Grey's Lady Read Online Free Page A

gave him a sensation like having the wind knocked out of him.
    “Really? You can play it that well?”
    “Yes, or so I have been told. I play for wages at Mrs Bickle’s Inn on Maple Street in the afternoons. But it doesn’t bring in much.” She sighed. “I do it for the privilege of having access to a piano.”
    “Where did you learn?” he asked, warmed by the passion resonating in her voice.
    “My mother worked for a kindly lady who had lost her own daughter to the yellow fever, and she allowed me many liberties in her home. She taught me how to play.”
    “You should take on as many students as you can manage and earn as much as you can while youth and health are on your side.”
    “I don’t have my own piano.”
    “You could teach the children of the wealthy in their own homes, on their own pianos.”
    “I can’t right now. My brother needs my help in his cobbler shop. He doesn’t like me to spend too much time away. He’s not happy about my working for Mrs Bickle as it is.”
    Inhaling deeply, he struggled to keep his voice patient. “Why would you allow your brother to dictate your chosen employment?”
    “I have an obligation to my family.”
    “Your brother can hire more help.”
    “He can’t afford it.”
    “You can help pay for it out of the wages you earn teaching, instead of ruining your eyesight and”—he took her hand and kissed the palm—“your beautiful hands slaving away making shoes, which, I’d wager all the sealskin in the Pacific, you loathe with every fibre of your being.”
    “Charlie tried to hire some apprentices but he says no one stitches as evenly as I do.”
    Not trusting what he might say next, he released her hand and got up from the bed. He went straight to the sideboard and poured a healthy dose of bourbon into a glass.
    “Grey?”
    He looked up and saw her dressed in his banyan, rolling up the too-long sleeves, her silver-gilt hair shining against the dark blue fabric.
    He put the glass down. “All I hear are excuses.”
    “Are you angry with me?” she asked, her tone incredulous.
    “I am trying to help you and you are fighting me.”
    “I am not fighting you, I am simply explaining my life.”
    “You are making excuses. Excuses won’t get you anywhere in this world.”
    “You don’t understand.” Her sad, little voice only increased his vexation. Anger at any brother who would allow his sister to sacrifice herself. Frustration at her for allowing it. She was clearly meant for better things.
    “No, I don’t understand. You aren’t lazy. I have seen and felt your hands. They are not the hands of an idle woman. You certainly don’t seem to be shy about going after what you want. You say you have talent. However, you won’t go after your heart’s desire because your brother wants you to waste yourself sewing shoes because no one else can stitch as neatly. It sounds like complete nonsense.”
    “I have a duty to my siblings. They are a good deal older than I. I had a different father. I had advantages they never had.”
    “But you could be earning good money doing something you really—” He raised his hands in mock defeat. “No, as you say, I don’t understand.”
    “Anyway, I don’t want to teach ungrateful children who are uninterested because they’ve been handed everything in life. I want to teach girls who have talent but no prospect of learning.”
    He gaped at her, stunned. He knew society ladies who did charity work to enhance their image, but he’d never met a truly idealistic woman. Yet the sincerity in her eyes was unmistakable.
    “Well, however illogical your logic, I admit that is a worthy goal,” he said.
    “But as far away as China right now.” She looked so sad. He felt that peculiar tweak in his chest. It made him want to fix her world. But he knew better. He didn’t champion causes or rescue sad-eyed damsels. Not anymore. His interest in her was purely sexual.
    A knock at the door sent her running back to the bed.
    Grey