Chapter Five

Why did the new Lord Banfield have to be so pleasant? So generous? And handsome. If it weren’t for his grumpy dog, the man would be perfect. Even Kate had noticed Lord Banfield’s exceptional looks and manner. In fact, she was practically flirting with the man. Celia couldn’t entirely blame her friend because Celia also felt the rush of heat whenever Lord Banfield turned his warm brown eyes upon her. And the kind words he’d said to her in the library played over and over in her mind.

Kate was spending a great deal of time talking about her upbringing at the vicarage, and truthfully, Celia was feeling a bit envious as Kate talked about her multiple siblings and constant activity. She also took the opportunity to toss her blonde curls from time to time.

Celia tried not to be envious of her friend. After all, when had the daughter of an earl ever wished to step down a station? Still, Celia envied Kate’s youth and outlook on life, not to mention the fact that Lord Banfield seemed completely enamored of the conversation. Was he . . . interested in Kate? No, Celia decided. Yet stranger things had happened. Earls had married well beneath them before. It would create a scandal, yes, but Lord Banfield had no hovering parents or relatives marking his every move and decision.

Like her, Lord Banfield was quite on his own in this world.

Celia was no longer hungry, and even when dessert of her favorite chocolate custard was brought in, she turned it down. Yes, she’d invited Kate here, but Celia hadn’t meant for the woman to be so amiable toward Lord Banfield.

With dinner finished, the three of them went into the parlor. Stanley lifted his head from his umpteenth nap of the day as he lay before the hearth. Did the dog do nothing else but sleep?

Celia passed by the dog to sit in one of the armchairs, and the dog emitted a low growl.

“Stanley,” Lord Banfield warned. Then he proceeded to pour himself a brandy as if his growling dog was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Won’t you play for us?” Kate asked Celia.

Lord Banfield took a sip of his brandy and looked over at her. It was about time he paid her some attention. “Do you play the pianoforte, Lady Celia?” he asked.

His eyes had a completely innocent look in them.

“Passably,” she said. “Do you play, Lord Banfield?”

One of his dark eyebrows lifted. “I do, in fact. It’s been quite a while since I’ve had the pleasure though.”

Kate clapped her hands. “Oh, you must play for us then.”

Lord Banfield kept his gaze on Celia. “Only if the lady of the house agrees.”

Celia was no longer the lady of the house, and Lord Banfield knew it. But the way he kept his gaze on her made Celia feel like she’d just eaten the richest dessert. “We’d love you to refresh your talents tonight.”

One side of his mouth lifted into a smile, and Celia could well imagine the sound of his laughter. But he didn’t laugh. He took a final sip of the brandy, then set down the glass. He bowed to Celia, then to Kate, which made her giggle. He crossed to the pianoforte and took his place at the bench.

Celia noticed the seams of his coat had started to wear. He was similar in size to her brother, and there was no reason that he couldn’t wear Bart’s clothing until Lord Banfield could have his own wardrobe made up. Would she be betraying her brother if she made the offer?

Lord Banfield played a short song that Celia didn’t recognize. It was lively and playful, and when he finished she and Kate clapped.

“That was wonderful,” Kate said. “You are very talented.”

Lord Banfield laughed. “That was my warm-up song. It seems I still remember how to play.” He turned back to the pianoforte and picked out a melody with only his right hand.

Celia wondered if Lord Banfield had been a willing student of music or if his parents had insisted upon it. Whatever the case was, she soon forgot her questions when he played the first notes of a Haydn concerto.

Celia exhaled. The concerto had been her brother’s favorite, and he’d asked her to play it for him almost every night. Tears pricked her eyes as the melody continued, slow and methodical, each note bringing back memories of her brother. How he used to lounge across the settee with his eyes closed, and how as soon as she finished, he’d ask her to play it again.

Celia was well familiar with the song that she’d long ago memorized, yet listening to another person play made it feel different. Her chest felt like it had expanded, and her heart hurt. Hurt with the memories, hurt with how much she missed Bart. Hurt with how she had to live on without any of her family members.

The tears were impossible to stop now, and even if she’d had a dozen handkerchiefs, she couldn’t have soaked them up. She hiccupped a silent apology, then she rushed out of the room. She didn’t have a destination in mind, but she ended up in the cool, silent library. Celia pressed her back against the wall next to the door, trying to breathe. The notes of the concerto drifted through the house, still reaching Celia’s place of hiding.

The notes faded, then stopped, and Celia closed her eyes. Please don’t come find me. Just stay away. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She hadn’t felt such intense grief since the early days after her brother’s death. She supposed having the new Lord Banfield arrive had made everything all the more permanent, and she now had to face changes in her life.

Conversation echoed down the hall—a man and a woman’s—Kate and Lord Banfield. Then footsteps, going up the stairs. Good, they’d look for her upstairs and hopefully give up soon. After all, she was a grown woman of twenty-three and didn’t have to be continually supervised.

“Lady Celia?” someone whispered.

Without opening her eyes, she knew it was him.

She’d tell him that she was tired and had a headache. Then she’d make her escape to her bedroom for the night. Tomorrow she’d once again be composed and would fulfill her promise of showing Lord Banfield the estate and telling him about her family history—

“Lady Celia?” His voice was low, soft.

He was standing right in front of her. She couldn’t open her eyes since she didn’t want him to offer her another handkerchief. He’d run out soon enough.

“Are you all right?” he asked, and she felt him watching her, waiting.

She kept her eyes closed, trying to steady her breath, so that when she explained, her words would be calm. “That concerto was my brother’s favorite song.”

Lord Banfield didn’t respond for a moment, and when he did it was unexpected. “My mother taught me to play. She said that music uplifts the heart and comforts the soul.”

Celia nodded, even though her eyes were still closed.

“Your brother had good taste in music.”

Celia nodded again as another round of tears started. Before she could swipe them away, Lord Banfield pressed a handkerchief against her cheeks, soaking up the tears for her.

She opened her eyes, but he didn’t move away, didn’t apologize for taking such liberties. In the dimness of the library, he continued to dab at her cheeks. He was so close, and he smelled of after-dinner brandy and musk.

She couldn’t exactly explain how it happened—if he stepped closer or if she leaned into him—but he pulled her into his arms. All she knew was that he was holding her. And even though she estimated he was a similar build to her brother, being in his arms was nothing like embracing her brother. Lord Banfield’s chest was warm, solid, breathing, and she felt the slow thud of his heartbeat against her own body. She slid her arms about his waist, and his arms tightened around her.

For the first time in a very long time, Celia didn’t feel alone.

She didn’t know how long they embraced, but eventually her tears dried, and the ache in her chest lessened. And even after he released her, and she stepped away, she still felt his embrace.