Page 5 of A Single Obsession

Not that he was listening. She had thought she was making a little headway with him. He had sat talking with her for long enough. Did he like her? Admire her? If so, his admiration did not stretch to pretending to enjoy her performance. He had moved so far down the room she could not see him anymore.

Anthony, on the other hand, was lounging over the end of the instrument as if enraptured by every note she played. Even the wrong ones.

At last, the ordeal was over. As expected, no one requested another, and she had no intention of playing a second piece unasked.

Eliza returned to her seat on the sofa, but Beau did not resume his place at her side. Where was he? She longed to glance down the room to find out, but restrained herself, fixing her eyes on the pianoforte instead. Charlotte played a complicated sonata by Beethoven which Eliza wouldn’t attempt, even in private. The notes took on a magical quality with a depth of expression she knew she would never exhibit.

When her sister had finished, Anthony encouraged her to play another. He chose a piece of music and held it in front of her, asking for her approval with a look. Charlotte gave him a quick nod and shifted along her seat, and—to Eliza’s amazement—he sat down beside her, and they played a duet together.

Eliza was taken aback. Anthony was full of surprises. Apart from at concerts, she had never seen a gentleman play in public before.

Finally succumbing to temptation, she glanced up to the far end of the room to see how Beau was reacting to his friend’s performance, but he wasn’t there. He must have slipped away from the drawing room during Charlotte’s first piece—or maybe earlier, while she herself was playing.

Whilst disappointed to think he had not stayed to hear her, she could not blame him. She would escape too, if given the chance.

When the pair finished their performance, Anthony made a great show of offering his hand to her sister and raising her to her feet so they could take their bows. Eliza applauded as much for the novelty as for any enjoyment of the music. It was a rare circumstance to see Charlotte look so gratified.

Anthony walked away from the pianoforte and before Eliza was aware of it, he had sat down on the sofa next to her.

“I know your secret,” he said in an undertone, with no preamble whatsoever.

Eliza gulped hard, forcing herself to stay calm. Keeping her head down, she refused to meet Anthony’s gaze, afraid she could not hide her guilt. Did he truly mean what she feared? Had he seen through her disguise?

Before she could gather her wits and feign ignorance, Anthony spoke again.

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Eliza cast him an anxious glance.

A mischievous grin spread across his face. “You’ve got a lot of spunk for a girl.”

Anthony’s smile was infectious. Despite his horrifying revelation, the corners of her mouth crept upward.

“You make a good-looking youth,” he whispered, “but you make a beautiful lady.”

Eliza felt the colour rushing to her cheeks. She supposed she should be grateful she was back in known territory, but when gentlemen started flirting with her, it deprived her of all ability to form sentences in her mind.

“I see I’ve discomposed you. You don’t appear to enjoy my compliments. Most ladies thrive on them.”

“I guess I’m not like most ladies. I never know what to say. ‘Thank you. You look beautiful too’?”

Anthony laughed. “You are supposed to blush—which you’ve done admirably—and utter a demure thank you or rap my knuckles with a fan or simply flutter your eyelids and wait in eager expectation for the next compliment.”

“So, it means nothing?”

“Flirting is a silly game we play in society to keep us amused.”

While Eliza digested his words, a noise distracted her. Beau had slipped back into the room and was taking his leave of her parents.

“Is it a game everyone plays?” she asked, casting a covert glance in Beau’s direction.

“Of course. It is an unspoken rule that gentlemen must flirt with pretty ladies.”

“If that is so, perhaps I should learn the rules.”

“That would be a shame. You are perfection itself as you are.”

She rapped his hand with her fan with rather more force than she intended. “Stop it.”