Chapter Three
Following the inconsistent notes, Gerard De Wilde, the Duke of Safford, walked on and rounded a bend. He was met with a sight to behold: a beautiful young lady in a sky blue morning dress standing by a magnificently sculpted fountain. Midnight black tresses cascaded past her shoulders, half of them held up by a delicate silver pin at the back of her head. Her eyes were closed gently as she pulled the bow, lifting the rich sound from the instrument. He found it quite interesting guessing the color of her eyes, and subsequently yearned to learn their true color. Captivated was the word, he was captivated. Time seemed to slow down as he stood partly obscured by a tree and continued to observe her closely. Her bow movements, her gentle swaying to the music, the few strands of hair that had escaped her pin and now framed her face...
Screech! The magical moment was destroyed as she accidentally exerted too much pressure on the bow and an awful sound emanated from the violin. The bow stopped moving and she opened her eyes. From a distance, he couldn't see her eyes properly, but they looked to be a warm, lovely brown. She frowned and looked down at her scores, sitting at the edge of the fountain.
Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew and sent her scores scattering off the fountain edge. Giving a small shout, she hurried to put her violin down and give chase to her scores. Gerard took a small step, intending to help her when the wind brought the scores flying in his direction and came to land on the grass at his feet. The lady's head whipped around and she froze, catching sight of the gentleman standing by the tree for the first time.
The dark woolen tail coat contrasted sharply with the starched white muslin shirt. His cravat was perfectly knotted, and his breeches were just the right shade of light brown. Slightly wind-blown, a tuft of jet black hair fell over his eyes as he gazed at the lady.
Abruptly, she realized that she had been staring. Flushing a crimson red, she cast her eyes shyly to the ground. The gentleman bent down and gracefully scooped up her scores.
"Mademoiselle, your scores," He said in a deep, rich voice, laced with a hint of French accent.
"Merci, Monsieur," Victoria replied haltingly back in French, meaning "Thank you, Mister" as she took back her scores from his hand. Her French wasn't very good, but one of her maids had taught her some basics. A lovely smile graced his lips, lightening up his face. Victoria blinked. Her thoughts were racing. This handsome gentleman speaks French!
"I happen to overhear your playing, my Lady, and I hope you're not offended by my not notifying you of my presence," His voice cut through her wandering thoughts like a knife, bringing her sharply back to reality. He spoke in perfect English.
Mortified beyond words, she turned several shades of crimson. Suddenly, the blades of lush green grass at her feet seemed very interesting. He had heard her awful playing! She visibly cringed at the thought of him listening to her flat notes, her uneven demisemiquavers, her rather bland slow movement, her...
She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and realized that he was gazing at her with a curious light in his alluring grey eyes, patiently waiting for a reply.
"It is all right. But I am afraid, monsieur, that my playing is not exactly the most pleasant sound to the ears," Victoria finally managed, still blushing faintly. She looked up at him only to see an amused smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. Oh great, he's going to start laughing at me. Victoria thought in dismay and slight annoyance.
Gerard looked at the slightly flustered brown-eyed beauty in front of him, now nervously toying with her hands, and couldn't help but smile. True, her playing wasn't exceptional, but it wasn't as terrible as she had described it. Try as he might, but he was unable suppress an amused grin as he observed a myriad of expressions flit across her face; shyness, then embarrassment, and now a mixture of disappointment and an almost imperceptible hint of irritation.
"No, mademoiselle, your playing is, in fact, not quite as terrible as you had feared."
Victoria's irritation grew. Not quite as bad as she had feared?! This translates to being rather mediocre, so to speak. What was wrong with her? First she was embarrassed that he had heard her playing and had even personally admitted that it was not of standard. Yet she now felt annoyance at the gentlemanly words of blunt insult. Mentally slapping herself, she tried to conceal her irritation, but the attempts were rather futile. The weak smile she had plastered on her face threatened to slip.
"All you need is just practice and more practice." Gerard's smile widened as he regarded her with twinkling eyes, full of amusement. Of what exactly, she couldn't for the life of her figure out. In fact, that maddening smile of his was really starting to test her very limited patience.
"That is what everyone says," she snapped impatiently. "But these notes here," she gave the demisemiquavers a hard jab with her finger. "are totally testing my already thinning patience."
Her eyes narrowed and her scrutinizing gaze swept over his impeccable dressing. She surmised that he was a wealthy man, and one that is probably titled too. "And what do you know of playing the violin anyway? Gentlemen like you know nothing of music."
Her mouth snapped shut, seeming to realize that she had gone a bit too far. What is the matter with you, she berated herself silently. All he did was smile that annoying smile and her temper would veer out of control. She opened her mouth and was about to apologize when the impossible happened.
His smile broadened into a grin that showed even, white teeth and a dimple on his left cheek. And then he began laughing.
Her jaw almost dropped open in astonishment. She had expected him to be insulted, outrageous, fuming mad, whatever it was, it definitely wasn't this. She had just insulted him and here he was laughing. Laughing! All she could do was to stare at him stupidly like an imbecile.
Irritation, impatience and bewilderment spurred her anger. Finding her voice, she snapped, "I have absolutely no idea what you find so amusing, Sir. But if you're going to continue to laugh all day, you'll have to excuse me, for I am taking my leave."
Sobering up immediately, he apologized. "Forgive me, my Lady. I had forgotten myself for a moment there." But a small grin still lingered on his mouth and his silvery grey eyes twinkled with laughter. Oh, how she would like to wipe that smile off his face.
Suddenly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch. His eyes widened and a soft expletive escaped his lips.
"Forgive me once more, my Lady, but I believe I'm about to be late for an appointment. Do excuse my abrupt departure, but I do hope that our paths will cross again." With that, he smiled that infuriating smile, turned and began walking away, before she could so much as utter a single word.
She stared after his departing figure in confusion and annoyance. What in the world is wrong with him? First, he appeared out of absolutely nowhere, then he commented on her mediocre playing and actually laughed when she insulted him. This was one puzzling gentleman. Not to mention his annoying smile, that sincere, knowing smile that could spark off her irritation so effortlessly. This handsome stranger was affecting her in ways she had never been affected before.
"Goodness! On the contrary, Sir, I sure hope I'll never have the misfortune to lay my eyes on you again," She muttered to herself as she watched him disappear among the trees.
