The Earl I Adore (11 page)

She shook her head a couple of times, a series of short, quick movements. “No. I can't imagine why he'd be here,” she said, obviously bewildered. “That is to say, he never struck me as a particular music lover.”

“No, I don't think he is. Regardless, I'll invite him over
for dinner tonight. Best to dine with friends in a new city.” Evan liked the man. At three-and-twenty, he had the sort of young-pup idealism that Evan had been denied, thanks to the old earl's early death.

Her lips thinned for a moment. “Yes, of course. Unfortunately I forgot to tell you that I agreed to dine with Miss Wembley and her mother tonight. Do give Harry my regrets.”

“Are you certain? I could make it tomorrow night instead.” Though Harry was two years Julia's junior, they had spent a lot of time together growing up.

“Don't be silly. I saw him only a few weeks ago. Plus, I think you are right—dinner with a friendly face may be just the way to begin his first night in a new city.”

“It's settled, then. Should I ring Higgins to have the carriage made ready?”

“No, I've already done so.”

He nodded. “Very good. Enjoy your day, sister.”

She lingered in the doorway for a moment, her fingers resting against the jam. “Evan?”

“Yes?”

“You're the best brother much more often than the worst.”

He smiled. “I love you, too.”

“L
ady Julia! What a lovely surprise.” Sophie rushed to greet her unexpected guest, glad that the drawing room was clean and tidy at least, if a little shabby. What in the world would Evan's sister be doing here, out of the blue? She'd mentioned no intention to visit when they had parted after the opera.

Standing amid the slightly outdated furniture, she looked fashionable and lovely in her smart green-and-white afternoon dress. Still, unless Sophie was very mistaken—and she could have been—the woman's eyes held a hint of worry. Tiny wrinkles marred her normally smooth forehead as she offered a small smile. “I hope it is a welcome one. I don't want to impose.”

“Yes, of course! You are always welcome. I only just returned from Miss Bradford's, so I hope you will forgive my appearance.” As usual, Sophie's curls were a riotous mess, piled on her head and stabbed through with a dozen pins, not that they helped control the unruly strands. She'd yet to change from her morning gown, and she hadn't even put away her oboe.

“You look perfectly respectable to me,” Julia replied,
gracefully lowering herself onto the chair Sophie had offered with a wave of her hand.

Sophie lifted a disbelieving eyebrow. “Leave your spectacles at home, did you?”

This time, a bit of the visible strain seemed to lessen as her guest chuckled. “I only need them to read, I assure you.”

Sophie laughed at her quick wit. “If you say so, then who am I to argue?” Taking a seat on the sofa, she couldn't help but wonder again what had brought about this visit. As much as they truly seemed to be getting along, Evan's sister didn't seem the type to simply drop in unannounced. Scooting forward a bit on the cushions, Sophie decided to come right out and ask. “Do tell me, my lady: To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit today? Eager to discuss the opera, perhaps?”

“First of all, please do call me Julia. Second of all, I need to beg a favor.”

Sophie blinked, taken aback. “A favor?” What on earth did Sophie have to offer the sister of an earl?

“Indeed. I may have told a little white lie to my brother earlier today when he wished for an old family friend to join us for dinner. I like the gentleman well enough, but as far as I'm concerned, I am here to get away from home, not to dine with the same people we do in Ledbury.”

“And the lie?” Sophie asked, properly intrigued.

“I told him that I had accepted an invitation to dine with you this evening. Terribly, terribly presumptuous,” she rushed to say, “but that should speak to my level of desperation at that moment. Please forgive me. I am not accustomed to having friends, Miss Wembley, and I do hope that I have not overstepped the bounds.”

Not accustomed to having friends?
What an odd thing to say. Sophie knew that Julia had tended to stay close to home, but that would be all the more reason to have a handful of friends nearby. “Sophie. And you did not overstep a thing. Mama will be delighted to have you join us.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Truly, you may regret your decision once she has your undivided attention.”

Julia closed her eyes briefly, letting out a quiet breath. “Thank you, Sophie. You are a lifesaver.”

“One does what one can. Let me go tell my mother about our plans for this evening, and then we can chat.”

“Actually, I was also hoping you could play your oboe for me.”

Sophie paused, a little surprised. “Truly? Not many people like to hear it by itself.”

“I'd love to. You have heard me play my harp, after all. Evan tells me that you are quite a talented musician, and I find I'd like to hear you play without any other distractions. It is, after all, an instrument that is impossible to be dour, no?”

Sophie's eyes widened. “You heard that?” Good heavens, she had thought her conversation with Evan quite private at the time. What else had Julia heard?

Nodding, Julia gave her a commiserative smile. “I know the experience wasn't enthralling for you since you are so accustomed to listening to performances. Don't worry—you didn't bother me in the least. I only caught that bit in a lull in the music.”

Disturbing the woman wasn't at all what Sophie was worried about, and she most definitely had not been bored by the performance, but she quickly grasped onto the explanation. “Well, I'm sorry I disturbed you at all. And yes,” she said, rushing on, “the oboe is the happiest
instrument I know. Some may say the flute is more so, but they are terribly uninformed, and besides, the flute will cause dreadful wrinkles, what with all that puckering.”
Stop babbling,
she chided herself. She always chattered when she was nervous, and discovering that Julia had heard even a small portion of Sophie's whispered conversation with Evan was certainly nerve-racking.

“Does one not pucker with the oboe?”

Good—familiar ground. She shook her head with more enthusiasm than was warranted. “No, the lips are squeezed together very firmly to form an airtight seal. The double reed is quite tricky, and it can be a lot of effort to get the sound just right, so we oboists tend to have exceedingly strong lips.”

Julia's jaw dropped open for the space of a second before she slapped a gloved hand over her mouth. Even that wasn't enough to stifle her laughter. Her shoulders quaked as she shook her head, her eyes pressed closed. “I'm so sorry,” she gasped when she could speak. Her eyes sparkled gaily, an improvement over her hesitancy when she arrived. “That was quite possibly the oddest thing I have ever heard.”

Sophie flushed. “Oh, please, you must forgive me. I do tend to say things as they pop in my head. My mother is forever scolding me for not thinking before I open my mouth, and I must agree it happens more often than not.” As many times as she had ended up with her foot in her mouth, one would think she would have learned her lesson.

Julia waved away her explanation with a sweep of her hand. “Think nothing of it. I would much rather know what a person is really thinking. As you could probably tell from our first encounter, I don't tend to mince words.”

Sophie gave a teasing, overly dramatic cringe. “Yes, I noticed. Which makes it all the more sweet that you would trust me with your secret now. Although, given my propensity to talk, that may not have been the most prudent choice you've ever made.”

Laughing, Julia nodded. “I'm realizing that. Even so, I'm glad I came.”

“So am I. Though I do hope you feel the same way once you hear me play. The oboe does tend to work best with others.”

“Does it? Does that mean that you don't generally play alone?”

“I don't. Until my older sister married last month, my mother insisted we play together, despite the distinct lack of suitable duets for an oboe and bassoon.” She shook her head, glad for the end of those concerts. She loved her sister dearly, but Sarah wasn't the most accomplished musician in the world.

“A very interesting combination, I imagine.”

“Yes, but not nearly so much as the trio I play with now.” A smile came to Sophie's lips just thinking about the spontaneous moment in which they'd assembled their musical group, all for the purpose of besting the ill-tempered festival clerk who thought to thwart them last month. “May—Miss Bradford—plays the Chinese zither, and our friend Miss Effington is an accomplished pianoforte player and composer. Together we could be described either as ‘delightfully unique' or ‘dreadfully unusual,' depending on how you feel about exotic music.”

Julia's expression teetered between intrigued and confused. “I'm finding it quite impossible to imagine those three instruments engaged in anything that would approach harmony.”

“I'm not surprised. We ourselves didn't even know before we committed to play at one of the Tuesday night musicales. Thank heavens it all worked out.” And even if there had been a different outcome, it still would have been worth it simply to have gained such wonderful friends.

“Are you to play again soon? I should love to have the opportunity to hear for myself. I even promise to use words like
interesting
and
unique
in place of
terrifying
and
bizarre
.”

Sophie laughed. “How very thoughtful of you. As a matter of fact, we'll be playing on Monday for Mr. Wright's little soiree. Perhaps I can see if we can convince him to invite you.”

“I'd say I wouldn't wish to impose, but in this case I most certainly would. Are you certain you don't mind?”

“Not at all. I don't know the vicar terribly well, but he does seem quite the affable fellow. I doubt he'd balk at the presence of a lady like yourself.”

“I've met Mr. Wright, actually. He was great fun to dance with. I've never laughed so much with a man of the cloth in my life.”

Sophie bit her lip, a thought occurring to her. “I suppose I should suggest an invitation for your brother as well. To keep the numbers even, of course.” Excitement bubbled up within her—how very perfect! She loved the idea of Evan's hearing her play in an ensemble that was actually good. He'd said he'd heard her play, but that was during the Season at one of her duets with Sarah—hardly the most impressive performance.

Julia raised her shoulders. “If you like. I'm sure he would enjoy hearing your trio, and he's already acquainted with Mr. Wright.”

“Then it's settled. I'll send the vicar a note first thing in the morning.”

Thank heavens—the clock was ticking, and the more time she could spend with the earl, the better chance she had of properly wooing the man. She almost laughed. By the time all was said and done, Evan would either be in love with her . . . or wish never to see her again.

*   *   *

“How was your little get-together?”

Poor Julia jumped half a foot at the sound of Evan's voice. He hadn't meant to startle her, but she must not have seen him as she walked past the library door. At a few minutes after nine, the waning daylight was still bright enough to read by, so Evan had yet to light any candles.

Backing up a few steps, she peered in and smiled. “Lovely. And yours?”

Evan shrugged and set aside his book. “Uneventful but pleasant. Young Harry has grown up to be a fine man. He'll do very well, filling his father's shoes.”

His sister shook her head, amusement lifting the corners of her mouth. “You sound like an old man, talking like that. Young Harry, indeed.” She padded into the room and sat in one of the leather chairs across from him. Smoothing a hand over her skirts, she asked, “Did he say what brought him to town?”

“He thought to foray into society for the first time as the new baronet in a somewhat less intimidating manner. He knew I was here and thought the festival might be the perfect place to mingle with those of similar interests and station.”

“Eager to claim the perks of his new status, I see,” she commented, crossing her arms over her chest.

Evan shot her a disproving glance. When they were children, Harry had often gazed at her with lovesick cow eyes. She'd always been short with him, deflecting his
interest as best she knew how, but he was a full-grown man now, long past his childhood infatuations. “Now, Julia, don't be cruel. It doesn't suit you. You know that he and his father were close, and Sir Robert's death was very difficult for him.”

“You're right—that wasn't fair. So, did he think to use you as a means of easing his way into society's good graces?”

“He'll make his own way, to be sure. With the title and ten thousand a year, the
ton
—and their daughters—will surely welcome him with open arms.” With his passable good looks, intelligence, and young age, Harry would practically be catnip for the beau monde. Good for him, as far as Evan was concerned. He'd have his pick when it came to marriage.

She gave a little sniff of disbelief. “He's impulsive and unreliable—hardly the stuff of young ladies' dreams.”

“He's still young. In a few years, I'm sure he'll be steady as Old Time. Speaking of impulsive young men,” Evan said, remembering the missive that had arrived while Julia was out, “we've an invitation from Mr. Wright to join—”

“His party?” Julia broke in, sitting up straight.

Evan tilted his head. “You know about it?”

“Sophie mentioned it just this evening. She and her trio will be playing, and I did so wish to attend.”

Evan chewed the inside of his cheek. He hadn't thought to accept the invitation, but ever since the opera, he'd had a hell of a time getting Sophie off his mind. The idea of hearing her perform was surprisingly enticing.
Almost
as enticing as that unforgettable figure of hers. His mouth went dry at the thought of her warm flesh beneath his fingers.

Not something he wanted to be thinking about with
his sister watching him. He quickly diverted his thoughts back to Sophie's music. He vaguely remembered attending one of her performances in town, but this was something different. He had gotten to know her now. Liked her.

“In that case, I'll respond in the affirmative.” He reached for his brandy and took a drink. That still left him with a bit of a problem: He wasn't sure how he felt about Julia being around the vicar again. Evan liked the man, but he was wary of the look he'd seen in Wright's eyes when he had danced with Julia. Jolly fellow, but too forward by half.

“In fact,” he said, setting down the glass as inspiration struck, “I believe I'll beg the good vicar's indulgence in allowing Harry to join us.”

Julia's gaze snapped up to meet his. “Harry?”

“Yes,” he replied, warming to the idea. After all, he had enjoyed a surprisingly pleasant dinner with his neighbor. Harry had been away at school for the last few years, so Evan hadn't had a chance to really talk with him in a long while. Despite what Julia claimed, he was an open, optimistic young man, eager to share his plans for improving his lands over the next few years. His ideas were sound, and Evan had been quite impressed.