Read Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] for Free Online Page B

viscount remained unfazed. “I will not let go, and think how ridiculous it would look for you to be seen dragging me out of the room behind you. Trust me, Your Grace, you will enjoy this.”
    Harbison’s announcement precluded further discussion, much less an escape.
    “This evening I will introduce to you a lady whose reputation is not yet fully appreciated here in England. None other than the renowned concertmaster and teacher, Signor Ponto, has declared her voice to be one of the finest in all of Europe.” With a gesture to the woman standing below him, Harbison announced, “Signora Elena Verano.”
    The viscount had not let go of Meryon’s arm, but Lord William could not stand still, constantly bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Meryon caught his eye and Lord William stilled, dropped his hand, and climbed onto a nearby chair for a clear view over the crowd.
    The silence lengthened. Meryon turned toward the stage, where he found the Signora looking at the crowd, smiling, waiting for complete attention.
    She had his. Before him stood the woman he had just met and already kissed, one of the loveliest women he had ever seen.
    Even though she stood on the other side of a noisy, crowded room he could not take his eyes off her any more than he could stop watching a beautiful sunrise.
    Of course, her husband, Edward, must be Eduardo Verano. His mastery of the violin was legendary. Meryon had heard him years ago, before the war, when youth had kept him from fully appreciating Verano’s talent.
    Leave. Leave now
. Meryon did not want to hear the song, or rather her voice. It was too easy to imagine it, powerful, evocative and, above all, too filled with emotion.
    He stayed as if rooted to the spot.
    With a gesture to the orchestra, she began. SignoraVerano’s voice was not what he expected. It did not have the power for an opera hall, but in a space like this it reached every ear and every heart.
    The last of the whispers stopped as the first notes floated out, but he might as well have been alone with her in the room. She sang with her eyes closed but he still felt her singing to him, only him.
    Although she sang in Italian, Meryon needed no translation. Her voice gave the words all the meaning they needed.
    Passion filled the air. Promise poured from her, mixed with a happiness—no, more than that—a
euphoria
that spoke of intimacy so complete that his whole body responded.
    Meryon felt as though she were continuing their conversation, assuring
him
life would go on, even more fully than before. Joy now enriched by experience. Loss gave a deeper meaning to passion.
    Her voice made his kiss a weak and tentative consolation. Oh, how he wanted to show her what a kiss could be.
    Her husband had written this, surely. After they had made love. The music filled the air with such exuberant satisfaction that he could only imagine what they had shared.
    When she finished, the room exploded into applause. Meryon joined them, glancing at Lord William, who was cheering and applauding with an enthusiasm that announced he knew her better than most. Lord William flashed a grin at Meryon, who raised his hands, still clapping, acknowledging her excellence, even as he wondered how the Signora and the viscount had met.
    Signora Verano curtsied a little, smiling and appreciative, with an air of apology for having sung a song of such intensity in public, relieved they were not offended.
    The next song began with an orchestral introduction. It was a joy-filled air that intrigued the listeners as it was so at odds with Signora Verano’s expression. The orchestra stopped playing and he watched her draw a breath before continuing
a cappella
.
    Leave
, he commanded himself.
Leave, before she breaks your heart
. Looking neither left nor right, Meryon stepped away and into the now empty hall before her voice could draw him back.

5

    E LENA SAW HIM leave the room. How could he? He had recognized her; she knew he had, as she had known