I do not understand why I desired to do this again.” Alethea paced the antechamber that led off of Lady Whittlesby’s ballroom in her London townhouse. The music being played in the ballroom filled the antechamber, but Alethea could not enjoy it. Rather, the cats fighting in her stomach would not allow her to enjoy it. “My violin does not sound the same after the neck was replaced. And the tuning peg was loose this morning . . .”
“I checked it an hour ago, and it is in perfect condition,” Bayard said from his position by the open door. “You are missing Clare’s performance. There are several young men looking at her rapturously . . .”
“I can hear her, Raven, and Ian quite clearly. They are flawless.” Alethea made a swift turn and paced in the other direction. “I, on the other hand, am certain I shall play the wrong note the moment I draw my bow.”
Bayard watched her with sardonic amusement. “You are quite adorable when you are nervous.”
She shot him a glare but did not stop pacing. “You are exceedingly complimentary this evening, Lord Dommick.”
“You were perfect last week at Lady Jersey’s dinner party.”
“That was a performance in an informal setting in the drawing room after dinner. This is in front of . . .” She gulped. “. . . hundreds more people.”
“Pretend it is simply the two of us in the music room at Terralton.”
The memory made her stop her pacing to choke back a laugh, which had a slight note of hysteria. “The result of which scandalized Margaret, who still believes kissing is disgusting.”
Bayard gave a wicked grin. “Yes, she nearly regretted your aunt’s decision to make their home with us. Are you quite remembering to breathe, my dear?”
She had to concentrate to do so. “You should be very glad that this time, I am not in danger of fainting.”
He suddenly pulled her close to him, and she gave a squeak of surprise at his strong arms around her waist, pressing her to him.
“Well,” he said with a smile, “this seemed to work the last time.”
And then he kissed her.
[Fluffer Nutter]