Page 90 of Hearts of Locke Hill

Mr. Stratham nodded with a grin.

“A fellow violinist?” Mr. Ashbrook asked, his mouth quirked. Everyone knew Mr. Ashbrook took his own violin playing very seriously.

Violet had noted the doubt lacing his words. She had observed an aggression in Mr. Ashbrook that she did not care for. “More or less,” she said and turned to give another gentleman a go.

Mr. Ashbrook, though, was not finished. “What do you enjoy playing, may I ask?”

“You may. I dearly love to play Mozart’s ‘A Major Violin Sonata.’”

Sounds of assent hummed through the group.

“Ah.” Mr. Ashbrook chuckled and looked at the shine of his shoes. “A lovely work in its simplicity.” He glanced at the othermen in the circle, then nodded to Violet. “I’m sure you play it well, Miss Whittemore.” He winked.

Somebody should have let Mr. Ashbrook know that patronization was not flirtation. “I should hope so,” she said, tilting her head. “Mozart’s genius is the soul of simplicity. His music is as elemental as a sparkling mountain stream. Of course, it doesn’t compare to the rigors of Vieuxtemps, the Mendelssohn E Minor, nor the thrill of conquering the Bach Ciaconna—I’m sure you understand. But it does remind me of simpler times, before I was expected to prove the sum of my value as apersonto those who only see the sum of my dowry.”

A silence settled amongst the would-be suitors. Young men chuckled nervously or glanced away.

“Gentlemen.” A warm tenor broke the awkward pause. “Forgive my intrusion, but this enchanting young lady has promised me a dance.” The circle parted, revealing Mr. Benjamin Burke, patriarch of the Burke family, dressed quite handsomely in a black suit and white bowtie.

Violet grinned. “Mr. Burke, you are just in time.” She reached for his outstretched hand. “Excuse me, won’t you, gentlemen?”

She felt their gazes as she left them to discuss all the topics they wouldn’t have dared in her presence. Horse races or the Southern Cross expedition or boxing matches—likely not, though, discussing Hertha Ayrton and her exciting paper on the electric arc, nor Georg Pick’s newly published theorem on the area of simple polygons.

Perhaps.

But not likely.

“You look lovely this evening, my dear.”

“I thank you for your rescue, sir.” The beginning notes of “Amoreuse” began.

He chuckled. “I believe it was they who needed rescuing.”

She hid a smile as they began the lilting waltz. “Calling Mozart simple,” she murmured, “only proves Mr. Ashbrook uninformed, uneducated, and self-important.”

“Yes, well, aside from Ashbrook’s self-importance, how are you faring, in all of this fanfare?”

“I’ve no idea,” she said. “How does a bird fare under the sea?”

“That is a question for a penguin.”

She huffed. “Then, I must interview a penguin posthaste, for I am all at sea.”

Mr. Burke sighed. “I’ve missed that sardonic wit.”

“I’ve missed your family.” Violet felt a flush rise, and she did her best to banish it. “How is everyone getting along? How is your wife?”

That soft smile she knew to be associated only with his thoughts of Rose Burke lit his face. “She is dauntless. Lovely as ever. And asked me to give you her loving regards. She is visiting her aunt and could not attend.”

“My mother and I will call on her when she is returned. It has been too long. And how is Ruby? She is fifteen, yes?”

“Yes, only just. Somehow, she has managed to wrap her brothers round her finger. I shall not fear for her, only her suitors, when the time comes.”

“A time for which you are in no hurry, I presume.”

Mr. Burke laughed. “You presume correctly. Perhaps I do fear a little.”

She laughed with him. “I shall be sure to seek her out when I visit Oakleigh.”