Amelia Read Free Page A

Amelia."
    Amelia got up obediently and went to the piano. She couldn't look at King as she passed him, but she felt his eyes on her every step of the way. Disconcerted by the unblinking scrutiny, her slender hands trembled on the keyboard as she began to play, and she made one mistake after another.
    The sudden slam of Hartwell Howard's fist on the flawless finish of the cherry side table made Amelia jump. "For God's sake, girl, stop banging away at the wrong keys!" Hartwell roared, disconcerting his host and hostess, not to mention Amelia. "Play it properly!"
    She took a steadying breath. Her father's temper had a visible effect on her. But behind it, she knew, there was something much worse than temper. She shot a quick glance at him. Yes, his eyes were glazed, and he was holding his head. Not tonight, she prayed. Please don't let him die here… !
    "Well, what are you waiting for?" her father raged.
    "Possibly for you to stop, so that she can concentrate on her music," King remarked. His voice was pleasant enough, but the look that accompanied it made Hartwell stiffen.
    As if he realized that he'd overstepped himself, Hartwell sat back on the sofa. He touched his temple and frowned as if he were trying to think. He glanced at Amelia. "Go ahead, daughter, play for us," he said, and for an instant he was the kind, sweet father she'd adored.
    She smiled and let her hands rest on the keys. Then she began to play. The soft, building strains of the "Moonlight Sonata" filled the room, swelled like the tide, ebbed and flowed as she let the music become an expression of the turmoil and pain and longing in her own heart.
    When she finished, even her father was silent.
    She looked up into turbulent silver eyes that were far too close. She hadn't heard him move.
    "You have a gift, Miss Howard," he said quietly and with faint surprise. "It was a privilege to hear you."
    "Yes, indeed," Enid enthused. "I had no idea you were so talented, my dear!"
    Other praise fell on deaf ears. Amelia had heard nothing past the soft words King had spoken. But beyond that was the darkness growing again in her father's eyes as he finished his drink and his host rose to refill his glass. Her heart raced with fear.
    "May I be excused, do you think?" Amelia asked Enid quickly.
    "Nonsense," Hartwell said coldly. "You'll stay and be sociable, my girl."
    "Papa, if you please," she tried again, her dark eyes wide with apprehension.
    "I do not please," he replied. His eyes were growing glassier. "Remember your promise to obey me, Amelia," he added with a soft warning, and his face tautened.
    She could hardly forget when the promise had been made and the fierce blow which had prompted it. But now, Quinn was nearby. She had to remember that. If she were careful, and smart, she could circumvent her father's violent outburst. She'd done it before, many times. She knew of only one way.
    "Alan, you promised to show me the roses, did you not?" she improvised with a shy smile in the younger man's direction. No one could see, in her position, the desperation in her eyes.
    "Indeed," Alan replied. "Shall we, my dear?" And he proffered his arm.
    She took it with cold, numb fingers, smiling as she followed him blindly from the room, dreading the impact of her father's voice if he objected. But she was betting that he would not. This was what he wanted.
    And miraculously, he did not object. He turned and began discussing the weather with his host. He wanted Amelia to become involved with Alan. He had in mind a merger of families. Naturally he didn't protest.
    "I'll join you, if you don't mind," King said lazily, and fell into step beside them.
    He pulled an imported cigar from his pocket and struck a match to light it. In the glow, his face had a hardness that Amelia had never encountered in any other man. But patently, he didn't approve of her friendship with Alan. Perhaps he sensed her father's plan and intended to put a quick end to it. Certainly, his opinion of her was