Madrigals And Mistletoe Read Free Page A

side and take a deep breath before she began. Impossible! She could take the breath, but she needed her hands to read the score. Time seemed to be racing by and the whole chamber had become significantly silent:
    Feeling as if she was rushing headlong over a precipice, she turned to the elegant Captain Sanderson and inclined her head.
    The music began, and suddenly shaking from head to foot, the younger Miss Camfrey opened her mouth to sing. Too late she realised how unsuitable the melancholy piece was for her own, untried soprano. It required suspensions between melody and bass that even the most gifted singer would have found challenging. After striking the wrong key, far too high for the accompaniment, she faltered, of a mind to begin again. Her face was whiter than the cream satin she’d chosen to effect and several of her auburn tendrils had worked their way loose from her pearl pinned topknot. Only her eyes were defiant as she trembled on the low notes and sang, “Forever,” hopelessly flat.
    Cordelia ached for her sister and turned, hoping to make her way quietly to the front. When the performance was over, she would take Seraphina briskly in hand and urge Lord Winthrop to have the carriage sent round. Her eyes flickered upward to meet the unwavering ones of the nonpareil she’d encountered earlier. She caught a hint of amused sympathy in his expression, before he quietly gestured her to resume her seat. Cordelia never did know why she obeyed, but unhesitatingly she did.
    With a few short strides, the stranger somehow forced his way through the riveted throng. A startled Seraphina found her hand gently clasped in a grip of comforting strength. Then, before she had a moment to take a single disastrous note more, the gentleman smiled eloquently and set the key, his tenor a fine mask to the lady’s halting attempts. The duet prospered, Seraphina taking enormous comfort from the dark stranger at her side. When she missed a bar or could not catch the text fast enough, he covered for her with smooth, unfaltering aplomb.
    Finally—it seemed forever—the ordeal was at an end. Miss Camfrey held her head high and bit her lip, for she was in full expectation of being society’s little joke for the rest of the season. In this, she was mistaken, for the burst of applause that met her ears seemed quite unaccountable. Cordelia was by her side in an instant, bewildered and unutterably grateful for the gentleman’s intervention.
    He would brook no thanks, however, claiming it as his privilege to have served such a beautiful maiden. At this, Seraphina positively preened, but Cordelia looked at the gentleman suspiciously, the hint of a blush on her personable cheeks. The gentleman’s eyes had never left her own and she had the giddying sensation that she was the maiden of whom he spoke. She shook herself sternly, for there was no good to be gained by such speculation.
    â€œI must add my gratitude to my sister’s, sir!”
    â€œMust you?” His eyes looked whimsical and intensely black. Cordelia felt he must see her heart hammering through the dove grey satin and intricate lace overdress. He didn’t, for he was concentrating on the pink flesh that spilled becomingly out of the gown rather than on the fabric itself.
    He drew her slightly aside and lowered his voice. “I trust you intend leaving?”
    Cordelia nodded.
    â€œMay I ask that you stay, rather?” He drew her aside confidentially and Cordelia felt the warmth of his hand through his fine leather gloves. When he released her, the warmth remained, a burning patch on her satin clad arm.
    â€œAfter this debacle I feel we should leave. Perhaps it is a matter of the least said, the sooner mended. If we stay, we are bound to invite malicious gabble mongering.” Cordelia could not for the life of her discover why she was making these confidences to a stranger. Perhaps it was his warm regard or the quiet,