Probably the composer’s soul.
Her lips twitched upward at her own self-deprecating joke. Gallows humor at its finest because her failure to master an instrument could very well mean the death of her future.
She scowled down at her fingers at that thought.
Surely not. Of course her aunt said as much, but her aunt was nothing if not extreme. If Prudence had failed to master embroidery then she supposed embellished handkerchiefs would be the defining factor in Mr. Benedict’s quest for a wife.
No, her aunt expected perfection—she demanded it. And Prudence had always done her best to deliver, but in this regard…
She sighed as her hands rested on the keys, making a discordant sound that was somehow superior to her entire performance. “I suppose you’re right. I am hopeless.”
“Who said that?” The anger in his voice had her looking up. He crossed his arms again. “Who on earth told you that you were hopeless?”
“Well, you said that I had—”
“You have problems, yes. Obviously.” He frowned and shook his head. “Really, Pru, were you always prone to such melodrama?”
She bit her lip as she studied him. “So you are not quitting then?”
His brows arched up high, his eyes widening in shock or horror, or perhaps both. “Quitting? Me? Never.” One corner of his mouth hitched up in a lopsided little smile that was at once familiar and utterly new.
Or at least, the sensation it brought about in her was entirely new.
“You have it all wrong, Pru. I’m not about to quit.” He headed toward the glass doors leading to the garden. “Not when I’ve only just begun.”
She hurried after him, glancing back anxiously at the still-open doors. It was one thing to be playing music alone with the door open and servants forever hurrying in and out to keep an eye on them. But now he was leading her away from the house, into the thicket of trees.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Away.”
“Away from what?” She quickened her steps to catch up to him. “Away from good sense, perhaps? It’s freezing out here.”
“Tomorrow I shall remember to bring you a cloak, but for today we don’t have much time and not a minute to waste.”
“For what?” Her breathing was growing ragged and she hated that he wasn’t even slightly out of breath when he smiled down at her.
“For the real learning to begin.”
His grin was utterly wicked as he strode ahead until they were out of sight of the main house.
“For the real learning to begin,” she muttered under her breath. How on earth did he manage to make that sound so ominous?
They reached a clearing and he stopped so suddenly she ran smack into his back. He whipped around and caught her as she stumbled back, keeping her from falling on her backside, not that one more humiliation mattered at this point.
The man she’d despised since she was a child was a firsthand witness to her worst failure...what was another fall at his feet?
Despair threatened and she swallowed it down with a frown. “What are you about, Damian?”
He smirked at her use of his given name. After countless prods and teasing she’d finally caved to the improper use of their given names and it seemed to bring him no end of joy.
He didn’t drop his grip from her arms, not even when she tugged. He made a tsking sound, that was part chiding, part soothing—the sort of sound she suspected he made when his horse was scared during a storm.
She frowned at the thought. “Why are you shushing me?”
“I merely want you to relax.” He tugged her closer, wrapping an arm about her waist.
She pulled her upper body away as far as his embrace would allow, her heart surging up into her throat at this intimate contact. He was so close his scent enveloped her and his body seemed to swallow her whole. “I would be far more relaxed if you were to release me,” she said as she pushed against his chest.
He narrowed his eyes. “Calm yourself, Pru, you have my word that I am not attempting to take liberties.”
“Then what are you—oh!” His free hand grabbed hers and held it up. And all at once they were waltzing.
Or he was attempting to, at least. He was moving in time to some tune she could not hear and she was stumbling along with him because...where else could she go?
Like a rag doll in his arms, she flailed wildly until he stopped with a sigh. “Listen, Pru. That is all you are required to do for this portion of your lesson.”
She stared up at him in the silence that was this thicket of trees. He had lost his mind. No doubt too many spirits over the years. Too much revelry had led this formerly sane yet wicked rogue to lose his sanity.
It was a shame, really. Particularly since he was holding her in his arms.
His eyes were lit with something she couldn’t explain. Fanaticism, perhaps, or maybe just passion. Whatever it was, it felt foreign to her. She’d never been one for passion, just logic.
“Are you listening, Pru?” he asked, his voice hushed. Reverent.
“Listening? To what?”
He started to move again, and this time she managed to keep pace, but just barely. “The music, Pru, listen for the music.”
She blinked dazedly. Music? Listening? What was he on about? He was teasing her. She ought to be angry.
She definitely should not feel like swooning again. She’d eaten breakfast this morning, there was absolutely no reason for her to feel dizzy.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered.
Her eyelids fluttered a few times but she fought the urge to obey his command. What was wrong with her?
“Just close them, Pru.” It was his little smile of understanding that convinced her to finally relent and shut her eyes.
His smile seemed to say ‘I know you think I’m a lunatic, but I promise I have my reasons.’
When she’d started to be able to read so much into
