Marcus listened.
He had come for Henry.
That should have been reason enough.
Yet he found himself remaining long after the music had begun.
Watching her.
Chapter Seventeen
The last notelingered in the air like breath held against glass. For a suspended heartbeat, no one moved. Lila lifted her hands from the keys. Light caught the faint tremor in her fingers, which she hid by folding them neatly in her lap. She drew a quiet breath, gathering herself.
A soft murmur traveled through the salon. Appreciation. Surprise. The small, murmuring hunger of people who had recognized more than they expected.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon tapped her cane once. “Well done.”
Lila inclined her head. “Thank you.”
She did not meet Marcus’s eyes. Not yet. She was still adjusting to being seen.
Henry clapped once, a bright, unfiltered burst of pride. He caught himself too late, cheeks coloring. The sound softened the moment with an innocence no adult could echo. Several of the ladies smiled at him.
Fenwick did not.
Marcus shifted a fraction closer to Henry.
Bessie’s gaze moved between the three of them, a faint smile touching her mouth, as if she were watching pieces slide into place on a board she understood.
Lila rose from the bench.
“I can play another—”
“No,” Bessie said. “Let them wait for the next.”
Lila nodded.
Mrs. Newton drifted forward, tapping her fan against her glove. “Miss Edgewood, that was lovely. You play with such… expression.”
Miss Lyle chimed in. “Mrs. Horner must hear you. She gives the most divine soirées—”
“You are kind,” Lila said.
Marcus saw the tension in her shoulders. The careful distance in her gaze. The way she kept her hands clasped to prevent any gesture that might be mistaken for an invitation.
The ladies circled. For all her composure, Lila stood unmoored at the center of it. Before they could press closer, Henry slipped to her side and touched her sleeve, his shy pride unmistakable.
“You played my song,” he whispered.
Her composure softened, just slightly. “Yes,” she murmured. “I did.”
Lady Harbrook approached next. “Is this the boy?” she asked, examining Henry as though he were an object for private appraisal. “The one you teach?”
Henry edged nearer to Marcus.
“Yes,” Lila said.
“And both hands already?” Lady Harbrook asked. “At his age?”