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voice. She managed the lead-in well enough, then James lifted his voice in song.
    She was entranced. His voice was smoother, more powerful, more engaging than she could have imagined. It lifted her up, gave vigor to her fingers so they danced along the keys with more emotion than she’d ever been able to express. When it came time for her to join him with her part, he carried her easily with him. Their voices soared in harmony, each supporting the other.
    When the song drew to a close, unexpected tears tingled in her eyes, put there by the sheer beauty of what they had achieved together. For a moment they just stared at one another, cocooned from the rest of the world by the echo of the final notes.
    The spell was broken by the gentle applause of Lady Beaufield. “My dears. That was delightful.”
    “Oh yes,” Mrs. Demerham corroborated. “I always enjoy listening to Lucinda sing, but together with Mr. Lymon, you have excelled.”
    Her father stood and patted her back. “Beautiful. Both of you.”
    Only Edward did not join in the praise. He remained sitting in his armchair, reading a week-old copy of a London newspaper. His mother turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Edward?”
    “Yes, yes, very well to show off in such a way in the strictest confines of a family setting, but I would be reluctant to see any female member of my family put on such a display in public.”
    Even Lucinda’s mother was unable to pretend this bit of rudeness had not happened, and for a moment she looked annoyed. Then her pursed lips softened and she smiled. “You must not mind if Lucinda gives a little of her time to your brother,” she said archly. “I’m sure Mr. Lymon will remember with pleasure this evening at home surrounded by his family , when he returns to his travels.”
    The crass statement dropped into a pool of silence. Edward seemed put out rather than mollified. The countess’s eyes widened in surprise.
    The silence was broken by the clash of piano keys, as James slammed his hand down upon them.
    “I beg your pardon,” he said roughly.
    “Perhaps you’d like to sing something else,” Lucinda suggested.
    “And have you offend my brother? I think not.”
    He gave a curt bow directed at the room in general and stalked toward the door.
    “James, wait,” his mother called out. “I shall send for tea directly.”
    “I don’t want tea,” he snarled. He left the room without looking back.

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    James’ departure cast a pall over the rest of the group. Teacups were drained with unseemly haste and candles called for. In various states of tiredness, annoyance and confusion, the remaining members of the house party retired.
    In her room, Lucinda threw herself against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. Her spectacles remained untouched in her bag. Lady Caroline’s thinly veiled history of Lord Byron held no interest for her tonight.
    Far more intriguing and disturbing were her attempts to unravel the motives behind James’ behavior. Even someone as naïve as she, could see the way James sometimes treated her had come very close to flirting. Certainly in twenty-four hours he’d shown more signs of enjoying her company than Edward had in the entire time she’d known him. Edward wanted a wife, and it was a melancholy truth that it didn’t really matter who she was, as long as she was suitable.
    She wasn’t going to marry Edward. She’d be wrong, though, to imagine James’ attention meant he intended to pay her his addresses. It was no more than an extension of his exuberant personality. Marriage would be far from his mind. If she couldn’t bear the thought of being tied to the prosy Edward, how much less would James be able to stand the bonds of home and hearth? Freedom and adventure beckoned him and he had no will to resist.
    The house was silent, lacking even the occasional creak of settling, yet Lucinda couldn’t sleep. Some unseen force tempted her, lured her to something unspeakably