Page 96 of The Duke of Seduction
She still loved him. Even if he hated her. Which he might after what she’d done that afternoon.
She’d escaped to her room to compose herself before her parents had arrived home, but a short time later, her father—her father—had come up to see her. She said she wanted to report Haywood’s crime to Bow Street. Her father had been supportive and patient, and he’d insisted on accompanying her. Not just because he had to, but because he wanted to stand at her side. She’d appreciated it very much.
Afterward, they’d come home and spent a quiet afternoon and evening. They’d even played cards together after dinner. She didn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed their company so much. Her melancholy remained, however, as she wondered how Beck had reacted to Bow Street’s visit.
The Runner had told her he would go and talk to him. They needed to hear his testimony about what Haywood had said. She expected he was furious with her. The question was how furious. Angry enough to call off the wedding?
Terrified she was making a mistake, she’d wondered if she should do the same. She barely understood his moods and emotions.
But the thought of not being with him made the melancholy worse. She recalled what he’d said, that he couldn’t imagine a future without her. Well, she didn’t want one without him.
The strains of a melody drifted to her, like an echo on the wind. She opened her eyes, not even aware she’d closed them, and set down her brush to listen.
The sound grew louder. Was it coming from outside?
She stood and went to the window, squinting down onto the street. There, standing in the light of the lamp, was Beck. Strumming his guitar.
She opened the sash and pushed at the window.
And he was singing.
His voice, as she’d suspected, was beautiful. A rich baritone that hummed across her skin and burrowed into her soul. The words were for her—of love and the future and a light so bright, it blinded him.
She turned to her bedside table and reached for her glasses. Sliding them onto her face, she returned to the window and leaned out to listen. He played and sang, and she fell in love with him all over again.
He finished, pausing for just a moment, then started again. Was he just going to play the song over and over? As much as she wanted to listen to it over and over, she wanted something else more.
She went to the armoire and found a dressing gown. Wrapping it tightly around herself and tying the sash, she raced down two flights of stairs and flew across the hall. The footman barely made it to the door to open it in time.
When she went outside, Beck was still playing. The night was cool and damp with the promise of rain.
She walked out to the pavement and leaned against the railing to listen to the song once more. This time when he finished, he lowered his guitar and came toward her.
“Should I keep playing?” he asked.
“Yes!” a neighbor from across the street called from her front door.
“Don’t stop!” came another call from the house to their left.
Lavinia giggled. “I’m afraid you may be in trouble now that your secret’s out.”
“What secret is that?”
“Your talent with the guitar—and your voice.” She mock-scowled at him. “You lied to me. You’re a wonderful singer. You promised you wouldn’t lie.”
His brows arched. “And I didn’t. Perception is everything. I think I’m a terrible singer, just as I think you in spectacles is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And just as I see that I was an ass.” He tipped his head to the side and then righted it once more. “Rather, I seeyourperception that I was an ass. I still think I was maybe right.”
She tensed, unsure of what that meant. “Are you angry with me?”
He shook his head. “I was. But I understand why you did it, and why it was the right thing to do. For everyone. Most of all for me. I think you were right that the darkness would claim me.”
She moved toward him and touched his face, gently stroking her fingertips along his jaw, which was rough with the onset of his beard. “I wouldn’t let it. I will never let it.”
“Does that mean you’re still going to marry me?”
“Of course. Assuming you still want me to.”
He arched a brow. “My song didn’t persuade you? Damn, I really am terrible.”
