The Noble Smuggler by Sian Ann Bessey

Author:Sian Ann Bessey [Bessey, Sian Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: innkeeper, smugglers, smuggler, thief, daughter, romance, Historical, noble, pirates, rescue, heal, love, acceptance
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2020-03-31T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Elizabeth wore the green muslin dress to supper that night. Lady Langton had insisted that she eat with her and the duchess before their musical evening together. Under normal circumstances, such an invitation would have given rise to all manner of anxiety as she faced the daunting array of silverware beside her plate and stumbled through correct dining etiquette and conversation. As it was, her concern over her performance at the table paled in comparison to her anxiety over her upcoming recital.

The dining room was just as elegant as the drawing room. Dark-green walls with gold velvet window treatments set the tone for the dark cherrywood dining table and chairs. A white linen tablecloth ran the length of the long table, and candles flickered in the candelabra closest to where the three women sat. Light reflected off the sparkling silver and crystal goblets and the brass buttons on the coats of the two footmen who brought in one sumptuous dish after another, replacing plates as quickly and quietly as they removed them.

By following her hostess in her choice of implement and contributing to the discussion only when called upon to do so, Elizabeth managed to navigate the entire meal without incident. She wished she could have more fully enjoyed each dish, but her sense of taste had deserted her. Indeed, had she been asked to recite what she had eaten, she would have been hard-pressed to remember the course preceding the one placed before her.

When the meal finally came to an end, Lady Langton took her daughter’s arm and led them back to the drawing room and the pianoforte awaiting them there. After making sure her mother was seated comfortably, the Duchess of Kelbrook took her place at the instrument and looked at Elizabeth expectantly. “What should you like to sing, Miss. Doyle?”

If “nothing” had been a choice, Elizabeth would have seized it. Instead, she moved to stand before the pianoforte, praying that the trembling in her fingers would not also be manifest in her voice. “I fear my repertoire is small,” she said. “A few hymns and ballads are all I have memorized. My mother taught me some nursery songs, but they are better suited for children, I think.”

The duchess smiled. “I think a ballad would be lovely.” She opened a book of music and set it on the pianoforte. “Are you familiar with ‘The Oak and the Ash’ or ‘Greensleeves’?”

“I know them both,” Elizabeth said with relief.

“Then shall we begin with ‘The Oak and the Ash’?”

Elizabeth nodded. This was the song she had sung to Reynard when she had tended his wounds. The duchess played a few opening notes. Elizabeth cleared her throat slightly and closed her eyes. If she imagined herself back in that dark little room with no one to hear her but Reynard, perhaps she could do this.

“A North Country maid up to London had strayed . . .” she began. In her mind’s eye, she saw Reynard sitting on the small cot. This time, he was not in pain; he was smiling at her—at the song’s nonsensical lyrics.

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