“You do have a problem,” he said. “And your problem is with music. I’d say you view music like some extension of your aunt.
She wrinkled her nose.
“Think about it.” His voice was insistent and when he reached a hand out to cover her eyes she instinctively pulled back. But he went with her, covering her eyes with his hand. “Picture music.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Just do it, Pru.”
She sighed loudly, letting all the world know how silly this was, but she did it. She tried to imagine what music would look like as a person.
Her nose crinkled up again as the image came into focus. Oh dear. It did look startlingly similar to her great aunt.
He dropped his hand and when she opened her eyes he looked extraordinarily pleased with himself. “Well?”
She pursed her lips before giving in. “Fine. Music is a woman.”
“And?”
She rolled her eyes. “And she resembles my aunt.”
He nodded, flashing her that wicked lopsided grin that she knew for certain made young ladies of the ton swoon.
Not her, of course. Other ladies.
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You should think of music as a man.”
She blinked. “A gentleman?”
“A lover.”
Her gasp was so loud it startled the birds from the trees and she knew without a doubt that her aunt’s spy was watching her like a hawk. With that in mind she took a deep breath and fixed him with a glare. “You shouldn’t say such things.”
“Why not?” His tone was as smug as his smile. “It is the truth.” He moved, circling her until he was behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “If I recall, once upon a time you were well able to open your mouth and sing a melody. So what changed?”
Her brows went up. Honestly? What had changed? He knew very well what had changed. “It was no longer for fun. Learning to sing became a part of...lessons.”
Even she could hear the dread in her voice with that word. Lessons were the bane of her existence. Until Miss Grayson’s, that was, but there Miss Grayson had shown such leniency that her aunt wasn’t totally wrong.
Her instruction had been lacking when it came to music because Miss Grayson hadn’t had the heart to enforce it.
His hands on her shoulders were heavy. Warm. They were...calming. And also not at all calming. How he managed to put her muscles at ease while making her heart race was beyond her.
He shifted her slightly so the chaperone was out of her view, so all she could see was the thicket of trees before her and all she could hear was the sound of laughter and music and children shouting from the fair.
“The only way you can sing is if you relax,” he said. His hands moved on her shoulders, massaging the knots there as she tried valiantly not to worry about what the chaperone was thinking, what her aunt would say if she heard.
She jerked away from his touch so quickly she stumbled forward. “I, uh...I cannot relax.”
The minute the words were out, she knew how silly they sounded. His smile when she turned to face him was split between understanding and amusement. He glanced over toward the chaperone and turned back with a smile that made her feel like perhaps for once they were on the same side. That maybe they were in on the same joke.
“Perhaps it’s time to head back,” he said.
Was she imagining it or did he look as though he disliked the idea as much as she?
“We haven’t done any sort of lessons,” she felt compelled to point out.
He grinned as he helped her over a fallen branch. “Still, we accomplished what I set out to do.”
“And what was that?”
His grin was wicked and filled with laughter as he shot a sidelong glance toward the chaperone to ascertain she wasn’t close enough to hear. “Steal you away from the evil witch.”
Prudence opened her mouth to chide him. He really oughtn’t say such things.
But what came out...was a laugh.
8
The sound of Pru’s laughter was nice. Melodic and sweet and...lovely.
Now if only he could get her to sing, he had no doubt her voice would be just as sweet. Untrained, of course, and far from perfect. But perfect was overrated, particularly when it came to music.
That was the one lesson he wished to get across to Pru and he wasn’t sure how, not after a lifetime of hearing that her very happiness and the course of her life would be determined by whether or not she could achieve perfection.
“Shall we walk back?” he asked on impulse as they reached the carriage.
Pru looked surprised for only a moment before she nodded. “Oh, but Mrs. Hawkins.”
He arched his brows. “Who?”
The chaperone a few paces behind him cleared her throat.
Pru lowered her voice. “I am not certain she is fit to walk such a distance.”
“Ah,” he said. What he meant was, perfect. “Then by all means, Mrs. Hawkins shall ride in the carriage—”
He saw the older woman open her mouth to protest but he was already turning to the driver. “You wouldn’t mind riding slowly, would you, so as to keep Miss Pottermouth and I in view?”
“Of course not, my lord.”
“There you have it,” he said, already ushering Mrs. Hawkins toward the carriage as Prudence looked on with a look of alarm.
“Truly?” she asked once they were underway.
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you trying to get me killed?” she hissed.
It was official. He absolutely despised the fear he saw in her eyes.
“I told you, Pru.” He met her gaze evenly. “I will deal with your aunt.”
He’d never been a terribly protective sort. But then again, he’d never had much need to be. He had no younger siblings, no damsels in distress who would turn to him for aid. He eyed Prudence now…
Not that she qualified as a damsel in distress.
But somehow her strength and her forceful demeanor made him want to protect her that much more.
