David studied the paper, a song about everlasting love. “When were you last able to sing this as written?”
Norcross seemed to find the pattern in the carpet fascinating. “I was twelve.” He looked up, his chin high. “I won a ribbon at the school talent show with it.”
David turned so Norcross couldn’t see the grin on his face, and headed for the music room, gesturing over his shoulder for the young man to follow. “Let’s fit this to the voice you have now instead of the voice you used to have.”
Three hours later, Norcross went on his way, still practicing the tune they had generally revised down one octave, and David sat at the pianoforte with papers and pencil, engrossed in trying to finish composing the tune Ashley had written down for him. He paused when a maid carried in a tray with covered dishes and a tea service, gingerly stepping over the wadded-up balls of paper littering the floor on her way to the side table. “I don’t recall requesting anything.”
“Beg pardon, my lord,” the maid said, removing one cover to reveal a plate with beefsteak and diced potatoes, still steaming. “Mr. Gilroy requested it for you.” She curtsied and left, passing Liam as he entered the room unannounced.
“It appears I have excellent timing.” Liam popped a bite of potato in his mouth. “Mmm, rosemary. Tasty.” He ate two more and reached for the knife and fork to cut into the steak.
David looked at him askance.
“What? You said you’d feed me.”
“I said you could move in. Said nothing about feeding you,” David teased.
“One goes with the other.” He moaned in delight as he swallowed a bite of steak.
The maid darted back in, put another place setting on the tray, bobbed a curtsy, and hurried out.
David heaved a dramatic sigh. “Looks like I have to take a break if I want any of my own food.” He tucked his pencil behind one ear, straightened the stack of papers on top of the pianoforte so none would slide to the floor, and stepped over to the table. Something about the rosemary-flavored potatoes tickled a memory though he couldn’t quite pull it out to look at it.
They ate and drank, tea for David and wine for Liam. “Not that I’m not happy to see you again so soon, but what is the occasion?”
It was Liam’s turn to heave a dramatic sigh. “The echoes from Grantham and son’s vocal lesson are still rattling around my apartment.” He shuddered in mock horror, then tossed off the last of his wine. “What was that I heard you working on when I came in?”
David sat at the pianoforte. “Something I apparently began when I was … starting to feel better.” He played what he had so far, considerably more than what Ashley had written down for him though still far from finished.
Liam gave him a little shove with his hip and sat on the bench beside him. He played it through while David listened with his eyes closed.
“The bridge,” they said in unison at the end, and turned to grin at each other. “Needs work.”
“What if…”
Chapter 17
Ashley returned Georgia’s hug in greeting as soon as she went through the reception line for the wedding breakfast at the Mansfield townhouse. The dividing wall had been drawn back to open the front parlour to the music room. Guests who had already greeted newlyweds Clarissa and Lawrence, who had been married just two hours before, chatted in clusters in the large space. Footmen circulated with trays of champagne and finger foods.
“This is a family event,” Ashley said. “I don’t know why you invited me.”
Georgia looked at her as though Ashley had just declared the sky to be primrose yellow. “Because youarefamily, you silly goose.” She hugged her again. “And by extension, that means your aunt and uncle are family, too.” Georgia waggled her fingers at Uncle Edward a few feet away, who saluted her with his champagne glass. Aunt Eunice missed the gesture, engrossed in the difficult task of selecting a delicacy from the tray a footman held before her.
Somewhat mollified and feeling slightly less out of place, Ashley accepted a glass of champagne and let Georgia lead her from one group to another, introducing her to more cousins than she could recall names, and catching up on their latest news. Many of the people she already knew from her evenings spent in Georgia’s home, for dinner and music. There was one guest in particular she kept looking for. She tried not to let her disappointment show when he seemed absent.
Had David overdone things, and was home resting? Had Gilroy removed the stitches? Had the wound become reinfected and he had a relapse? So many questions, impossible to ask when she had seen him last.
“I’m so glad you came,” Clarissa said, joining them. She gave Ashley a hug and kissed her on the cheek.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Ashley replied, ignoring Georgia’s told-you-so grin.
Someone started playing the pianoforte, though the crowd continued chattering.
“This is it,” Lawrence said, taking Clarissa by the hand. He led her toward the pianoforte.
Exchanging puzzled looks, Ashley and Georgia followed in their wake.
“Please stay here, my darling.” Lawrence kissed Clarissa’s hand and walked over to stand beside the pianoforte, where her father had started playing a tune that sounded vaguely familiar but different.
