As the allegro flared, Liliana gave thanks that she hadn’t been expected to participate. As much as Aunt had tried to force music upon her, Liliana hadn’t the patience for endless hours of practice. She’d preferred to spend her time poring through as many writings on organic chemistry as she could get her hands on, searching for ways to apply those principles to the healing arts she was learning. So while she loved listening, she played abysmally, unlike Jane’s proficient recital. Lady Stratford would be appalled.
The tiny hairs on the back of Liliana’s nape rose, and she stiffened in her seat.
“Perhaps this isn’t such a bad way to choose a wife,” Aveline commented, drawing her attention away from the odd sensation. “Take Lady Jane, for example.” He gestured idly with his right hand. “By choosing Mozart, she tells us much about herself. Mozart is beautiful and harmonic but also technically perfect. Every note fits neatly into its little box. That leads me to the conclusion that Lady Jane needs everything to be in order, that she’s a ‘no mess’ type of female. Wonderful for running a household and raising well-adjusted children. Stratford could do well selecting her.”
An image of Geoffrey smiling at Jane over the breakfast table, of the two of them standing arm in arm as they watched their children playing at the hearth, pierced Liliana. She shook her head to clear the vision.
Moderate applause signaled the end of the performance. Lady Stratford introduced Lady Ann Manchester, another blond beauty, who took her place at the square piano.
Beethoven sang from the instrument as Lady Ann deftly fingered the keys.
A subtle scent tickled Liliana’s nose. Spice and mint. Geoffrey. Warmth flooded her. Was he somewhere near? Liliana shifted in her seat to search for him, but Aveline touched her arm and she turned back toward him.
“Lady Ann, however, has chosen Herr Ludwig,” he remarked, seemingly oblivious to her sudden tension. “Where Mozart is neat, Beethoven is elemental. Powerful, emotional, very messy…but also very exciting. Having Lady Ann for wife might not promise a smoothly run life, but it would be worth it in other areas.”
Liliana shot Aveline a quelling look, but his gaze was fixed on the apparently very messy Lady Ann. An image of Geoffrey grabbing Lady Ann, pressing her against the bookshelves in the library and kissing her with unreserved passion flashed through Liliana’s mind. She swallowed, perturbed by the rush of sensual memory that crashed over her as she remembered Geoffrey’s taste upon her own lips. How his hands had roamed over her—
Lady Ann finished to applause. Liliana turned her hands to touch her heated face. Geoffrey’s scent lingered in her nose, very real and not just a figment of her memory. She glanced to the other side of Aveline, but of course Geoffrey wasn’t there. He must be behind her somewhere. Could he have heard Aveline’s indelicate commentary? Mortification heated her face another degree. What Geoffrey must think if he did.
Lady Emily Morton was next to perform. Given that Liliana knew the countess to be parading potential brides in front of her son, Geoffrey must prefer blondes. The thought disgruntled her. She wondered if Lady Emily—tall, graceful, nearly flaxen haired and so very different from herself—was what Geoffrey looked for in a woman.
Lady Emily tipped the harp back and cradled it between her knees.
“Now, that one is pure trouble,” Aveline pointed out. “See how she uses the harp as an excuse to show a bit of her slim ankle?” He tsked. “A flashy one, her. I’ll bet—”
“Do stop,” Liliana hissed, closing her eyes against a vision of Lady Emily flashing Geoffrey her— “I am attempting to enjoy the music.” And she didn’t want Geoffrey to think any worse, as she was now quite certain he sat directly behind her. Her entire back tingled with awareness.
Aveline raised his brows. “Not imperturbable, then,” he murmured and remained blessedly quiet for the remainder of the performance as well as through a rather shaky flutist and one frightful vocal performance. Liliana could hardly focus. Her body was alive with sensation. It was as if her very core responded to Geoffrey’s perceived nearness.
She tapped her slippered foot briskly, warmth making her uncomfortably fidgety. And what was this twinge of dreadful envy? Why should the idea of Geoffrey with any of these women bother her? He was nothing to her, for goodness’ sake, save for the means to discovering the truth about her father’s death.
After the sad aria, Lady Stratford called for an intermission.
“Still flushed, I see,” Aveline noted. “Shall I fetch you another glass of champagne?”
“Yes, please,” Liliana answered, the smile feeling brittle on her face. As he departed, she gripped her hands tightly together, hoping she’d been mistaken and that Geoffrey was nowhere near.
“Which composer’s piece would you play, then, Liliana?” came Geoffrey’s rich voice. He was behind her, as she’d known he would be.
Liliana startled anyway, gasping as she turned. His lips pressed into something not quite a grin, but he was clearly amused. Blast. He had heard all.
“How long have you been sitting there?” she asked, afraid of—yet knowing—the answer.
“Since the performances began.”
Wonderful. Embarrassment bloomed, even though it was not she who’d made the provocative comments.
“But…I thought you were the judge of this contest.”
“I am,” he grumbled, his tone clearly put out. “I escaped the front row by telling Mother my presence distracted the performers.”
Liliana nodded. She could certainly understand that.
“But you didn’t answer my question,” Geoffrey pressed. “Which composer would you have chosen?”
“I don’t play.” She gripped the back of Aveline’s chair, where her arm rested in her twisted position.
“But if you did? Humor me.”
“Truly, I have no idea,” she said. “Music never was my forte.”
“Come now, Liliana,” Geoffrey cajoled. “Surely there is a composer you favor over all others.”
She hated answering when she was unsure of the subject matter. But she could see he would pester her until she responded. “Handel, I should think.” She blurted out the first composer to come to mind.
“I see,” Geoffrey said in a way that left Liliana wondering what exactly it was he thought he did see. “Interesting choice.” Geoffrey brought one long-fingered hand to his mouth and rested his first two digits just below his bottom lip. He cocked a raven brow. “Handel never married, did he?”
“I have no idea,” she answered. What an odd observation. Geoffrey must have marriage on the mind—well, how could he not, considering his guest list and how doggedly he was being pursued?
“Perhaps Aveline’s interpretations have merit after all,” he said.
Liliana tilted her head. “Pardon?”
Geoffrey leaned forward, resting elbows on knees. “You chose Handel, a composer whose life mirrors your own.”
“I don’t see—”
“Handel’s family insisted he forget music and pursue law, a more practical gentleman’s pursuit. His mother alone encouraged his musical aspirations, yet he went on to arguably create one of the most memorable contributions to musical history with his Messiah. And,” he pointed out, “Handel paved the way for composers after him. In fact, Beethoven himself has said Handel was the greatest composer to ever live.”