“It’s only me,” she managed to whisper. “Kate.”
“Oh.” In an instant he’d mastered his shock. He rose from the bench and waved her forward. “Please come in. What a surprise.”
She hated for him to see her in her dressing gown, but it seemed a greater sin to remain hidden. “I’m so sorry. I just took Badger out for a minute, and then I saw the light burning. I was curious. I didn’t mean to interrupt your . . .” She bit her lip. “Your seething.”
He smiled and laughed a little.
Kate released her breath, relieved. “I’m so glad you laughed.”
“Were you thinking I wouldn’t?”
“I wasn’t sure. To tease you felt like a risk, but I couldn’t resist.” She approached the pianoforte. “I didn’t know you played.”
“Oh, yes. My brother Bennett does as well—or at least, he used to. Oddly enough, none of my sisters show much inclination for it. It seems to be a trait confined to the Gramercy men.” A half smile tugged at his mouth. “That is, on our side of the family.”
“Do you know if my—if Simon Gramercy played?”
“I believe he did.” Lord Drewe slid down the bench and gestured for her to sit. “Shall we try a duet?”
“I’d like nothing more.”
She choose a simple piece—one of those easy duets that all novice pianists learn with their tutors. Kate had played the lower part of it countless times with her students. Today, she took the upper part, and Lord Drewe quickly entered with the bass.
He was good. Very good. Within a few measures, she could discern his skill. He had long, deft fingers and a reach that she envied. But his talent went deeper than mere skill—he possessed a natural musicality that even a gifted teacher could not impart. Seldom did she have a pupil who could match her for training, but occasionally one came close.
This was the first time in years she’d felt herself truly bested.
But it was marvelous. As they played, she felt him making her better. She soon left the proscribed boundaries of the exercise, taking the melody down different paths. He followed her lead, occasionally made his own suggestions with a new, surprising chord. It would have been difficult to explain to anyone who didn’t play—but the duet was a conversation. They responded to one another, adjusting tempo and dynamics. They finished one another’s phrases. They even told each other jokes.
His technique was flawless; his style, restrained. But she sensed true passion beneath it all.
When they ended the duet with a playful flourish and one final, muted secret of a chord, they looked to each other.
“Well, then,” he said. “That seals it. You must be part of the family.”
Her heart missed a beat. “What are you saying? Did you have some news, some result from the inquiries . . . ?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. But there’s so much indirect evidence. We’ve spent the whole week with you, and we’re all agreed. You simply fit in, Kate. This”—he indicated the pianoforte—“is just one more reason. In my mind, the investigation is concluded. Don’t you feel it, too?”
Kate didn’t feel certain of anything—except that she was most certainly going to cry. She tried to hold the tears back, but a few spilled over. She swiped at them with the side of her wrist.
A few moments passed before she could speak. “Lord Drewe, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“To begin with, you must call me Evan now. And no thanks are necessary.”
Kate drew up her legs beneath her dressing gown and angled to face him on the piano bench. If he was truly her cousin, she now had the right to fuss over him. “Why are you up so late, Evan?”
“I might ask you the same thing.” One dark eyebrow arched. “I won’t believe it was only the dog.”
When she stammered a bit in response, he waved off her explanations.
“It’s all right. You needn’t manufacture excuses. We’re all a bit haunted, we Gramercys. Each of us has a passion. My sister Calista—you’ll meet her soon—has always been wild for nature. Harriet lives for drama, and Lark loves a puzzle. Our brother Bennett would tell you his passion is vice, but he once had nobler pursuits.”
“So your passion is music?”
He shook his head. “I enjoy music, and I often take refuge in it. But music is not what makes me . . .”
“Seethe,” she finished.
He smiled. “Precisely.”
“Then what is it? Or whom?” The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to ask.”