Endlessly Courted, Finally Loved by Christi Caldwell

Author:Christi Caldwell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Regency
Publisher: Christi Caldwell
Published: 2023-05-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

My dearest Hamish,

I love to sign and play pianoforte but despise performing before an audience. The only audience I would ever find joy in playing for would be an audience of just you.

With Love and Longing,

Beatrice

As Hamish settled himself onto the bench of the boxwood and cyprus Cristofori instrument Lord Redbrooke had gifted Abigail some years earlier, Beatrice sat motionless, her gaze forward.

Her heart beat erratically within her chest.

Hamish, the big, burly, brooding Scot had taken to the front of her cousin’s music parlor to perform a song, in front of a large gathering of Polite Society. And more…he’d done it for her. Was there any man who’d have ever made that sacrifice? Certainly, there’d never been one who’d do it for Beatrice—until Hamish.

She kept her eyes on him as he examined the keys. Had he ever played before? He must if he’d taken up a seat on the bench. What if he hadn’t? Panic settled in her gut. This time, far worse, and all because the thought of him being an object of disdain and amusement.

Or…what if he did play and this was just another detail she’d uncovered about Hamish Campbell, the Scot who’d stolen her heart?

Hamish raised his hands, his fingers poised over the keyboard when another slight din descended. She dimly registered someone claiming the spot beside her, and she glanced up.

Helena and Robert. At some point, the couple had entered the room and had discreetly sought to claim their seats—that was, as discreetly as a duke and duchess were able.

“What…?”

Helena interrupted Beatrice. “It occurred to me you despise music recitals, and your brother and I thought to come to your rescue.”

“Little did we know, there’d be someone else rescuing you this night,” Robert drawled.

Unbidden, her gaze flew to Hamish, who remained on display. For her. Because of her. His gaze on her, patiently waiting for her, as if the song he was about to perform was for her, and in every way, it was.

Her sister-in-law and brother forgotten, Beatrice smiled softly. “I’m sorry,” she carefully mouthed.

Hamish gave a little wink; one that indicated he’d read her lips perfectly and found her apology unnecessary. That second flutter of his lashes, both playful and seductive, softened him in ways she’d been so very certain he could never be softened.

Hamish began to play, and Beatrice’s breath caught and held, and remained suspended, and she’d wager her very soul on Sunday, her heart would never return to a normal cadence.

She’d wondered at his playing skills—worried, even.

Beatrice, however, had worried for naught.

His fingers glided over the keys of that instrument with familiarity and grace and ease, and sitting there breathless while he played, she marveled that it was possible to be envious of an inanimate pianoforte.

Then, he began to sing. His husky baritone a shade away from a bass swelled around the room. Euphonic and deep, Hamish’s voice possessed a sonorous quality that entranced.

“O, my luve is like a red, red rose,

That’s newly sprung in June;

Oh, heavens. Not only did he sing and play, but he sang romantic ballads.

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