“Don’t you go getting all grim on me,” Prudence murmured beside him.
His head came up with a snap. “Excuse me?”
Her lips twitched upward. “Where will we be if we’re both too serious?”
He laughed. “Who said you’re too serious?”
She shrugged and he found he couldn’t look away from the small smile that hovered on her lips as if she’d forgotten it was there. “My best friend, Delilah. My other friends, Louisa and Addie…”
She looked over and caught his surprise before he could hide it. “Yes, Damian, I do have friends,” she said with a roll of her eyes that made him laugh.
“Of course you do,” he said.
“Don’t be condescending,” she said. “If a rakish rogue such as yourself can have some friends then surely a too-serious, sanctimonious goody-two-shoes like me can as well.”
He gasped and threw a hand over his heart, feigning shock. “Whoever called you such names?”
She glanced over at him and they both burst out in a laugh that seemed to ease some of the heaviness that had been weighing on him ever since he’d seen that flicker of fear.
“Tell me honestly, Damian,” she said after they’d walked in companionable silence for a few moments. “Do you truly think you can make me decent enough of a pianist to be able to perform for my husband-to-be and his family next week without humiliating myself?”
“No,” he said promptly. Her face fell and he nudged her lightly. “You will be able to sing, however.”
She widened her eyes. “You haven’t even heard me sing.”
“I know you can carry a tune. I can work with that.”
She eyed him oddly. “You have a lot of confidence in your abilities.”
He shrugged. “Haven’t you ever found something you’re particularly good at?”
She tilted her head to the side in thought before nodding. He itched to ask what it was, to hear her talk about her accomplishments and her skills. But right now she needed his reassurance, and that he could give. “Well then, rest assured that my talents lie in music.”
She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off.
“I realized that while I enjoy making music, I enjoy bringing it out in others even more.”
“Bringing it out,” she repeated quietly. “That’s an odd way of putting it.”
“It’s how I see it,” he said. “Everyone has music in them. Like I said the other day. It’s everywhere, all the time. It’s in us.” He clamped his mouth shut before he could say much more. Already he felt ridiculous for being so passionate about the topic, but these past two years he’d stopped trying to fight the pull toward this particular obsession.
Unlike drinking and gambling, his passion for music caused himself and others no harm. It was now his one vice, his only freedom in a life where words like obligation and duty were slowly starting to wear away at his soul.
“How did you become so interested in music?” she asked.
He hesitated, scuffing at the dirt beneath their feet. The farther they got from the center of town, the less crowded the road. It was almost possible to forget their escort which rode slowly behind them. For a moment he could actually pretend they were alone. Maybe that was why he let the truth slip out. “It is all I have left of my parents.”
At her silence he continued, his gaze fixed on his feet. “My earliest memories were of singing, of dancing, of playing music that made the entire household rattle.” A smile tugged at his lips at the memory.
“That must have been a wonderful house to be a child,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
He nodded. “It was. Although it wasn’t all perfect. I’m sure you’ve heard about how my father ran off with a gypsy woman.”
She blinked in surprise at his candor, and he grinned. “It’s all right. What’s a few secrets between friends, hmm?”
“Is that what we are?” she asked.
His smile faltered when he looked at her. “Aren’t we?”
She didn’t answer, and he was glad. Because now that the question was out there, he wasn’t certain how he wished her to answer. Were they friends?
He wasn’t certain what he felt toward her counted as friendship. But it wasn’t the same antagonistic rivalry from their youth either. Whatever this was he was starting to feel for her, it was strong and it was sweet and it was….terrifying.
He looked away quickly, afraid of what she might be seeing in his expression.
“Tell me more,” she said. “What was not so perfect about your childhood home?”
“The whispers. The gossip.” He shrugged. “I knew from the time I could walk that we did not fit in, not the way we ought. My parents never tried to shield me from it. They did not revel in being a scandal, and I know that it caused quite a bit of pain, particularly for my mother. But they cared more about each other, more about our family, than they cared about what society thought.” He swallowed down a wave of emotions as old memories came to light. “I think they would have been content to live as outcasts for the rest of their lives, which…” He scratched the back of his head self-consciously as he finished. “I suppose they did.”
Silence fell and it felt too heavy for such a fine day.
“Anyhow,” he continued in a lighter tone. “Music was the one thing I brought with me from home and I suppose I never wanted to let it go. I suppose that sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”
Her voice was soft, sad. “It sounds lovely.”
He glanced up at her and caught it. A rare glimpse of vulnerability. His heart jerked in his chest and his lungs seized, and the truth was out before he could stop it. “You are lovely.”
She blinked, her eyes widening as his words registered. Blushing, she looked down. “Thank you, but you needn’t say things like that.”
He opened his mouth to argue, to tell
