They discussed the plans for the school until Lady Carmichael mounted the dais and introduced her artiste.
As soon as the Signorina laid fingers on the keyboard, Sophie forgot the Girls’ School, Trowbridge’s presence, and the fact that she was oddly dressed. The delicate strains of “Für Elise” carried her like ripples on a stream, draining all the tension out of her and sweeping her away. “The Moonlight Sonata” was hauntingly exquisite, every progression both a surprise and at the same time expected. It was as though Beethoven had taken dictation from heaven.
Then came the intermission. Lord Shrewsbury inquired, “Would you like some cake and punch?”
“Perhaps a little punch. Thank you, my lord.”
The duke joined him as they melted into the crowd around the refreshment table.
“So what did you think?” Elise asked.
“You are the pianist,” Sophie said.
“Oh, I am not in your league musically. You know that, Sophie.”
“It was very well executed. I enjoyed it. But quickly, I must talk of something else. May I visit you and the children in the morning? I have so much to tell you and need your advice.”
“I will be at home to you, dearest. You have me all agog. Can you give me a hint?”
Sophie saw the men returning. She leaned in and whispered in Elise’s ear, “Gorgeous Frank.”
Elise gave a broad smile.
“Telling secrets?” the duke asked.
“Of course,” Elise said. “What did you expect when you left us alone?”
Shrewsbury handed Sophie her punch. “I do not know how to wait to hear you play your violin.”
“Well, you shall have to possess yourself in patience, my lord. We cannot be expected to put together a new piece, especially a Beethoven composition, in a short period of time.” Sophie smiled at him, hoping to take any reproach from her words.
He looked down at her with his light blue eyes, enhanced by the color of his coat. He really was very handsome. His expression was unaccountably gentle. “Are you enjoying the concert?”
“Very much. Thank you so much for bringing me. I should hate to have missed it.”
Sophie felt slightly awkward. Conversation with Lord Shrewsbury was not nearly as easy as it was with Frank. “I am looking forward to teaching in the Girls’ School. How long before it will get underway?”
“I am hoping that Lady Clarice and Lady Susannah can start canvassing for pupils in the coming week. That will probably be the most difficult part. I do not want the orphans to think we have nefarious plans in store for them.”
“No, that would not do. Will Sukey and my aunt be safe wandering the East End?”
“I will be behind them, dressed in beaver hat and top coat, trying to look non-threatening. I promise I will watch over Lady Clarice and Lady Susannah with great care.” He smiled at her, his eyes tender with reassurance. Sophie was growing confused. Was this man, Frank’s best friend, developing a tendre for her? Or was he like this with everyone?
“That makes me feel better. My aunt Clarice is like a mother to me. She visited often in Derbyshire. I should not want anything to happen to her. And, of course, Sukey is such a dear.”
Signorina Giannini ascended the dais, signaling it was time for the concert to resume. Shrewsbury gripped her elbow, guiding her to her chair. She felt none of the tingling or goose bumps she associated with Frank.
The Italian pianist played Mozart’s difficult and lively “Piano Sonata in A Major.” It was certainly designed as a showpiece for her abilities and had the benefit of keeping the audience awake.
Lord Shrewsbury seemed to be spending more time looking at her profile than he spent looking at the performer. His gaze made her uncomfortable. Soon her own attention wandered from the music. Clearly, something was afoot here. Did this man not know of his friend’s attachment to her?
As Sophie pondered the matter, she realized that Frank was undoubtedly a private person and would not have shared the intimate episodes that had passed between them. And they had not appeared anywhere in public since the visit to Hyde Park. Perhaps Lord Shrewsbury had no idea of his friend’s feelings—or of hers. It was an awkward situation, and she knew not what to do about it.
When the concert was over, Sophie offered her applause. As she stood to leave, Lord Shrewsbury put his hand in the small of her back, leading her out of the crowded room. She did not appreciate the proprietary gesture. Elise caught her eye and raised an eyebrow.
With her limp, Sophie found that Shrewsbury was propelling her a bit too fast for comfort.
“If you please, my lord, let me determine my own pace. If I might have your arm?”
He looked stricken. “Oh, I was forgetting … I beg your pardon, Miss Edwards. Perhaps we should wait until the crush has passed by?”