“Did you hear me play?” she asked.
“I heard some of it,” he said.
“And?” she prompted, hoping far more than she should that he had been pleased.
A look crossed his face that was half pain, half worship. She’d never seen anything like it in all her life.
“Jack, your music is unlike anything I’ve ever heard before.” He smiled, but it was a melancholic gesture. “And it’s clear that thetonagrees.”
“It is, isn’t it?” she ventured, confused by his behavior. “I’m so thrilled by it. I think tomorrow I shan’t have to worry about an empty salon.”
“No, it will not be one of your worries,” he agreed. “Will you come with me now?”
She glanced behind his shoulder to the quiet hall. “Where would you like me to go with you?”
He drew in a breath. “I have something to show you.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“You trust me?” he asked softly.
“I do,” she replied without hesitation. “But this is most odd. I mean, I trust you enough to be alone with you in your own bedchamber, so clearly I do, but whatever is this about?”
“Let us go now while you are at the height of your victory,” he urged, “and tomorrow you will continue to be victorious.”
She laughed. “Do you have a list, then, for me?”
“That is not what I wish to show you,” he replied, stepping back into the dark, into the corridor.
“You are being most mysterious, but since you have aided me and believed in me, I suppose I shall go with you.” She slipped out into the long, silent hall and whispered, “We’re not going to cause a scandal, are we?”
“No,” he said firmly. “I promise you that I am done with scandals of that sort.”
“Good,” she replied. And with that, he gave her his arm and swept her out to the terrace, then down through the garden.
“Are you going to try to kiss me in the trees?” she teased, her heart hammering in her chest. “Because that could most definitely cause a scandal.”
“I’m not going to kiss you in the garden,” he replied.
She frowned. He was behaving so oddly. She’d known him most of her life and trusted him so thoroughly with her future, but now suspicion coaxed through her.
Something was not right. But surely he would never do anything to hurt her. The idea was sheer madness, and she shoved it away, rushing after him.
Her slippers skimmed the grass as she had to all but skip to keep up with his pace.
He led her through the shrubberies, and much to her astonishment, they came out through the garden to a road behind the Scofield house.
There, waiting on the cobbled alley, was his coach.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’d like to take you somewhere.”
“This is turning into a chapter from a rather melodramatic novel, James.” She swallowed, her gaze swinging to the coach, to him, then back the way they had come. “Should I be alarmed?”
“No,” he said, “I think you’ll be quite pleased.”
“Will I?” she breathed, hardly knowing what to expect.