She turned back to the piano. For if she was going to play this night she needed to practice.
And she needed to chase the shadows of the Duke of Stone away.
She would have to find a way to hide her feelings and never let them rule her again.
Chapter Twenty-One
He did not have a list.
Jack was going to murder him and rightly so, but he had spent the entire day going over every single lord that he could possibly think of and could come up with no one who was worthy of her.
It was that simple. And that terrible.
Jack deserved someone who would support her dreams and make her life wonderful. But as far as he could tell, not a single man of his acquaintance would do that for her.
Gentlemen did not, in general, put their wives first. And he was in a quandary, because he couldn’t imagine putting Jack into a position in which she had to give up on herself. And that, no matter what anyone said, was what ladies were required to do.
Many ladies did not question the way of things, but Jack was a specific case. She had dreams and desires that were outside the allowances of most of the ladies that he knew and had matched.
And somehow he could not reconcile himself to that.
It was tearing him apart.
Yet, he found as he stood in the salon of Lady Scofield’s grand house that he had a far more interesting dilemma.
Jack might notneeda list from him.
As her soaring, passionate notes filled the air, he stood in the doorway, watching the audience become as transfixed as he had been that very morning by her abilities.
The notes of Dido and Aeneas’s lament surrounded them with a deep melancholy that left tears in the ladies’ eyes, and many a gentleman was leaning forward, eyes wide, stunned by Jack’s power.
The deep ache of each phrase filled him with waves of need and longing. The very air seemed to change, and not a single whisper could be heard.
Everyone watched,captivated.
She had never needed lessons. Jack had always had that capability within her.
The audience was all but breathless.
Usually, a lady of thetonwas not supposed to have a unique talent that made her stand out thus. Such a thing was generally considered to be a detraction, not an attraction. But not so with Jack. Her music was moving everyone to such a degree that he could see that gentlemen were falling at her feet with each note.
It was not real love, of course.
Oh no, it would be poetic nonsense in which gentlemen would lay their coats down upon puddles before her. No doubt they’d call upon her in the morning, bouquets in hand, professing that they would give her whatever she desired. They would insist they would write canons of their love to her fingers, her ears, and her ability to play.
But it wouldn’t be the kind of love that Jack deserved. No, they wouldn’t everknowher, and no doubt they would wish to keep her for themselves. Like a treasure to be shown on display.
An object.
They would not wish her to pursue her music with the sort of passion that she desired. No, her skill would be a reflection oftheirpower. Of their prowess.
Jack would not be free with those kinds of men.
Men who were self-absorbed. It was maddening, and he did not know what to do. But he was pleased for her that at last she was beingseen, that people were finally recognizing how magnificent she was.
He’d known it from the moment she’d re-entered his life. If he was honest, he’d even known it when she was a girl.
Bloody hell.