“A swim.” Thalia couldn’t keep the words back. “In April?”
“Indeed.” The butler showed her into a mirrored music room with a grand piano and many enormous potted plants. “It is Mr. Ryker’s daily custom to swim in the Hudson. Please wait here, Miss Cutler. Miss Ryker is not at home, but Mr. Ryker asked me to assure you he will not be long.”
Once she was alone, Thalia took a wary look around the music room. The grand piano, a Bechstein, fall board folded back to reveal the gleaming keys, was the heart of the lovely room. Perched on the bench, Thalia could see Riverside Park and the river beyond through the windows, open yet barred. Despite the river traffic that plied the Hudson, this place seemed very remote from the city. It felt like a castle in one of Nutall’s stories.
The breeze through the open window, although chilly, brought a delicious scent of fresh water and blossoming trees. The river water must still be freezing cold. Thalia was confident that Ryker wasn’t swimming in his human shape. He must have Traded. Would he come back smelling of fish?
Thalia touched middle C on the Bechstein’s keyboard.
Miss Ryker was not at home. Nonsense. She was under what amounted to house arrest. If she’d ordered her staff to tell people she was not at home, that meant Thalia was wasting her time. She didn’t count on Ryker compensating her for the visit if she never laid eyes on his sister.
Middle C, Thalia reflected, had filled the empty music room the way water fills a glass. She took off her gloves and played a scale. The Bechstein lured her on. She began one of the études she’d learned as a girl, when finger-dexterity exercises were far more important than musical training.
The Bechstein made it a pleasure to play faster, more precisely, moving from the simplicity of the étude to the pieces she’d learned from Milo. Thalia’s fingers had not forgotten. From nursery rhymes and hymns, she moved to her favorite piece, a Chopin nocturne.
“Dear lord, woman. Stop!” Ryker was standing immediately behind Thalia. “For the love you bear your own ears, if not mine, stop that row at once!”
Embarrassed, Thalia put her hands in her lap as she turned to face her host. “I didn’t hear you come in.” It had been rude of her to help herself to that glorious piano. Her face had gone hot. She was certainly blushing as if she’d been boiled.
Ryker, despite his language, did not look angry. He seemed to be suppressing some strong emotion, but Thalia couldn’t tell what it was. His spectacles glinted as he regarded her unsmilingly. He was wearing a serge suit in a deep gray that suited him perfectly, with a faultlessly pressed white shirt and a dark green cravat. His hair was still slightly wet and his face rosy with cold from his swim.
“Move over.” Ryker joined her on the piano bench. Thalia could not help noticing that he did not smell like fish. He smelled like fresh air and balsam spruce, probably from the pomade in his hair. It became clear to Thalia that the emotion he was fighting to hide was amusement. “Have you no heart, woman? It goes like this.”
Slowly, meltingly, the nocturne resumed. Thalia knew the notes. Clearly, Ryker did too. He drew the music forth much more slowly than Thalia would have done, as if it were a series of sighs. The music surrounded them, another glory of the Trader mansion.
A thought came to Thalia from nowhere. If Ryker’s hands could do that to the Bechstein, what could they do to her?
The last chord had faded before Thalia noted that Ryker had finished and turned his attention to her. She brought her thoughts firmly back under control. “Beautiful.”
“It’s called phrasing. You might try it sometime.” Ryker shook his head, marveling. “Where did you learn to play? On a mechanical piano?”
Thalia met his gaze with a marveling look of her own. “Mocking your guests. Is that the Trader way? Who taught you your manners?”
“I’m not mocking you.” Ryker’s smile reappeared, then vanished again. “My sister tells me that when I address a modern woman, frank honesty is the best way to show my respect. I’m doing you the honor of speaking to you as an equal.”
“Frank honesty, eh?” Thalia accepted the challenge. “My turn. My piano lessons were with Milo the Strongman. My father paid him a nickel for each lesson.”