Page 21 of The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart
Ella shivered against him. Again, a strange flurry of electricity burst up and down his spine. Peter scraped his fingers down his neck, wondering where on earth this came from. “Keep it up,” he told her. “Remember that it was only the first round. We’ve loads of time left before the wedding. I don’t think we can possibly lose.”
Chapter 10
The dinner party guests followed behind Tatiana and Frederick like a flock of birds. They approached the parlour, where the maids had laid out a selection of drinks and light cookies. The pianoforte gleamed in the corner, formidable, almost demanding someone to play it. Ella’s eyes turned towards Peter, sensing something brewing. It was as though they were suddenly linked, each conscious of the other’s next step. She supposed this was what it was like to have a twin.
Although of course, she felt a strange surge in the back of her mind: something was amiss in her feelings regarding him. It felt strangely electric, charged. He turned his eyes towards her, and she shivered slightly, although she was quite sure no one had noticed. She swept her fingers across the light pink fabric of her gown, marvelling about that morning. As she’d slipped it on, she’d had a strange thought: she couldn’t wait for Peter to see her in it.
Of course, she’d actually meant Frederick, hadn’t she?
“Oh yes, Peter, you really should play!” Tatiana said, sweeping her fingers across her mouth with such a delicate motion. Ella longed to copy it, to try to take on the sort of femininity of her sister. Was it even possible? Was it simply not stitched into her personality make-up?
“We used to play endlessly with one another. When was that. Two summers ago?” Tatiana asked, speaking mostly to Frederick. “Peter would arrive, and we would serenade Mother. Ella, of course, was always upstairs, filling her head with useless knowledge. Often she would come down and rebuke us, tell us we played too loudly. Didn’t you, sweet Ella?”
“I wasn’t that wretched, was I?” Ella asked, wincing a bit at the memory. She had forgotten it, remembering now that Peter had been nearly as brilliant at Tatiana on the pianoforte. Tatiana had whispered about him endlessly at the time, wondering if he was the sort of man she craved.
“He certainly is handsome,” she’d remarked at the time. She hadn’t sounded doubtful, nor sure. It had simply been a fact, like everything else.
Peter sat upon the piano bench, twiddling his fingers over the glossy keys. The other members of the party perched on various couches. Ursula swept her long locks across her back, casting a dreamy look towards Peter. Perhaps everyone regarded him as the eligible bachelor at the party? Although, Ella reminded herself: even her mother assumed that there was something brewing between Ella and Peter.
She needed to learn to shove these thoughts from her mind.
Peter turned towards the crowd, lifting a single eyebrow. “Is everyone prepared?”
Ella brimmed with anticipation. Several women chirped their excitement. Peter didn’t wait a second more. He surged forward, dropping his fingers atop the keys. He began to sweep over them, churning from one melody to the next, playing a romantic, emotional song that Ella hadn’t heard before. As she watched, her eyes filled with tears. She blinked several times, trying to rid the tears from herself — to cast them into the back part of her head, where they came from. But as the song progressed, she grew increasingly emotional, lost in it.
By the time the song was finished, a single tear had begun to trek down her cheek. She swept at it, trying to rid it from her face. But just before she could, Peter turned quickly, catching her in the act. He gave her a rather strange look, one that seemed to suggest that she couldn’t get away with it — that she’d felt emotion, and she’d been caught.
For whatever reason, this felt strangely revealing. She felt Peter had just taken a look into the inner crevices of her soul. Had she wanted that? No, of course not. He played for Tatiana: his entire emotional core was completely and totally put forth for Tatiana.
Ella had to sit back, accept this. Beyond that, it wasn’t Peter she wanted. This, she felt sure of.
“Absolutely brilliant, Peter!” Tatiana said, standing up. She clapped her hands wildly, looking youthful, vibrant.
Frederick stood beside her, glancing towards Tatiana. His eyes seemed filled with confusion. Ella wondered if Tatiana’s exuberance confused Frederick. Certainly, Tatiana could be “a lot” to take in at times — another one of the reasons Ella felt sure that this match wasn’t entirely made in heaven.
Peter stood and bowed to the crowd. Everyone else stood, smacking their palms. Ella realised she’d forgotten to clap and hurriedly did so, a bit faster than the others, as though she needed to catch up.
“It truly was a stellar, emotional performance,” Frederick said as the claps began to filter out. He brought his hand over his heart and gazed at his cousin, his friend, with something like adoration. “It’s such a rare thing for me to hear you play.”
Peter gaped at him. Ella was conscious of a flickering of disappointment and confusion. It hadn’t been a part of the plan for Frederick to appreciate the music, Ella felt sure. He was meant to be bored, to gape at Peter until the song was complete. This was meant to divide Tatiana and Frederick increasingly, to ensure that Tatiana saw Peter as a more worthy fit.
“Really?” Peter asked, arching his brow.
“Absolutely,” Frederick said. He slipped a hand across the base of Tatiana’s back. The motion was intimate, yet sure. “Tatiana has shown me a great deal more music over the previous few months. Through her letters, she suggested various pieces for me to seek out. I attended several concerts, trying to train my ear. And I regret to say, I’ve wasted years not knowing about the grand power of music.”
Peter struggled to maintain his smile. Ella recognised how false it truly was. She simmered in her own anxiety, not certain about this “other” Frederick, who was so keen to take on whatever new attributes Tatiana lent him. Was he changing?
“I remember you wrote me when you attended the concerto at the university,” Tatiana said, beaming at Frederick. “You said you returned home and cried in a way you hadn’t in years.” She reached for his opposite hand, drawing it towards her. She kissed his fingers delicately.
Ella felt as though someone had reached into her stomach and begun to muddle with her insides.
“I don’t suppose you have a bit of brandy, do you, Tatiana?” Ursula asked, her voice domineering and thick. “I dare say after that music, I wouldn’t mind slipping into a bit of a different state.”
The others agreed. Tatiana suggested they retire to a separate sitting room, where coffee and brandy would be served. Tatiana and Frederick again led the charge, leading their crew into the shadows of the next room. A maid hurried forward, ready to light the candles. Ella surged towards Peter, who remained at the piano. They joined the others, yet lingered a bit in the back, whispering.
“That went horrendously,” Peter sighed.
“What do you mean? You played so beautifully…” Ella said, surprising herself with her sincerity.
