But with his daughter present, unintentionally acting as their chaperone, the duet would have to do to begin with.
Gillian commenced to play, her fingers lightly tripping over the keys and producing the most wondrous of sensations in him. He had played the piece before, and found his place and began, playing against her lightness with his own music.
From the outset of their acquaintance, Nicolas had struggled not to read too much into their similarities. They both played the pianoforte exceptionally well, enjoyed the quiet, had similar tastes in books and, by all accounts, Gillian skated. Something he liked to do often when the lake froze over. Unfortunately, the weather had not yet been conducive to an outing until now.
“The head groundsman feels it safe to mount a skating expedition tomorrow,” he murmured.
Jessica applauded then leaned against the instrument. “I cannot wait to show Gillian our special place.”
He peeked at the companion, hoping to see interest. Mrs. Thorpe’s fingers flew over the keys, but her lower lip was gripped between her teeth.
He leaned a little toward her. “Do say you will come skating with us.”
“Yes, do come,” Jessica said, beaming with excitement. “You said you skated every day as a girl. Maybe you have a better chance of keeping up with Papa than I do.”
Gillian blushed. “I have long since lost my skill, but if I must fall down in public for your amusement, I surely will come with you.”
“I would never let you fall,” Nicolas promised, grinning from ear to ear. “Some experiences are not easily forgotten. A little practice and you’ll be fine. Indeed, I am very eager to see if you are as competent a partner on the ice as your reference from Lady Holsworthy suggested.”
She blushed. “I’ll do my best, your grace, but I am not to blame if Lady Holsworthy’s praise far exceeded my actual skills.”
“I’ve never been disappointed in you,” he promised.
They finished the duet in silence, Nicolas aware that he was very eager for tomorrow. He too had spent many days flying around the ice on his own as a child. It was an escape, much like riding very fast, with only his own will powering his direction. He should like to see if he could impress Gillian.
She stood quickly when they reached the end of the piece. “If you would excuse us, your grace. Mrs. Warner and Mrs. Hawthorne are expecting Jessica at any moment in the drawing room.”
“A moment,” Nicolas said to delay her flight. Since Jessica had already turned for the door, he pitched his voice low. “You did not make our standing appointment last night. I was sorry to have missed speaking with you about my daughter.”
She lowered her face. “I apologize, your grace. Jessica and I talked very late.”
He studied her face, unsure if that was the truth or not. He didn’t want to push her into his company, but he’d have to eventually. He relied on Thorpe to keep him apprised of Jessica’s moods and whims. He could not have her avoiding him out of fear. “I would like to speak to you in private this morning then.”
“Of course.” She appeared nervous but nodded. “Let me escort Jessica, and then I will return in half an hour.”
“To my study, if you please.” Nicolas turned away, pulse jumping with nervousness and excitement. Avoiding each other could become tedious. They could not go on this way. “I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter 6
Gillian’s heart beat wildly as she stood alone in Stapleton’s quiet study, toying with the braiding on one of the two visitors’ chairs placed before his desk. She had always spoken to her employer at night, long after his inquisitive daughter had retired to her bed, and she felt incredibly guilty for failing to meet with him last night. She’d been afraid to come lest he test her resolve to ignore his appeal.
She still wasn’t sure she could. Ignoring Stapleton had been difficult enough seated beside him on the pianoforte, even with Jessica in the room. She knew what he wanted when he smiled at her so warmly. More kisses and other things.
Gillian was afraid and a fool. She might not be able to deny him when she wanted to be held in his arms again. It had been wrong but heavenly. She hoped she could get through this meeting without stammering or blushing.
“Forgive me for not being here when you arrived, Mrs. Thorpe,” Stapleton began as he strode into the room. “Guests chatter incessantly. Please sit.”
Gillian sank into a chair opposite his desk, expecting, hoping, he’d sit in his usual place behind it so she could calm her racing heart.
He chose the other chair, the one at her side before the desk, but clenched his hands together between his spread knees. His face was so serious that she felt weak with dread. “I wonder if I owe you an apology,” he whispered.
She swallowed. “For what?”
“I don’t ordinarily respond to dares, but for my behavior, I can offer no other explanation or excuse. It is embarrassing to me now that you might have felt pressured to let me have my way.”
His apology pained her because it was so unnecessary. “I could easily have stopped you.”
He stared, and then a corner of his lips lifted in a slow smile. “And you did quite the opposite.”