In the Arms of an Earl Read Online Free Page A

dabbed at the mess with a napkin.
    Jane barely noticed her friend’s smile. Her vision still burned with the image of the composer’s eyes. Even in the sun-filled assembly hall, they’d glowed with a light all their own.

Chapter Three
    Jane drew her shawl around her shoulders and tiptoed down the corridor. The carpeted stairs were quiet beneath her slippered feet as she made her way through the dimly lit house to the drawing room. Easing the door closed behind her, she hastened to the fireplace and stoked the dying embers.
    The room warmed up slowly, and she sat at Lucinda’s pianoforte, running her fingers lightly over the mahogany cover. Anxious her performance for Colonel Blakeney be as efficient as possible, she’d stayed awake until she was sure the household was asleep.
    She savored the moment before lifting the lid. The keys glowed faintly in the firelight, their patina still gleaming from the irregular practicing of its owners. If she could only have such an instrument! She’d hoped to receive one from her sisters, but the money they’d sent her family had gone toward improvements on the house and farm. Her mother had allowed her a small sum for her own use, but it was paltry enough she’d spent it on new books and music.
    The heat from the fire filtered through her night rail. She flexed her fingers and shrugged off her shawl, letting it fall behind her to the floor.
    She started with a warm-up exercise, which flowed into a more difficult piece, a minuet she’d practiced at home. Frustrated with her performance, she abandoned it in favor of a Scottish air. It was one of her favorite pieces, and the music poured richly from her nimble fingers as she played, echoing within the empty room.
    Her energetic playing was not enough to soothe her yearning spirit. The haunting melody of the symphony—F.B.’s symphony—had never left the empty spaces within her heart. She took a deep breath before she plunged joyously into the depths of the music, the notes spiraling around her as she played it all from memory. When she reached the end, she retained her final posture, as if the movement of a single hair would cause the moment to vanish.
    “Bravo.” An oddly familiar, deep voice murmured from the corner.
    Jane rose with a startled cry, slamming her hands down on the keys. The unmistakable form of the composer she had so admired stepped out of the shadows.
    There was only one reason why he could be at Everhill. F.B. was Lucinda’s Colonel B. She wondered why she should be surprised.
    Colonel Blakeney bowed, and when he straightened, the composer’s dark eyes regarded her with wary goodwill.
    She snatched her shawl from the floor, her fingers tangling in the fringe in her haste to swirl it over her shoulders.
    “I didn’t know anyone was here. I’m very sorry to disturb you, sir.”
    The backs of her knees banged the bench, and it wobbled. She stumbled around it, her heart pounding an erratic tattoo. Should she pretend not to recognize him? What must he think of her, playing in the middle of the night with wild abandon, clad only in her night rail?
    His facial features appeared distorted in the flickering firelight. “It is I who must apologize. I’m afraid I have disturbed you. Miss Brooke, is it?”
    “Yes,” she murmured. She licked her dry lips, half-fearing what he might say about her poor attempt at duplicating his music. She’d been off by two counts on the last few measures and had covered up badly. Worse than his criticism would be a censure of her unintended insult at the musicale.
    Though she feared being forward, her gaze was drawn to him. He’d discarded his coat and wore a brocade waistcoat over his white shirt. His left sleeve was sewn closed at the wrist. She recalled what Lucinda had said about his losing the woman he loved because of his injury. If only she could apologize for the earlier incident when he’d thought she pulled away in disgust.
    Her gaze flicked back to his face, and his