A Wicked Wager (Avenging Lords 2)

He unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The sight of the grand piano sitting alone in the corner of the large, empty room sent his pulse racing. The wing-shaped case and the warmth of the walnut wood drew him closer. What he called the music room was in truth a ballroom with polished oak floors and a set of double doors leading out into the garden. It was a room meant for pleasure. A room meant for music.

During the years spent abroad, he had enjoyed listening to the strange tunes that rang through the bustling bazaars. The drums, sitars, the sarangi, odd-shaped pipes that produced unique sounds unlike anything he’d heard before.

Devlin moved closer and ran his hands over the smooth wood covering the keys. Then he rolled up his shirtsleeves, took his seat on the bench and flexed his fingers.

He played the compositions he remembered, let the music flow through his body. He played the pieces he’d composed as a younger man when he’d dreamed of entertaining excited throngs. The more he played, the more the notes breathed life into every fibre of his being.

But something drew his attention away from his music. Something infinitely more powerful drew his attention towards the door.

He saw her then—Juliet—gripping the jamb with her slender fingers, her wide eyes watching him, mesmerised, enthralled.

Their gazes locked.

She gasped, shrank back into the shadows.

Devlin jumped up from the padded bench. “Wait. Don’t go. Please, come and join me.”

Juliet hesitated, but then slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside. “I did not mean to spy. I did not mean to invade your privacy, but I heard the music and simply had to come.” She smiled. “You play beautifully.”

No one had ever bestowed such praise. Men lacked the heart for music. Large men were cumbersome and clunky on the keys.

Knowing that the voice in his head sought to ruin the moment, he shifted his awareness back to his heart.

“My fingers are not as nimble as they used to be.”

“Who taught you to play like that?”

Juliet closed the door and moved farther into the room. She wore the same ugly brown dress she’d worn to dinner. It was dull, poorly fitted, yet her radiance shone through. No wonder Miss Bromfield banished her sister to the servants’ quarters. The woman despised competition.

“I taught myself one year while my parents were travelling abroad.” He closed the gap between them, his slow movements like the first steps of a seductive dance. “One can master most things if one is willing to practise.”

“I would say you have a natural gift, a talent, an ear for music.”

She was alone in her judgement, but he was not about to wallow in self-pity. “It has been many years since I last played.”

“Because you were abroad?”

“Partly.”

With wide eyes, she twirled around and surveyed the room. The moonlight streaming in through the terrace doors illuminated the renaissance paintings on the ceiling and the detailed architrave that gave the place an ethereal air.

“Mrs Barbary misled me when she said this was the music room.”

“My parents rarely used it for its intended purpose. They were rather pious people, interested in assisting those in need not pandering to those who live life to excess.” Consequently, they were harsh to their privileged children, judgemental.

“Heavens. I imagine they would turn in their graves to learn you married a woman born out of wedlock.”

Devlin raised a brow. “It would be nothing compared to what they would do if they knew of the unholy things said about my brother.”

Juliet’s gaze fell. “I’m sorry Hannah feels it necessary to be so spiteful. I doubt anyone believes her.”

The same morbid questions entered Devlin’s head.

But now was not the time to dwell on the past. He would search for the letters in the morning, discover what he needed to know, rip out the snake’s fangs so she could not infect others with her venomous diatribe.

“We can discuss the matter tomorrow.” He gestured to the empty space. “It seems a pity to waste the time we have here on something that causes us both such anguish.”