he needed in order to proceed. He favored the audience with a gap-toothed grin when they applauded, and when someone suggested an encore, he played it all over again, pauses and all, before setting his instrument down with a clatter and dashing for his grandpapa, who scooped him up and let him hide his face against his broad shoulder.
Viscount Dirkson was also Katy and Seth’s grandpapa, Jessica thought suddenly—Abby and Gil’s children, that was. And she felt a sudden melancholy at the thought that her cousin and best friend was so far away and soon would be farther. When would they see each other again? But that was the nature of life when one grew up, and she could not honestly say she wished she was going to stay here, close to her family. Not when that would mean letting Gabriel leave without her.
But this was no time to let her thoughts wander. Viscount Dirkson, still holding his grandson, was telling everyone that Gabriel had kindly agreed to play for them—beginning with Bach’s “Jesus bleibet meine Freude,” roughly translated to mean Jesus shall remain my joy, with which he had enthralled the Westcott family some weeks ago.
There were some smatterings of applause and a buzz of interest as Gabriel took his seat on the bench, arranged the tails of his evening coat behind him, and looked down at the keyboard as he flexed his fingers in his lap. He was still horribly nervous, Jessica thought, resisting the urge to rub her sweating palms over her skirt. She was sitting quite close to him. The movement might distract him. Her heart was pounding in her ears. He looked really quite, quite gorgeous—a totally irrelevant thought to be having at the moment. His hair needed cutting. It was curling all over his head. She was glad he had not yet had it cut.
Oh please. Please, please start.
And he did. And he had been right. The music he produced was nothing like it had been the last time. And everything like it. For it was not a performance of something that had been written down and memorized. Yet it was Bach, surely as Bach was meant to be played. And it was music that seemed to come from a deep well of beauty and creativity and rightness. As he had done at Elizabeth and Colin’s, he closed his eyes soon after he started playing and tipped back his head slightly, a frown of concentration between his brows—until toward the end he bowed his head over the keys, his eyes still closed.
Jessica found herself swallowing repeatedly so that she would not disgrace herself either by sobbing aloud or by allowing tears to spill from her eyes down her cheeks.
When he was finished, he lifted his hands from the keyboard and made no other movement for a while. Neither did anyone else. Until Avery of all people got to his feet to applaud and everyone else followed. Except, for a few moments, Jessica.
Oh dear God, she loved him.
Not for his looks. Not for his sense of duty and honor. Not for the music that was in him. Not because he was still bringing her a rose each day. Not because he had hurried to that tearoom, knowing she would be beside herself with worry. Not even because his frequent lovemaking made her deliriously happy. Not because of anything.
She just loved him.
He was back in his surroundings, she could see, and looked acutely embarrassed as he acknowledged the applause with a smile and a curt nod of the head. His eyes met Jessica’s and there was something in his, something far back within them, that caught at her breathing and surely stopped her heart for a moment before it resumed its beating, audible to her ears again.
He next played a short piece by Mozart and something else Jessica could not identify. Then he got to his feet and moved away from the pianoforte even though someone at the back of the room—the same person as last time?—begged for an encore.
And the party continued.
Aunt Matilda hugged Gabriel tightly, seemingly unconcerned about the tears that trickled down her cheeks. “Thank you, Gabriel,” she said. “Thank you for playing just because I asked you to. If you want, I will adopt you. Charles will not mind.”
And they both laughed as they hugged, and Jessica lost the battle with two tears.
It was only the start of an emotional hour, of course.
It was never easy to say goodbye.
Even though, as Uncle