Chapter 8 #6
She scarcely looked toward those gathered in the drawing room, unlike many accomplished young ladies who sought some sign of their audience's approval. Helena seemed content simply to lose herself in the music.
It left him wondering how she might have played had she not chosen to yield the evening to Georgiana. The thought returned to him that her restraint had been deliberate, and he found himself wishing, if only for a moment, to hear the performance she had decided not to give.
After completing the first piece, Helena played a second, lighter composition, keeping her promise to perform twice before yielding the instrument to Georgiana. When the final notes faded, warm applause filled the drawing room.
Helena laughed softly at their generous approval before rising from the pianoforte. Tristan offered his hand and she accepted it with a grateful smile. “Thank you for turning the pages.”
“It was my pleasure.”
Before either could say more, Georgiana crossed the room. “You play beautifully,” she said, taking Helena's hands. “You have quite inspired me to spend more time at the pianoforte. Now, are you ready?”
“Most certainly,” Helena replied with a smile.
The two ladies resumed their places upon the music stool, and as Georgiana arranged the music between them, Tristan realized they intended to sing a duet, with Georgiana accompanying them at the pianoforte.
He resumed his place beside Nathaniel as Beatrice met his eye. One glance was enough. Though they had long since outgrown the nursery, some understandings between brother and sister never altered.
They had both endured Georgiana's youthful objections to practicing her scales, and Beatrice's knowing smile told him she had not failed to recognize why he had been so eager to hear her play.
The memory lent an added amusement to Georgiana's accomplished performance that only siblings could truly appreciate.
Tristan smiled as he listened to his younger sister. Though Georgiana possessed considerable skill at the pianoforte, she approached the performance differently from Helena. Georgiana sang with an awareness of those gathered about her, while Helena seemed simply to delight in the music itself.
A glance toward Nathaniel proved equally absorbing.
His friend was entirely captivated by Georgiana, his expression one of unmistakable admiration.
Tristan's attention did not remain there for long, however.
Helena's voice drew him back, blending so naturally with Georgiana's that neither overpowered the other, and he listened to the remainder of the duet with enjoyment.
At the end of the evening, Tristan chose to accompany Nathaniel to the hall while the ladies retired to their chambers.
"A marvelous evening," Nathaniel said as they stepped into the hall. "And I must say, your countess is quite remarkable. I am already exceedingly fond of her."
"I am grateful that events have taken the course they have." Tristan replied. "She is free of the baron, and I believe my family is all the happier for her presence. The past week, during which one might have expected a great deal of adjustment, has passed remarkably well."
"When I marry," Nathaniel said thoughtfully as they waited for the footman to retrieve his coat, "perhaps, I too ought to marry a lady I first count as a friend."
"My parents would advise you to seek affection as well," Tristan said with a faint smile.
"And you have not?" Nathaniel asked, one brow lifting. Before Tristan could answer, the footman helped Nathaniel into his coat. "Perhaps we should go for a ride tomorrow. Ah, no, confound it. Tomorrow is Sunday." He laughed. "Monday, then."
"Monday, then," Tristan agreed.
Nathaniel returned the smile before stepping through the front door and descending the steps into the London night.
Tristan returned to his room and retrieved the baron's letter and the note of warning.
He read the latter once more before his gaze drifted to the locked door that separated his chambers from Helena's.
The note had crossed his mind several times throughout the day, and he wondered what ought to be done with it.
"I could simply knock," he murmured to the empty room. "She is surely still awake." His eyes remained on the door. "Perhaps this is all that stands between us returning to our former way of conversation."
A knock sounded before he could give the matter further thought.
"Come in."
His valet entered. "Shall I assist you in retiring, My Lord?"
Tristan looked once more toward the adjoining door before glancing at the note in his hand.
"Yes, thank you," Tristan replied. He folded the note and returned it to the drawer before locking it away.
His valet helped him out of his evening coat before undoing his cravat with practiced efficiency.
Tristan stood in thoughtful silence as his waistcoat and shirt followed, revealing broad shoulders and a lean, well-proportioned frame.
His valet laid each garment aside before handing him his nightshirt.
Tristan knew he trusted Helena, of that he was entirely certain. Yet he also knew the questions she would ask. When had the note arrived? Why had he withheld it from her?
As his valet extinguished the remaining candles and made ready to withdraw, Tristan considered the evening they had just enjoyed. It had been a most pleasant one, and it seemed a poor time to revive unpleasant memories of the baron.
No, he thought. Not tonight.
His valet wished him good night and quietly departed, closing the door behind him.
Tristan crossed to his bed, but before retiring, his gaze returned once more to the locked door that separated his chambers from Helena's.