I continued playing as his footfall entered the room and crossed to me. He stopped at the pianoforte and sat beside me, the bench creaking under his weight. The slight bump of Richard’s shoulder as he slid close was all that passed between us, but it was plenty. I paused, for I suddenly couldn’t remember what came next in the piece.

Oh, how Father would hate this.

I almost began to play again, but Richard’s arm came around me, solid but cautious. I felt every inch of its gentle weight. We’d known each other all my life, and this was the first time he’d ever dared. I looked up into his face, and he smiled down at me—a solemn, affectionate look that expressed every word he didn’t need to say. The regret for my loss, the relief at my freedom, the uncertain hope of what was to come between us.

I played on for several minutes, and he listened without a word, as he always did. The song came to a gentle conclusion and I sat motionless, fingers still perched on the keys. The enormity of his masculine presence nearly undid my calm. What would happen now? Father was gone. There was nothing stopping Richard from . . . well, anything. I could feel his keen scrutiny on me. Deciding.

I looked up at him, and he leaned nearer, those familiar crescent-shaped eyes and clean-shaven chin, and laid his forehead on mine.

I ran my tongue over my lips that had gone dry and met his gaze. “So, now what?”

His hand lifted to my cheek and stroked it. “Everything’s different now, isn’t it?” A gentle smile. “What will you do with your life?”

I closed my eyes. “Oh, I have a few ideas.”

His finger came down the side of my face and teased my lips. “Anything that includes me?”

“Perhaps.” I looked up. “How are you at handling horses? I’ve been meaning to hire a driver.”

His look was amused and sympathetic all at once. Oh, how I adored this man. “Better than handling certain redheads.”

I smacked his arm, and somehow it relieved the night’s tension. Filled the cracks with a bit of joy.

“I bet I can guess your plans.” He leaned back. “After your mourning period, you’ll go out and continue to perform, maybe even better than before, and with a newfound joy that no one will truly understand. You’ll appear in concert hall after concert hall all over the Continent and amaze your audiences . . . then come home to a quiet house and live the simple, uncomplicated life you were always meant to have. One you fully deserve.”

I gave a polite smile but said nothing to contradict him. I’d known for years what I’d do with myself when I finally possessed freedom, but I dared not shock Richard with it. Not yet. I’d at least let him kiss me first.