Julia had made a great start on winning over Mrs. Hartwood, a woman who could help her become a fixture in Brighton society one day if she cultivated a friendship with her.
“I do agree,” Julia enthused. “Mr. George would make a wonderful husband indeed.”
Melanie set her cup aside, waiting, bracing herself for the suggestion that a match be made between her and Walter, since they were so well acquainted. She lifted her gaze slowly.
“I think Miss Langston would be perfect,” Mrs. Hartwood suggested.
“There is always Miss Harrow, and of course Miss Enid Vickers has many fine qualities.” Julia shook her head. “What do you think, Melanie? You’ve known Mr. George much longer than I have. Who do you think he should marry?”
That was a question she’d never been able to answer to her own satisfaction and it troubled her now. “I’ve known him perhaps a year longer on account of my being marginally older than you.”
Such a good and amiable man should have married already. Over the past weeks, she’d come to appreciate Walter. He deserved the perfect wife. But now that she had heard the names of other young ladies thrown about as a match for him, she was outraged on his behalf. Those young ladies would never do.
“Well, I have no doubts he’s considering making a match now.” Mrs. Hartwood beamed. “Did you hear he’s given thought to having children? There are not too many gentlemen so obviously meant to be a father as our Mr. George. My grandson’s adore his visits, as do many of the young boys living about us. He’s always so very tolerant of their requests he join their games, no matter how silly.”
Melanie’s heart squeezed tight. The moment Walter had spoken of children at dinner, she’d known he was eager for a family of his own. He was always tossing a ball back to some boy or little girl. Kindness was so very easy for him that children adored him. He would be a good father.
When the gentlemen joined them and much teasing ensued between the married couples, she tried not to stare at him. Seated opposite her, Walter seemed so far away. So very different, and yet the more she considered, the more she saw that their interests and attitudes were very similar.
In everything but the one area that would matter so much to him. Children.
Mr. Hartwood approached her and she forced herself to put that unsettling word into its proper place.
“Would you do an old man the honor of a performance on the pianoforte, my dear?” he asked. “I have not heard you play in many months and I am lonely for the sound.”
“We all are,” Walter agreed quietly.
Valentine and Julia nodded, clearly eager for her to accept and keep their guests happy. “Please play for us,” Julia pleaded.
Although she hadn’t intended to become the center of attention, she stood. “I should be delighted to.”
If she were playing, she might not have to think of Walter with a family of his own. The idea of him kissing another woman unsettled her a great deal. She chose a long piece and commenced to play, losing herself in the melody until the very last notes. When she finished, Mr. Hartwood was satisfied and he and his wife took their leave.
“Do stay where you are, Melanie,” Julia gushed. “I do not hear you play enough anymore since we are out so often.”
Valentine stood and kissed Julia’s cheek. “I’m going to make one last search for that tune I told you about and then it’s our turn to play.”
She picked another, shorter piece and set about playing. Walter settled in a chair close by and set his hands behind his head. “If I had my way, I’d tear a hole in the wall so I could hear you play more clearly.”
Her heart filled with dread at his suggestion. “Valentine plays as well,” Melanie reminded him.
“I need to stuff wool in my ears for those times.”
Julia huffed. “And here I was thinking you a fair man all night.”
He winked at Melanie. “God-awful racket he kicks up. It is so easy to tell the difference.”
“You don’t mean that,” Melanie argued as she fumbled her way through a difficult passage that hadn’t troubled her for a long time. A blush was threatening to cover her from head to toe, all from the compliments Walter continued to shower over her and she did not deserve even one. “Valentine plays well. He would be better if he played more often though.”
“Not in your league,” Walter insisted. “No doubt about that.”
Melanie fixed her attention on her sheet music, but she could not seem to perform to her own high standards anymore.
Valentine hurried in, waving a sheet of music in the air. “Here it is, stuck between the covers of another tune.”
Melanie drew the piece to a close and stood, keen to allow the married couple free use of the instrument. It was theirs. Her brother and his wife met at the pianoforte and squeezed onto the same stool and Melanie moved to sit and listen.
“They’ve been looking for that duet all week so they might play together,” she explained to Walter.