Eric acted as his Guardian? And how betrayed had he felt when the very servants slipped away afterward? He must have wondered what it was he had done to make them all despise him so much that they wouldn’t remain even to take advantage of him.
“My father loved this piece,” he said, very quietly, so as not to disrupt the music. She turned from watching the harp strings vibrating to look at him. He smiled wryly. “I know, from what you’ve heard about him, you probably wouldn’t think of him as a music lover, but he was. It was one of the rare things we shared. He went to many concerts when we were in the city, though that was rarely — he hated Court. He had musicians come out here, and had several of the servants who expressed an interest trained to play, as well. It was a welcome duty for them, since it meant lighter duties elsewhere. He had very old-fashioned tastes, and this was one of his favorite pieces. I — I honestly never thought I’d hear it again.”
Greatly moved by this, she impulsively put her hand atop his, shivering a little at her own daring, and at the odd thrill the touch of his hand gave her. He went very still for just a moment, and she wondered if she had transgressed —
But then he turned his hand upward, and clasped hers.
Nothing more than that, but she thought nothing had ever felt so right, so comfortable and comforting, as his hand holding hers. He closed his eyes again, and she went back to watching the musical instruments seem to play themselves, but something had changed between them. There was a bond — perhaps it had been there for some time, but now they had acknowledged it.
She frowned a little, then, and attuned her mind to search for the pressure of The Tradition. Because if that was what was responsible —
Well, there was pressure, all right, but it was not trying to shove her at Sebastian. It definitely stirred and took interest when she thought — tentatively — about how handsome Eric was when he smiled. But when she thought tenderly about Sebastian’s funny little habit of pushing his glasses up on his nose and tilting his head to the side when she puzzled him, it withdrew, as if offended.
Ha. Thus reassured, she went back to enjoying the music and the warmth of Sebastian’s hand clasping hers.
Finally, there came a pause, which made him open his eyes again, and then the harp tentatively played a few notes of what she recognized as a familiar old lullaby.
Sebastian laughed. “All right, my friends, let this be your last piece.” He let go of her hand, and clasped both of his on his knee. “It’s become a custom among musicians playing a concert that when they are tired and want to stop, they play a lullaby as a gentle hint. Of course, not every host is willing to take that hint, and rather too often he ignores the first lullaby, and the second, and only yields at the third. I, however, am not that mean- spirited.”
She smiled and nodded, and the rest of the players took up the melody that the harp had begun, playing it three times, slower each time, until the last tender notes fell softly into the air and ended in stillness.
And so, after a long moment, the instruments rose into the air and were carried out, leaving the two of them alone.
Sebastian rose to his feet, and held out his hand to help her up. “That was the best gift that anyone has given me in a very, very long time. And the crowning gift of a day full of them,” he said, still holding her hand, and looking down into her eyes. “I really do not have the words to thank you. You’ve done all these wonderful things for me, and all I have done for you was to lacerate your foot.”
The last surprised a laugh out of her. He grinned back. But he still didn’t let go of her hand.
“It wasn’t the laceration I minded so much,” she said lightly. “It was the thought of Genevieve in charge of the household. But strangely enough, that seems to be working itself out.”
“Perhaps because, without the stepdaughter there, The Tradition is allowing her to be herself, and not what it wants her to be,” he replied, startling her with the same insight that she had had. “I wonder what would happen if the stepdaughter never went back — or at least, not as the rival in the household.”
She caught her breath. “You cannot possibly be saying that you want me to stay!”
“Is that so revolting to you?” He still didn’t let go of her hand, but he looked stricken. “I know I might never be rid of this curse — ”
“Oh, that’s nothing!” she exclaimed.
“Well, then, would you consider it? Would you allow me to speak to your father, once the King allows me to?” His gaze begged her. “I know you are my friend — and I have not had a real friend but Eric in a very, very long time — but would you ever consider wedding me? I know this is very sudden. Perhaps this offends you, but I hope not, and I am afraid that once you can leave here, your father may decide the only way to make sure you are safe is to arrange a marriage for you, with someone you don’t even know. At least you know me, and you like me. Many good marriages are made in friendship. I don’t ask you to love me, but — I don’t think I can do without you, now that I know you.”
She found herself stammering. “I…I suppose so…if the King allows it…if my father…”
“That’s all I ask.” He kissed her hand before releasing it. “You deserve to be more than anyone has allowed you to be until now. That may be the only gift I can give you that will equal a part of what you can give me. If you stay with your father, you won’t really have that. If another marriage is arranged, I think you would have less than you have with your father. In my house, you will have freedom.”
She hardly knew how she got back to her rooms after they parted. She felt very much in a daze, not exactly sure how she felt about him. That she liked him immensely — oh, yes. Absolutely. But love? Not so sure of that…
Not sure at all.
He was right, though, in that the longer she stayed in her father’s house, the more she would become the unregarded old maid, the glorified — and unpaid! — housekeeper. And the more Genevieve would fester, pushed by The Tradition into an equally unhappy role. Her only escape would be that one she had wistfully contemplated, the little herbalist shop, perhaps to grow into a Granny…
