try another, the violin would be the one.
“Good evening, Chrissy,” Justin Rodale’s voice came from behind her.
She looked into the reflection of the glass and saw his tall form behind her. She turned around to face him and had to swallow hard. He looked so very dashing wearing all black except for the bright white of his cravat at his throat. His unfashionably long hair had been pulled to the back and tied in a ribbon at his neck. It had been a couple of months since she’d seen him and he looked devastatingly handsome.
“You look like a pirate,” she said dumbly. Splendid . If Ella were here, she’d eat her hat.
He grinned, one eyebrow sliding up. “Is that a compliment?”
“I’m not certain,” she said honestly. “Your hair is unfashionably long.”
“I like it that way.”
She nearly agreed with him, but stopped herself. What was the matter with her? She didn’t approve of his hair. Proper ladies did not find men with long hair appealing. What was he doing here?
“Allow me to escort you through the exhibit,” he said offering her his arm.
She eyed him for a moment, then her curiosity got the better of her and she accepted the invitation.
“You look beautiful in that color,” he said.
“Thank you. I bought this dress recently on a shopping trip with Ella. She insisted I purchase the fabric, said a gown in this color would highlight my complexion.” She just repeated what he’d said. She wasn’t normally such a goose. In an effort to reclaim her intelligence, she focused on the exhibit. They were walking into the piano room, her favorite place in all of London and she told him as much.
“Do you play?”
“Yes,” she said, tempering her response. Rebecca had told her years ago to watch herself carefully when she spoke of music as she had a tendency to become overly excited about the subject. “I am quite fond of playing.”
He eyed her for a moment before asking. “Have you seen Mr. Wilbanks lately?”
“I saw him last night, but he does not care for museums so he is not attending.” She hoped that once they were married he would change his opinion of them, attend a few with her as she favored them quite a bit. She stopped walking and looked at him. “Justin, what are you doing here tonight?”
“My mother always loved music. She brought me here when I was a boy.” He walked forward. “Also, I suspected you might be here.”
She wanted to ask about his mother, but his admission intrigued her. “Why did you think I would be here?” They stood in front of a small Viennese piano. The keys were worn and chipped, but she longed to put her fingers upon them to hear the sweet notes.
“First you must answer a question for me.” He waited until she nodded in concession. “Why is it that you are so intent on marrying George? Has he made declarations that he intends to propose?”
“Not in so many words, but he has insinuated as much.” It had been two months since she’d seen or spoken to Justin, why would he seek her out with these questions about George? Perhaps he had discovered that George did, in fact, owe Rodale’s money. “And we are a good match,” she added with a nod.
“Someone told you that?”
She nodded again to answer his question, but kept her focus on the piano, the polished wood, the strings.
“Who?”
“People,” she said dismissively.
“Your dear friend, what is her name again?”
“Ella and no.” She shook her head. “Ella is not very fond of George.” She nearly chuckled. That was putting it mildly. Ella did not like George at all. “He has been good friends with her brother for years. Much in the way you were with Marcus. She grew up around George so she finds him annoying, I suppose.”
“Do you find me annoying?” he asked with raised brows.
She smiled. “Not at the moment.”
“If not Ella, who was it that told you that George would be a good fit for you?”
“Why are you so curious?” She eyed him for a moment. “It