Her Counterfeit Husband (14 page)

She waited for more, to see if he’d lift his hand against her, but he didn’t.  Instead, he let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his eyes.  Relieved, she released her breath.

“I really want to do this,” he softly told her.  “I’m willing to overcome my fear of horses for you.  Why can’t you oblige me and let me remember our wedding?”

“I
t isn’t done,” she argued, though her voice wa
s weak as a part of her relented
.

“So just because other people don’t do it, does it mean we can’t?”

“What you’re asking is more than a simple afternoon event.  Weddings requir
e time to prepare and bans to
read.  People must be notified, a b
reakfast prepared, outfits
tailored.  It’s a lot of work, and I’d have to explain to everyone what happened to you.  Then there will be endless questions to answer because they’ll want to know all the details.  After everything that’s happened over the past couple
of
months, I don’t have the strength to go through all
of
that.”

With a reluctant sigh, he relented.  “I suppose it doesn’t matter.  Not really.  As you said, we’re already married.”

Shoving aside the sting of guilt that crept over her, she reminded herself she was doing it for him.  If Lord Mason was asking questions, then others would, too, and she could only do so much to protect him from people who might know the difference between him and her husband.  “It’s for the best,” she finally said, wondering if he’d agree or not.

He nodded but didn’t respond.  Not knowing what else to do, she sat by him in silence and watched the water as it fell from the top of the fountain.

T
wo weeks
later, Anna glanced up from her piano when she heard someone enter the drawing room.  She assumed it was Appleton, but to her surprise,
it was Watkins.  He
went over to the settee and looked expectantly at her.  Her fingers paused on the keys.

He smiled and motioned for her to continue.  “I enjoy listening to you play.”

“You do?”

Giving her an
annoyingly charming grin she still hadn’t gotten used to
, he nodded
.  “You can be assured I meant every word I said.” Then he leaned back and
placed his hands behind his head, never once taking his eyes
off her.

Her face warmed under those intense green eyes of his.  So much like her husband and yet so
different.  With her husband, those eyes
made her shiver in dread.  With
him, it made her shiver
in delight
.  Forcing the observation aside, she resumed her playing.  If he wanted to come in here and listen to her play, the least she could do was oblige him.

But the matter was easier said than done, for her fingers
kept slipping on the keys
. 
After the fifth time she missed
a note,
she gave up and closed the song
book.

“Why did you stop?” he asked, straightening in his seat.

She offered a nonchalant shrug.  “I was done with the song.”

There was no way she’d tell him the truth, that he unnerved her and that whenever he was around, all she could think of was how wonderful he was.  Yes, he was attractive, too, just as her husband had been, but it was his sweet temperament that called to her, insisting she throw caution to the wind and fall in love with him.

She cleared her throat.  “Perhaps I’ll go for a walk.”

With a disappointed sigh, he asked, “Must you?  I was enjoying what you played.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that
because of
her mistakes, there was no way he could have enjoyed the melody, but then she realized he had enjoyed it because she played it.  She could have hit every wrong key, and he would have liked it.  “You’re much too kind,” she finally told him.

“I don’t see how being honest is being kind, but if you say so…” She stood, so he quickly added, “I mean
t
what I said.  I’d like to hear you play.  You spend so much time at that piano, but I only get to hear snippets of your music.  Would you grant me the privilege of at least two more songs?  Then if you still wish, we can go for a walk.  I’ll even take the horse along to get used to it.”

She sat back dow
n. “You strike a hard bargain, Your G
race.”

“I didn’t think you’d continue playing any other way.”

He was right, but she chose not to admit it.   Instead, she opened the book.  “Do you prefer it to be light or dark?”

“I prefer music.”

It took her a moment to pick up on his joke, and when she did, she shot him an amused grin.  “You know what I meant.”

He chuckled.  “Play something cheerful and romantic.”

Arching an eyebrow, she said, “I didn’t think gentlemen preferred romantic.”

“Of course, we do, especially in the presence of a beautiful lady.”

“You speak like a rake, Your G
race.”

Without waiting for his reply, she turned her attention to the book and picked out a melody he’d probably enjoy.  Fortunately, it was also something easy to play, which would mean fewer mistakes.

Or at least that was the theory.  As she played, she was acutely aware that he was watching her. 
At one point, she dared a peek
in his direction and saw that
he
was smiling a
t her.  But it was more than a
smile.  It was the way he smiled, as if he saw everything lovely and perfect in a lady
when he looked at her
.  This shouldn’t have caused her greater unease, but it did and the resulting jumbled mess she played made her wish she had picke
d something short.  T
his song was much too long.  She grimaced her way through the rest of
it and was relieved when it finally ca
me to an end.

She breathed a sigh of relief and closed the book.  If she had to go through that horror again, she might give up on playing anything for the rest of her life.  She stood and, pretending she hadn’t noticed the way
she butchered the song
, said, “I think we should walk without the horse this time.”

He rose to his feet.  “That was very well done.  I hope you’ll let me listen to you play again in the future.”

She settled for saying, “Maybe,” and left it at that.   Who knew?  Maybe twenty or thirty years from now, she could play for h
im without
botching
up the whole thing
.  “I’ll need to change into more suitable shoes.  I’ll be back soon.” Before he could talk her into another song, she hurried out of the room.

***

By the time
Anna showed up at the door of the drawing room
, Jason was tapping the keys of the piano.  He smiled when he saw her.  She was a vision of loveliness, just the kind of thing that made a gentleman’s blood come to a boil.  His initial thought was to chastise himself for thinking of her in such a way, but she was his wife. 
He had every right to think of her in sensual terms. 
They’d shared a bed together in
the past.  It was a shame
he didn’t reme
mber it.

But he reasoned that
they’d be sharing a bed again.  Maybe not right away but soon enough, or at least that’s what he hoped.  Whatever he’d done to make her unhappy
, he hoped that he could redeem
himself.

“Are you ready for the walk, Your G
race?” she asked, still waiting for him in the doorway.

Forcing his attention off her figure, he tapped a key on the piano and asked, “Did I ever play the piano?”

“No.”

“Why not?  It looks like fun.”

Her lips curled up
into a smile
and she entered the room.  “I enjoy it immensely.”

“I gathered that much by how often you play it.  You needn’t be so worried about playing in front of me.  I love to watch you play.” And
watch
was the keyword.  He much preferred to look at her while she played inst
ead of standing in the hallway and
listen to her.  “In addition to you and Appleton teaching me how to read, would you like to
teach me how to play something?
”

She clasped her hands in front of her.  “I don’t know.”

“Why?  Did I use
d
to hate the piano?”

“No, it’s not that.”

Noting the hesitant tone in her voice, he pressed, “
Am I
an undesirable pupil when it comes to reading and writing?”

“No.  You’ve been an excellent one.”

“So why won’t you explain what these silly looking things are?” He held up one
of the songbooks
and
pointed
to the bars with different dots on them.  “The only thing I recognize is the words at the top of the page.”

“That’s the title.”

“Oh.  Good.” He set the book
in front of him.  “Now that we’ve
established
that, how do I play the song
?” He patted the spot on th
e bench next to him.  “You lead;
I’ll follow.”

She let out a sigh, and he couldn’t tell if it was from frustration or because she detected his ploy to get close to her.  Either way, it didn’t matter since she sat next to him.  He noticed she left enough space between them so they weren’t touching, but
he quickly corrected that
oversight and closed the gap between them.

“Watkins,” she said, a h
int
of
warning in her voice.

In an effort to distract her, he tapped a black key.  “What do the black ones do?”

“Those are
for flat or sharp notes.”

“What do flat and sharp notes do
?”

“They
enhance the music when
they’re played at the
right
time
.”

“Oh well, that’s good.” He tapped a white key.  “So these white ones don’t enhance the music?”

She giggled.  “They do.  It really depends on the melody and how all the notes go together.” S
he picked up another book and
placed it
in
front of him.  “If you want to start playing the piano, you need to start with the basics.  These notes on the page
fo
rm a C-major
scale: C, D, E, F, G, A, B.”

“It almost sounds like the order of the alphabet.”

“Well, it is in a way, but the note you start with depends on what type of scale you’re using.”
Before he could ask another question about scales, she motioned to the keys.  “This is where the C-major scale begins.  As you go up the scale, you can think of the alphabet.  Remember that when you get to ‘G’, you go back to ‘A’.  Here’s how you play a C-major scale.”

He watched as she played each key.
  “You’re good at this.”

“It’s not hard to play a scale.”

“Then I should try it.” He followed the path her fingers had gone up the piano and let his hand brush hers since her hand was still resting on the keys.  “How was that?”

Her face grew pink as she pulled her hand away.  Clearing her throat, she replied, “You did very well, but next time you need to also look at the sheet music in fro
nt of you so you can remember which note goes with which key.”

“Where are the sharp and flat notes?”

“That’s not covered in this lesson.  What you need to do is get familiar with the notes.”

“Oh.” He glanced at the sheet music and the keys.  “Just how long does that take?”

She shrugged.  “It depends on
how much time you put into it.  The more you practice, the faster you’ll pick thing
s
up.”