A Little Bit Sinful(40)

“My Aunt Maureen is not overly fond of him either, but she knows how I feel about him.”

“And how is that, Clarissa, do you love him?”

“I believe that I could love him.”

“That’s not really the same thing, is it?”

“No, I don’t suppose it is. But people marry all the time without love.”

“A pity,” he said.

What did he mean by that? That he intended to marry for love? Her insides knotted and her palms began to itch with perspiration. They fell quiet for several moments before she spoke again. “What did you mean the other night when you said my piano playing was passionate?”

“I can tell from how you move with the music that it’s inside you, that you love it. It lights you up,” he said. “You play effortlessly.”

“Thank you,” she said and realized she fully meant it. He’d given her a lovely compliment.

“Your passion is evident. I could see it on your face, the way your body moved, the way your fingers flew over the keys. I very much enjoyed watching you play.”

“You’re not supposed to watch me, you’re supposed to listen, hear the music.” Was what he said true? Was it so obvious to others that she felt the music inside of her as if the notes were an extension of her bones? She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. A lady was not supposed to be so transparent, let alone so brazen. Then again, when it came to Justin, she had long since past the point of what a lady was supposed to do. Not only that, but being the perfect lady, or at least behaving as one, had certainly not gotten her where she’d wanted to be.

“I did listen” His voice was pitched low and sent a shiver through her. “Mozart, correct?”

That surprised her. “Yes, that’s right.”

“It surprises you that I know that,” he said. “You should remember, Clarissa, I was raised in a household much like your own. I am a bastard by birth, but only because my father was a liar and a cheater.”

There was hardness to his words. He was angry and she couldn’t fault him for that. He deserved to be angry with his father. He’d been furious with his father since she’d known Justin. It seemed he had not let go of his anger towards his father, but he had learned how to temper himself. The circumstances of his birth hadn’t been his own fault. Still society deemed that those of illegitimate blood were not true aristocrats no matter who their father was. “And your mother, the woman who raised you, you said she was a music teacher?”

He inclined his head. “Yes, before she moved to England.” Some of the tension left his shoulders. “She taught in Paris.”

“Your brother, are you two close?”

“We are now. Haven’t always been. Roe is doing the title much more justice than our father did, though he would never admit as much.”

“He’s a noted gambler,” she said. Funny that he would criticize George when his own brother had such disregard for his position in society.

“He’s a gifted card player.”

“You can say it with more polite words, but it doesn’t make the truth any less true. He’s a gambler, just as George obviously is.” Again silence surrounded them and Clarissa was left wondering what they’d see when their journey ended. The lights of London shone outside of her window. They were getting close.

“You are correct, of course. But I think you’ll see soon the full truth about George, not merely the penchant for wagering.”

“Perhaps. What is it about placing wagers that is so very thrilling for me?” she asked.

“I gambled some in school. Thought it wasn’t much of a gamble because I rarely lost. It’s how I raised the money to start Rodale’s. So I don’t have much desire to bet and gamble, as it were. Though I do know something about you I’d wager.”

“Indeed, and what would that be?”

“You would be a most passionate lover. I suspect no one else has recognized that in you. And I knew it, saw it in you even before we ever kissed.”

“You are scandalous.” But his words heated over her as if he’d reached across the carriage and touched her. Here in this darkened carriage where no one could see and yet he’d said things about the music and her playing as if he’d seen her, the real her, in a way that no one ever had.

“Perhaps. But no one can play the piano like that and not be a passionate person. It burns inside you, Clarissa, you merely need the right man to free it from its binds,” he said.