me as well. "You needn't sing if it makes you uncomfortable."
His words decided it for me. I stood and crossed to the fireplace, unclasping my hands and dropping them to my sides. "It's only a silly song, but it always made me smile."
Georgiana sat up a little taller, her hands clasped and resting on her knees. James was trying to appear as if his interest was only polite, but I could sense an anticipation from him. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I launched into the quick, lilting tune.
A pretty little lass
With beads in her hair
With golden skin
And beauty fair,
She went to sing
For the mighty king,
And went away
With a golden ring.
Now the lass was sad,
For this ring of gold
Stole her heart away
And to a prince was sold,
But before that prince
To the lass was wed,
A titled lady came
And turned his head.
So the lass was free
And she cried, hooray!
To her barn she ran
And filled her arms with hay.
A vow to never leave
Was her solemn quote,
For her one true love
Was a billy goat.
Georgiana burst into giggles and though James tried mightily, he couldn't stifle his laughter.
"No, this is very serious and you must let me finish," I scolded and cleared my throat.
Now this goat and lass
Were a comely pair—
I broke off, unable to keep my laughter under control, not with James looking at me as he was. His face was bright red, his eyes wide and his lips pressed firm to prevent his laughter. So I happily gave up and returned to sit by Georgiana.
"I can't say I've ever heard the like," James commented between spurts of laughter. "Wherever did you learn such a ditty?"
"I made it up."
"Did you now?" His lips twitched. "I'll have to have you sing it again for me."
"I promise it's not nearly as amusing the second time."
"I'll have to be the judge of that."
We settled into easy conversation until dinner was announced. Georgiana snapped her fan open and became very serious, rising with regal movement. She whispered over her shoulder, "This is one more of the social niceties we must observe," before preceding us in her exit, leaving James to link my arm with his.
I loved that the proper etiquette of the evening had been turned into a game of acting. I was happy to play along, though James's face when he stiffened his shoulders and fisted one hand behind his back nearly destroyed my concentration. We all did very well gliding down the hall and entering
the dining room. We each stood in front of our chairs, and the footmen all pushed them beneath us at the same time.
The food was delicious, and we all took great care to hold our utensils the correct way. I even went so far as to instruct James on the correct way to handle a goblet, holding it with the thumb, pointer and middle finger, while allowing the ring and pinkie fingers to curve elegantly outward.
He imitated my hold. "Will that suffice, Princess?"
"Yes, that's very well done. Though I may have just invented that rule." I raised my own glass to my lips, my eyes wide and innocent.
James pretended to glare at me, but did a terrible job of it.
When dessert was set in front of us, I was just picking up my fork when James reached over and dabbed a bit of cream onto my nose. I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Princess Marilee, I do believe you have a bit of something on your nose."
Georgiana covered her laugh with a cough.
"Let me help you," James offered, raising his napkin and dabbing my nose. "By the way." His face was very close. "You are very fetching when you are angry."
I raised my brow in challenge. "You've never seen me angry."
He gave me a look that told me he disagreed and I remembered the incident with Mrs. Braithwhite.
I dropped my eyes. "You've never seen me angry at you."
"That is true. I'll try to keep it that way."
"Arguing like an old married couple," Georgiana said under her breath, then swept a bite into her mouth.
We both pretended not to have heard her.
***
When the time came for me to depart, I was reluctant. Returning to my home, full of haunting memories and Edmund, held no appeal. I wanted to stay at Sutton manor, claim James and his mother as my family. I shook my head to dislodge the thought. I would be content with friendship.
Georgiana kissed both of my cheeks in farewell. "You are simply the loveliest creature. I do hope you will come again while I am visiting. It's been such a pleasure to have someone to indulge in a little silliness with me."
"Thank you for the invitation. It's been a lovely night. And I will try to come again."
"Good night, dear." She turned to James. "Be sure to observe all the social niceties, son." She disappeared up the stairs.
James led me outside. "I have something for you."
My carriage sat in the drive, ready and waiting for me, and attached to the back was a lead rope that hooked to Angel's bridle.
"I noticed that your stables are fully staffed now. While I'm happy to keep Angel on if you'd like me to, I thought you'd probably like to take her home with you."
I nodded and swallowed around the ache in my throat. "I would. Thank you, James."
"She's yours, and you're most welcome." He kissed my hand and led me to the carriage, shutting the door after I'd climbed in and pulled my skirts out of the way.
I put my hands on the window opening and leaned toward him. "This is the most wonderful evening I've had since...a long time. It really was. You were so gracious, and your mother was so kind."
He ran the tip of his finger along my knuckles. "I like to make you smile. Be safe." He stepped back and the carriage lurched forward. I kept my eyes on him until the trees got in the way.
Chapter Eighteen
I SETTLED INTO my sitting room the next morning, content with the mindless task of embroidery. The sun poured through the windows, making it easy to see the details of my work. Rogue basked in the sunlight, sprawled on the ground. I was humming to myself—the same tune that James had played—and reliving his performance again and again. The way he breathed life and emotion into the notes.
My reverie was shattered by Edmund's voice. "I've noticed you do not appear to be in mourning." He stood just inside the doors, and my mood dampened as I wondered how long he had been there. His unannounced appearances were becoming more frequent, and I was losing patience.
"Was there a question you wanted to ask?"
"I suppose my question is whether your lack of mourning attire is because you do not own anything in dark colors—and by the by, I quite enjoy your brightly colored gowns—or a refusal to mourn?"
My needle stilled. It was his tone of voice that made me freeze up. It was the same overly pleasant, not quite casual tone that Damian had used when he was on the verge of going into a rage. But this was not Damian. Edmund had never demonstrated a tendency toward violence, and I knew that two of my guards were just outside the door. I unlocked my joints and looked at him, letting the needlework fall to my lap. "Did you know that in Dalthia, we do not observe a specific mourning period?"
"I did not." He walked toward me.
"Dark colors are often worn by those in mourning, but there is no certain time frame that is expected. Many feel that their loved one's memory is best respected by living their life to the fullest."
"Were you, then, unaware of our customs?" He sat next to me, his arm resting along the back of his seat, his body turned to face me.
"I was aware." I swallowed, nervous but determined to be honest. "But I felt it would be dishonest to put on mourning attire in the same way that I felt it would be dishonest to attend your brother's funeral. I have no wish to go about the countryside and proclaim all of his bad deeds, but I also have no wish to perpetuate the appearance of a widow who is emotionally crippled by the death of her husband."
"So then you feel no need to observe the usual mourning period?"
My neck grew hot, wondering at this line of questioning. Was this about James? Perhaps he was trying to figure out if I was encouraging James's interest in me. I didn't think he knew of my going to Sutton manor last evening, but he certainly could have found out. I clasped my hands in my lap, trying to prevent their trembling. "Is that offensive to you?"
"It's not that. Although we do observe a mourning of about three months in Winberg, I can understand your reluctance, not only because my brother gave you no reason to mourn, but also because that is not your tradition."
"I certainly have no wish to offend, but immediately after your brother's death, I found that I simply could not abide the idea of bowing to everyone's expectations. I had to follow my own way, make my own rules, as it were. Perhaps that was inappropriate. I don't know. But it was the only way I could think to deal with the situation."
He studied me, his eyebrows pulled together in concern. "My brother caused you a great amount of pain, didn't he?"
I picked up my needle work, though my hand shook, and it took me three attempts before I punctured the fabric in the right place. I had no words to respond to that query. There was too much to say, and not enough composure in me to be able to say it.
"Forgive me. The last thing I want is to cause you more pain."
I nodded, my head still bent over my work.
I hoped that he would leave, but he scooted closer. I tensed as he reached over and took the needlework from my hands, forcing me to acknowledge him.
Lifting my head, I found him much too close and shied away. His face was gentle, but his eyes were searching mine for...something.
"You don't need to fear me. I hope that you believe that."
I swallowed and managed a nod.
He fingered the lace that hung from my sleeve, his hand brushing the skin of my inner elbow, making my stomach tense. "I'm grateful you do not feel a need to observe a mourning period." He moved almost imperceptibly closer and a voice in my head shrieked in warning. "You are not what I expected to find when I came here to help my brother's wife."
I turned my face away. "What did you expect?"
"Someone with far less courage." He ran his fingers down my forearm, then picked up my hand and brought it to his lips. "You are an impressive woman, Princess Marilee."
I forced a small smile and pulled my hand from his grip. "Thank you," I said before retrieving my needlepoint.
"I'm sorry if my honesty embarrasses you. I'll leave you to your work." He stood and made his exit.
; I inhaled, feeling as if I'd forgotten to breathe for the last several minutes. I tried to convince myself that I was misinterpreting his words and actions, but I couldn't twist our encounter into anything other than a blatant expression of his interest in me. I put a hand to my forehead, trying to sort out what this would all mean tomorrow and the next day. A part of me wished that I could return the sentiment: marry the brother of my husband and forget about managing my own affairs. However, I recoiled at the idea. Edmund may not be a terrible person, but I knew that he was not for me. I needed to be sure not to encourage him in any romantic thoughts, and so would need to devise ways to avoid him in the future.
***
The next day, a footman informed me of the arrival of Mrs. Georgiana Sutton. I hurried down to the drawing room and found her wearing the loveliest dark green riding habit, her hat perched atop her coifed hair, a riding crop in hand.
"Georgiana, what a pleasure."
We kissed each other's cheeks and then she pulled back. "Would you humor an old woman and go for a ride with me?"
"I'd be happy to ride, but I haven't the faintest idea what old woman I would be humoring."
She laughed, as I knew she would. "Well then, perhaps you will humor me."
"It would be my pleasure. Would you mind waiting here?"
"Of course not, dear. Go on, get changed." She shooed me toward the door.
I returned as quickly as I could manage, excited at the prospect of getting out of the house, especially with James's lovely mother. As I approached the door, I was surprised to hear Georgiana's voice.
"I know the two of you had a falling out, but must you make a feud out of it?"
Edmund's laugh sounded more like a bark and held no humor. "There is no feud, Mrs. Sutton. I simply want to ensure that James and I understand one another."
Saving Marilee Page 18
