Her eyes narrowed as though she thought I planned to undermine her. I responded with a genuine smile. Still looking distrustful, she sat at the piano.
She had improved since I had last heard her. Her fingers stumbled over a few notes, but she hid her mistakes well by singing over them. It was a decent performance, one that demanded praise.
Lord Williams stood next to her the entire time, his attention never wavering.
He was wearing the blue coat he had worn the previous evening; it accented his eyes wonderfully. Catherine’s gaze lingered when she looked up at him, and I wondered if she could fathom the strong shoulders and arms his coat concealed or if she would appreciate his even temper and thoughtfulness if she knew of them.
Of course she would. Any woman would. And given that he had not displayed the least inclination to bolt while she sang or even frowned in her direction, she might not understand the humiliation he was capable of inflicting.
“You seem somewhat excited, Miss Brinton,” James said, interrupting my musings. “Is everything all right?”
I glanced at him, startled. “You are mistaken. I am perfectly at ease.”
James tilted his head to the side. “Hm. Either you have acquired a rather nervous habit of twisting your hands since we were last together or your fingers are very anxious for their chance at the piano.”
Lord Williams glanced over at us. I stilled my hands. “Neither, I think.”
“Do you really intend not to perform at your own gathering?” James asked.
Daniel leaned in front of me. “You’ll have to excuse her, James. She had a rather traumatic experience last week and is too timid to play before the present company.”
“I am not timid,” I said.
“Of course not.” Daniel straightened with a smirk.
“I’m not,” I repeated.
Lord Williams and Catherine moved to the book of music and began discussing various pieces. Frustration welled within me. Though I had invited Catherine as a diversion for Lord Williams, I had not expected him to take to her quite so quickly. Or so completely.
Alice walked up and stood next to me. “Aren’t you going to play something?”
I glanced to where my mother and father and Dr. and Mrs. Johnson sat comfortably on the settees, Mrs. Johnson beaming at Catherine, Dr. Johnson in low conversation with my father.
My mother nodded at me, urging me to perform. Perhaps she had sent Alice over.
“Are you going to play or not?” Daniel asked. “If you aren’t, perhaps we should bring out the cards.”
“If you would sing, I would consider it a privilege to accompany you,” James offered.
I shook my head. “Thank you, but no.”
“Well, you have to do something,” Daniel said. “You arranged for this party, after all.” He cleared his throat. “My dear sister Margaret has decided to honor us with her playing.”
James flashed me a sympathetic look.
Perhaps it was best to get it over with. If I played, Daniel’s game of constantly volunteering me to perform would end.
Catherine moved to her brother’s side and whispered in his ear while I shuffled across the room. To both my annoyance and satisfaction, Lord Williams remained near the piano.
“What will you play?” he asked.
His question brought me up short. I didn’t know what to play. “Perhaps you should suggest something so I can avoid the reaction I received the last time I attempted to entertain you with music.”
“We both know it was not me you were attempting to entertain. But I promise to remain in this spot throughout the duration of your performance.”
“How kind of you.” I couldn’t determine if I found his nearness vexing or calming.
This was all Daniel’s fault. And then I smiled. I knew exactly what to play.
I played Daniel’s least favorite song, a plaintive air that he’d insisted I’d played too much after Edward. Daniel’s groan of objection was satisfying, but I hadn’t counted on the music dredging up the old pain, the memory of how at one time I had been blissfully in love.
Would I never be free of the dishonesty?
Lord Williams was true to his word. He didn’t move throughout the song. When I finished, I was embarrassed to find him watching me closely. I stood, hoping he hadn’t seen what I’d felt.
“Ugh, Margaret,” Daniel said. “If I’d known you were going to play that I would have insisted on cards. Play something else. Something less doom and gloom.”
“Will you play something else?” Lord Williams asked more quietly.
I shook my head. “I believe hearing me play once is more than enough entertainment.”
“Not for me.”
I couldn’t tell from his expression if he’d truly appreciated my playing or if he was merely trying to make up for the rudeness of last time. I hoped it was the first.
No. That wasn’t right.
“Margaret,” Daniel said, “if you’re unwilling, perhaps Miss Johnson will delight us with another.”
Catherine’s gaze settled on Lord Williams and something in my chest tightened. I needed to be alone a moment to smother my emotions and gather my wits.
I retreated to the stack of music.
Lord Williams joined me. “Do you have a song in mind?”
Why had he followed me? “No.” I flicked through the pages, barely glancing at the songs. I should just let Catherine play. That’s what she was here for.
Lord Williams’s hand suddenly settled on mine. Startled, I looked up, but he was focused on the paper before us.
“Would you play this?”
It was the song from the Hickmores’, the sonata he had walked out on. I slid my hand, which had been growing pleasantly warm under his touch, from under his and hid it in my skirt. “You’ve already heard it.”
“I’d like to hear it again. All of it.”
“I don’t think—”
“Please.”
His tone, so earnest, stopped my immediate refusal.
“Excuse me, my lord,” one of the servants interrupted. “This just arrived.” He held out a letter.
Lord Williams took it. “Thank you.” He read the inscription. “Pardon me, Miss Brinton, but—
“Not at all. Do not delay reading your letter on my account.”
“Thank you.” He moved a step away and broke the seal. A smaller folded paper slipped from the letter. Lord Williams caught it and frowned as he read whatever was scribbled on its front before turning his attention to the main letter’s content.
I glanced around the room. Daniel and James chuckled at something while Catherine stood mutely next to them, her focus set on Lord Williams, no doubt as curious about the contents of the letter as I was. Or perhaps she was curious about the man as well. Alice had returned to her seat near our mother, who narrowed her eyes at me and nodded at the music. Pretending not to notice how she wished me to play another song, I turned back to the music and feigned interest in it.
Lord Williams balled the letter in his hand, his jaw muscle popping.
It was such an astonishing display of discomposure I stepped toward him. “I hope you have not received something upsetting.”
“It is from my cousin.”
“Mr. Northam?”