Chapter Twenty-Nine #3
“I don’t know why Linus chose the lyre,” Her Grace said with a half smile. “This family lives far too many of our namesakes’ myths. If that instrument is his downfall, I will be sorely tempted to have ‘I told you so’ inscribed on his grave marker.”
The Lancasters lived their myths. It was an intriguing idea, though not one to be taken too literally.
As far as Arabella knew, Linus’s oldest sister was not held prisoner in the underworld, his second sister had not been born from her father’s forehead, his younger sister was never turned into a tree, and, though his youngest sister was young yet, Artemis clearly had not and did not seem likely to violently decry the notice of men.
It was a shame the myth of Linus didn’t include his falling in love with a servant. She might have allowed herself to believe that the family’s lives were influenced by mythology. She would have prayed for it to be true.
“I have never heard anyone play the lyre,” Dr. Scorseby said. “This should be very interesting.”
“Historical texts are interesting,” Artemis said. “Mathematics is interesting. My brother’s music is mesmerizing.”
Arabella was ever more intrigued. “He is truly that talented?”
Artemis met her eye. With pride so obvious it was palpable, she said, “Linus of old would have been impressed. Perhaps even envious.”
Arabella took the vacant seat beside Mater.
She clasped her hands, hoping to hide her growing excitement.
A man of the military who was kind to children, devoted to his family, responsible, friendly, tender, made her laugh, and gently and affectionately held her hand, who also apparently played beautiful music. How could she help but love him?
He returned in the very next moment, a wooden lyre tucked carefully under his arm. “Have you sufficiently prepared yourself for the musical genius you are about to experience?”
Charlie answered first. “Your sister extolled your abilities for hours on end. Our expectations are very high.”
“Not ‘hours,’” Artemis insisted.
“It felt like hours.”
Arabella eyed the two combatants. “If the two of you continue to prevent him from playing his music, I swear to you I will make your next few minutes feel like hours.”
Mater grinned. His Grace offered a silent round of applause.
Linus took her hand in his free one and bowed over it. “My most sincere gratitude, Miss Hampton.” He did not immediately release her hand but lingered over the touch. “Do you have any tunes you’d like to hear?”
“Any you’d like to play.” Her words emerged nearly breathless.
He nodded, smiled, and slipped back. He pulled the stool away from the pianoforte and sat on it. He rested the lyre on one leg, situated perpendicular to his body. A quick succession of strums sounded before he settled in more comfortably.
The others in the room might have been watching him as closely as she was, but she refused to look away long enough to find out. Every thought was focused on him.
Linus met her eye. “I learned this one in Naples.”
He played a piece unlike anything she’d ever heard.
The melody was unusual but undeniably pleasant.
Lilting and light, precisely the sort of tune one would wish to dance to but wouldn’t for fear of missing its beauty.
Artemis’s description had been entirely accurate.
Her brother’s music was, indeed, mesmerizing.
Furthermore, watching him was utterly enthralling. Some musicians grew tense and focused as they played. Some seemed to be aware of nothing beyond their effort. But Linus grew more relaxed. His expression turned to one of complete contentment as he swayed to the music. He looked happy.
She raised her clasped hands to her lips, pressing them there as she watched him. She already loved what she knew of him. To see his appreciation of music, an affection she shared, only endeared him to her further.
The tune ended.
“Marvelous, Mr. Lancaster,” Mater said.
Dr. Scorseby said something vaguely complimentary.
The rest of the Lancaster family had more enthusiastic praise.
Linus didn’t look at any of them. His eyes lighted on no one but her. How easily she could recall the feel of his hand in hers and his delicate kiss on her fingers.
“Play another, Mr. Lancaster,” Mater requested.
Linus still held Arabella’s gaze. “I think Miss Hampton will enjoy this one in particular.”
Why was that?
The corner of his mouth tipped upward. He plucked a string. “This is called”—he met her eye again—“‘Walking in a Country Town.’”
Walking. She bit her lips closed against the laugh that bubbled up. He chose a song for her about walking.
The song was lovely, buoyant in a way the previous hadn’t been, but not loud or overbearing.
It was a pleasant melody. She enjoyed it for more than that though.
The song, one about walking, had made him think of her.
He knew that she walked. He had noticed.
Yet he hadn’t mocked the need or the undertaking as so many others did.
She would think of him every time she walked, and she would think of this song he played just for her.
Her song.