The Baron Next Door by Erin Knightley

Author:Erin Knightley [Knightley, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-06-02T22:00:00+00:00

* * *

What was she doing?

Even as Charity trudged up the stairs toward the music room, she couldn’t quite figure out why she was doing so. Hugh had made no bones of his wish to stay clear of her company in the future, and yet here she was, responding to his summons.

She sniffled yet again and rubbed at the remaining moisture on her cheeks. Not that she cared what he thought of her appearance. Yes, she undoubtedly had puffy eyes, a red nose, and pale cheeks. This was how one was supposed to look when one was dealt a crushing disappointment. And, really, he was one reason she was in this mess in the first place. She couldn’t prove it, of course, but their encounter surely hadn’t helped anything.

She padded past the pianoforte, twisted the lock on the balcony door, and stepped outside. Darkness was rapidly falling, but she could clearly see the baron in the gray light. He leaned negligently back against the black railing, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked immaculate, perfectly ordered, and oh, so handsome with his crisp white cravat and well-tailored jacket. The consummate gentleman, while she no doubt looked like a paper doll left out in a rainstorm. Despite her resolve not to care, she smoothed a hand down the rumpled fabric of her skirts.

“Well?” he prompted, raising his eyebrows in invitation.

“Well, what?” Yes, she was being contrary, but damn it, she was feeling contrary. This day had been a total disaster, and being polite wasn’t high on her list of priorities at the moment.

“What has stolen the joy from those pretty gray eyes of yours?”

Her stolen joy. If that didn’t sum up the way she was feeling, she didn’t know what would. Even his unexpected little compliment wasn’t enough to raise her spirits. With her disappointment washing over her anew, she fished out the crumpled letter from her bodice and thrust it at him. “Here.”

The look on his face was almost enough to make her laugh. One would think she had just, well, pulled a letter from her bodice. She bit her lip. Her mother would have fainted dead away if she could have seen her. But Mama would never know, and she wasn’t terribly concerned with the baron’s tender sensibilities. “Go on,” she said, waving the paper at him.

Visibly working to straighten his expression—and, yes, she did see the humor flaring his eyes—he plucked the letter from her fingers, unfolded it, and scanned the three-sentence note. She could have told him exactly what it said:

Dear Miss Effington, Miss Wembley, and Miss Bradford,

The committee is honored to have been able to experience your performance. Unfortunately, we have discovered that the event has been filled beyond capacity, and we simply cannot find the room for all registered performances. As the last to register, we regret to inform you that your trio cannot be included in this year’s recitals.

With our sincerest apologies,

The Summer in Somerset Musical

Selection and Assignment Committee

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