“What did he say?” Portia called out. “We couldn’t hear it.”
“You’ll hear it when she plays it,” Dorcas admonished her sister.
John stepped aside, and Allegra let her fingers fly.
Pining. She was rapidly learning a thing or two about that emotion. The keys he’d chosen were perfect to set off a round of stumbling and bumbling and wanting and needing and backing away only to charge forward again with hope and joy and, no, more waiting, more infernal waiting, and wanting, and watching, and praying. Pining.
The last note hung in the music room as though suspended from a taut wire before fading back into the shadows.
Portia clapped her hands. “Was it ‘unrequited love’? It felt like unrequited love.”
“It was desire,” Dorcas said with confidence. “Desire that could absolutely be requited if the person doing the desiring wasn’t terrified of their dream becoming reality.”
John’s eyes met Allegra’s. “That is indeed what it feels like.”
His voice was too low for her cousins to hear, but still managed to slip beneath her bodice and wrap around her jittering heart.
“My turn!” Portia bounded over and pressed two keys. “Do…jealousy!”
Allegra tore her gaze from John’s and focused on the game, playing melody after melody, matching each mood upon request.
She and her cousins spent many a rainy afternoon engaged in just this manner back home in the Cotswolds. Just the three of them and a piano. They had never before shared this game with anyone else. Uncle would be appalled, and balls had strict expectations of what sort of musical accompaniment was to be provided.
If the day ever came that they were to be caught in the act of playing such a silly game, Allegra had expected to be… well, not embarrassed, exactly. She was proud of her music. It need not be classical or even danceable to have value in its own right. But she did not expect anyone else to understand, much less revel in it the way her cousins did.
John was turning her world upside down.
The problem was abundantly clear: She liked him. Even if he was only pretending to like her back—playing the smitten swain, just as they’d agreed he would do—he acted the part so well that when they parted ways, she would not need to feign a sense of loss at his departure.
She would turn it into music, of course, as she always did. She didn’t need people when she had a piano, and she had no interest in acquiring a new man to be master over her life. But for as long as the fake courtship lasted…she would allow herself to enjoy the charade.
“This way,” came a harried voice from the hallway. “The music room is right—oh! Do we have the wrong time?”
At the sight of a young governess with two small charges, Allegra leapt up from the bench at once. “Not at all. We were just leaving. Please come in, the room is yours.”
Portia and Dorcas stepped out of the way as well. They exchanged amused looks at the sight of two little girls wearing pinafores and eager smiles, trailing their governess to the pianoforte.
Nostalgia twisted in Allegra’s chest. That had been them, once. Well, it still was, obviously, here they were in a music room. But many years had passed since her wonderful cousins were waist-high. Soon, they would be married with children of their own. Who knew where in England they might reside, or how often Allegra would be able to see them.
She would have to pour that loss into her music, too.
When they stepped out into the corridor, John lifted his eyebrows at the ladies. “I was considering a walk along the beach. Would you care to join me?”
“Oh, of course you miss the ocean,” Portia said in sympathy. “You poor dear. It must be dreadful to spend so much time on dry land.”
Only Allegra’s cousins would deem a bloodthirsty pirate a poor dear.
“He’ll have to spend some time on land,” said Dorcas with obvious concern. “You promised you wouldn’t spirit Allegra away to the high seas for a decade at a time.”
“I will keep that promise,” John assured her.
“Then go on.” Portia made shooing motions at John and Allegra. “Take her to the edge of the sea to promenade all day…and all night…” This word was delivered with an utterly unsubtle wink. “Dorcas and I can mind ourselves.”
“We won’t get into any trouble,” Dorcas agreed. “And if we do, we’ll run villains through with our rapiers and escape unscathed.”
“You don’t own any rapiers,” Allegra reminded her.
“We’ll improvise,” Dorcas promised. “Portia and I were raised on the adventures of Captain L’Amour. It’s as if he personally trained us as first mates.”
Dear God. Allegra sent an apologetic look toward John.
He smiled and held out his elbow. “It sounds like they have matters under control. Shall we?”
“No plunder and no pillaging,” she told her cousins firmly.
Portia and Dorcas nodded in unison, their angelic faces the perfect picture of wide-eyed innocence.
Allegra curved her hand about John’s arm. “In that case, I’m yours for the next hour.”
“Only an hour?” he asked as he led her out of the Old Ship Inn.
“Regardless of my cousins’ comportment, my uncle rises around noon, and would not be pleased to discover me out pleasuring.”
Bright sunlight warmed their faces as they stepped outside. An invigorating breeze filled their lungs with fresh, sea-salt air.
John’s expression, however, was lined with confusion. “Why shouldn’t you enjoy the beach? Isn’t that why you came here on holiday?”
“Strictly speaking,” Allegra said as they strolled, “I am not currently on, nor have I ever had, a holiday. My cousins are meant to enjoy Brighton to the fullest, so long as we accomplish our assigned mission.”
“Sack the Old Ship Inn and take the master of ceremonies hostage in exchange for a chest of gold and twelve crates of rum?”
“Close. Something a little more life-or-death. I must secure uncle-approved love matches for both young ladies, with the betrothal contracts signed before my birthday.”
“How splendid that your uncle wants his daughters to make love matches!”
“I added that part,” Allegra admitted. “He wants them to marry well, which is something we all desire. I just have a slightly different definition of what ‘well’ means.”
“Heart over money?”
“I wish I were so noble. The truth is, station must necessarily be a factor. I do not want Portia and Dorcas to struggle to put bread on the table or not be able to afford their lodgings. But why shouldn’t they have it all? A comfortable situation with a person who loves them?”
“I don’t think wanting it all is ignoble. Or if it is, I’m guilty of the same. I do not need to become a professional chef with my own tea room, but it is what I want, because it has been a lifelong dream. Much as I presume finding a love match has been for your cousins. I can find no fault in possessing the courage to pursue happiness.”
“Thank you. We are of the same mind. My lifelong dream has been to secure lodging of my own with a pianoforte all my own, and the freedom to do with both whatever I please. It may not sound as grand an adventure as sacking ships on the high seas, but for me it will be enough.”