“Here’s something about my father. He wrote to me for years before his death. One letter per week. I have them all in a box in my room. Most of them unopened.”

“You never read his letters?”

“I read the first month’s worth. They were all the same. A long list of my brother Bertram’s accomplishments, how perfect he was, how much my father loved him. Each one of those letters was a dagger delivered straight to my heart.”

“How did your father die?”

“His heart gave out after Bertram’s horse riding accident. He didn’t want to go on living without his beloved, golden son. The last letter came one week before his death.”

“He didn’t love you as well as Bertram?”

“He hated me from birth.”

“But why?”

“As you said, it’s complicated. He hated me and told me that I was wicked . . . and so I became what he branded me. And after Bertram died I did nothing to take up the yoke of familial responsibilities. I’ve recently met with my man of business and learned that Westbury Abbey has fallen into terrible disrepair and the tenants are being displaced. My actions, my sins, have had far-reaching consequences for my sisters, my tenants, for those people who relied on me as head of this family. I’ve begun to take responsibility, but I have so much more to do.”

Part of his responsibility to the family was to marry the perfect duchess.

Lady Winifred Woolfrey would restore his fortune and she’d been prepared from birth for the vast duties and responsibilities of a duchess.

Unlike Viola who had received no formal education, never made her debut, and had resigned herself to becoming a spinster.

They were on opposite ends of a wide societal gulf.

So why were they sitting together in this secluded bower like lovers?

She had to be stronger and more sensible than this. She backed away from him.

“My father and I will be leaving as soon as he finishes the symphony,” she said stiffly.

“Where will you go?”

“My friend Isobel has found another house for us. It’s not right in London but I think the healthful air of the countryside will do my father good. The musicale is over and your sisters have shown themselves to be sensible and trustworthy. They don’t need me as teacher, or companion.”

“Don’t you like it here? Is it because I forced you to perform?”

“My work here is finished. The girls are doing wonderfully. And you’ve reformed so thoroughly that you have duchess hopefuls lining up. There’s only one item left on your reform campaign.”

“I’m not truly reformed.” His eyes darkened. “Don’t delude yourself.” His gaze brushed her lips, and then his thumb followed. “You make me want to be wicked, Viola.”