Heart Strings (Music of the Heart Book 1)

by Donna Hatch

  As the harpist tuned, his hands caught Kit’s attention. They appeared reddened, as if they’d recently been used to punch something. Or someone. If Kit were to hazard a guess, the musician looked as if he’d been in a fight.

  The memory of the fight with Susanna’s attacker sprang into his mind. During the scuffle, Kit had punched the blackguard in the eye. He could not be certain which one, however. Surely the harpist’s blackened eye was a coincidence. The harpist would have no reason to attack Susanna. They’d never even met.

  “No damage to your hands, I hope?” Kit said conversationally.

  “I can play just fine—better than that upstart little tramp you’ve been seen all over town with.”

  Kit gaped at the venom coming from the man’s mouth. He took a step forward “She is a lady, and I won’t have you besmirching her reputation.”

  “I heard what you said to the conductor about her being better than I am. Half the orchestra heard it. No little tramp from the country plays as well as I. This is my position. My harp.”

  Cold chills raced down Kit’s back. “It was you—in the garden. You stabbed her!”

  The harpist lowered his gaze and said sullenly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if she got stabbed, then she had it coming.” A strange light of…madness?...entered his eyes.

  Kit relived their fight, recalling every punch. He had wrested the knife out of the attacker’s hand, hit the man in the eye, and punched him in the stomach. The opponent had fallen in his flight to get away from Kit but had leaped up and ran with a limp through the garden gate out into the street. Kit had lost him in the darkness.

  The harpist had a blackened eye and a limp. His ribs probably pained him.

  Kit dredged up a smile and said, “Well then, you probably aren’t sore here.” He pressed on the harpist’s ribs on the left side.

  The harpist grunted, his face twisted in pain. “Hands off me, swine.”

  “It was you.” Kit fisted his hands.

  A crowd formed around them.

  Kit took another step toward the harpist. “After you stabbed Susanna, I punched you in the eye and the stomach, and you twisted your ankle running from me.”

  “No one touches my lady.” He stroked the harp and crooned to it.

  Kit folded his arms when he wanted to put a fist through his face. “You might be interested to know that you failed to harm Miss Dyer; she is perfectly well.”

  The harpist’s eyes widened and then grew dark. “The little tart. She won’t be so lucky next time.”

  Kit’s vision turned red. He punched the blackguard. Probably too many times. Eventually someone dragged Kit off the sobbing harpist, who continued to gesture at his harp, calling it his lady. The authorities took the mad harpist into custody where he would be of no further threat.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Just outside the Daubrey’s drawing room, Susanna halted to gather her skittering courage. Seeing her relatives would take more courage than she’d ever possessed—running away and facing an uncertain future had been less terrifying than confronting those from whom she’d run. Kit had seen to it their false charges were dropped, but Susanna needed to face them one more time, if nothing else than for the satisfaction of standing up to them. Witnessing them receive a humbling set down wouldn’t hurt, either.

  She entered. All her old fears returned the moment Aunt Uriana came into view. Her aunt surveyed the room with mingled envy and disdain. Sitting next to her, Uncle yawned and stared off into space, no more interested in these proceedings than he had been in his niece beyond her ability to play the harp for his enjoyment. It was a wonder he had bestirred himself enough to make the journey. Next to Aunt Uriana sat Cousin Percy and Algernon. Percy’s eyes were alight with interest in his surroundings, but Algernon picked at his fingernail, his mouth hanging open in that same vacant expression that she’d come to associate with him unless he was striking a servant or kicking a dog.

  Kit sat with all the regal confidence of a king, staring them down as if they were snails in a flower bed. In a nearby leather armchair lounged Daubrey, wearing the bored indifference of a lord. Next to him sat Esther who glared as if she were about to scratch out someone’s eyes.

  Seeing her new friends, and especially the man she loved, restored her confidence. She glanced again at the assembly. Her relatives were not all-powerful beings in control of every aspect of her life; they were only thwarted mortals whose selfishness could no longer hurt her.

  Kit stood. “Ah, Susanna, my love. How good of you to join us.” He crossed the drawing room and took her hand. As he raised it to his lips, he said under his breath. “Are you sure you wish for this meeting? You can still leave now.”

  She nodded. “I need to do this.”

  A gentle smile curved his mouth and approval glittered in his eyes. He tucked her arm around his, and led her back to the group where he seated her next to him on a large, upholstered Ottomane couch, leaving their guests to sit on the less comfortable settee all crowded together.

  Aunt Uriana looked her over with narrowed eyes.

  Susanna cast a glance over them and said evenly, “Good day.” Instead of curtsying, she only gave them the briefest incline of her head.

  Uncle’s expression sharpened, and he looked at her as if he’d never seen her. Percy’s eyes traveled over her, widening in appreciation and mild surprise. Algernon only gave her the briefest of glances before he starting chewing on a cuticle and propping up his gouty foot on the low table in front of the settee. Aunt Uriana, however, shot her a stare that might have frozen her solid in seconds, but Susanna straightened and lifted her chin, deflecting her aunt’s former power over her.

  Daubrey spoke. “Now that we are all together, we can talk this through like civilized adults.”

  Aunt Uriana let out a humph. “There’s little to say, my lord. She ran away from home. She must return at once.”

  Susanna shook her head. “No aunt. I will not return. Not ever.”

  Aunt Uriana blustered. “Why, you…”

  Kit’s thumb caressed Susanna’s hand. “Since she is over the age of eighteen, you are no longer her legal guardians. She may live anywhere she pleases and marry whomever she wishes.”

  Aunt Uriana continued to bluster. “She is supposed to marry my nephew, Algernon. The banns have already been read.”

  Susanna watched her aunt with mingled disgust and pity. Why had she ever allowed this woman to dominate her? “That is of little consequence. I am engaged to be married to—” she caught herself before she called him Kit—“Lord Christopher, and he is the only one I will accept as my husband.”

  The blustering turned to true, red-faced anger. “You must marry Algernon or it will scandalize him and label you…” she glared, “…as a jilt.”

  Outrage rose up inside of Susanna. “I never wanted to marry Algernon, and you know it. I only pretended to agree so you wouldn’t lock me in my bedchamber and starve me into submission.”

  With a guilty glance at Kit and the Daubreys, Aunt Uriana said, “Oh, good heavens, what rubbish.”

  Kit used the same authoritative voice he’d used with the constable. “Susanna may live anywhere she chooses. And that is final. As to her being labeled a jilt, no one will dare speak out against the daughter-in-law of a duke. This…” he glanced at Algernon...“Algernon, was it? Will have to find himself another bride, if anyone will have him.”

  Algernon frowned and screwed up his face. “But, I—”

  Kit cut him off. “Now, let’s move on to the next item of consideration. Your charges against her. You hired someone to go after her, claiming that she stole something.”

  Uncle raised his brows as if this claim were news to him.

  “Yes. She stole a piece of jewelry.” Aunt Uriana pursed her lips and fidgeted with her sleeve.

  Kit’s expression was patently disbelieving. “Really?” he drawled. “And you have proof of this?”

  Aunt Uriana glowered. “Of course. It
went missing the night she left.”

  Quietly, but with firmness, Susanna demanded, “What jewelry, Aunt?”

  Aunt Uriana paused. “A diamond necklace.”

  “I don’t recall ever seeing you wear a diamond necklace.” Susanna tilted her head and allowed her disbelief to show.

  Her aunt’s eyes shifted back and forth as if she were thinking up a new lie. “Well, of course you wouldn’t since you were never present during formal dinner parties.” She glanced at Kit and Daubrey. “She wasn’t ‘out,’ you see.”

  “Nineteen and not yet out?” Esther mused. “That is beyond the pale.”

  Lord Daubrey nodded. “Deuced odd.”

  Aunt Uriana shifted.

  Uncle finally spoke. “I don’t remember this diamond necklace.”

  Aunt Uriana made an impatient sound. “You never notice things like that.”

  Putting steel in her voice, Susanna said, “I’ve never seen a necklace like that on you or anywhere in the house, and I certainly didn’t steal it—nor anything else.”

  “It is your word against hers.” Kit stood, his posture commanding. “Here is what you are going to do. You will drop the charges against Susanna, and you will leave without making any further contact with her, even indirectly. Otherwise, I will make it known that you starved and neglected her, and that you tried to force her to marry your nephew so you could access her dowry.”

  Four pairs of gaping mouths met her eyes.

  Percy recovered first. He stood and offered Susanna a condescending smile. “Cousin, I apologize for all of this difficulty and hope you know I have always held you in high regard.”

  “Oh, have you?” Susanna asked sweetly. “I seem to regard your proposition was not what an honorable man normally makes to a lady whom he holds in high regard.”

  Percy cleared his throat and glanced nervously around. “On the contrary, I was trying to save you from a worse fate. If I weren’t already married….”

  A huff of disbelief came out of Susanna’s mouth. “A worse fate than being ruined? I cannot think of it.”

  “Nor can I.” Esther eyed them as if they were all insects she’d decided to squash.

  Aunt Uriana fixed a cold stare on her son. “You idiot. She cannot be your mistress—no one gets her dowry if she doesn’t marry.”

  Percy held out a hand. “I didn’t know she had a dowry or that you had hoped to gain access to it.”

  Susanna cut in. “Goodbye, Cousin.” She turned to her uncle. “Uncle.” She drew a breath, sifting through all she wanted to say. She finally ended with, “Thank you for allowing me to continue to play the harp. Without my abilities as a harpist, I would never have come to London and met Lord Christopher. Aunt Uriana ….” She searched for something gracious to say but came up with nothing. “I trust our paths shall never again cross. Algernon, if you treat parishioners the same way you treat kittens and puppies, I recommend you reconsider the church. I believe it would suit you ill.”

  Algernon glanced up at her, and let out a strange chortle as if reliving some act of cruelty he’d committed.

  Susanna turned dismissively away.

  Daubrey straightened. “I believe our interview is over. We expect the charges to be dropped by the end of the day or the morning papers will be filled with all the ugly truths about each of you. Good day.” He called for the servants to see their guests out.

  A chorus of indignant sounds fell on seemingly deaf ears. Susanna maintained a serene air until after her aunt, uncle, and cousins left.

  Kit took her into his arms. “Well done, love. I am surprised you aren’t even a bit overset.”

  As Daubrey and Esther slipped out, Susanna rested against him. “They aren’t worth the effort. I forgive them so that I shall never think of them again.” She lifted her eyes and gazed into his. “From now on, I will only think of you and our life together.”

  “And perhaps some music.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt that we will make much beautiful music. I’m sure Esther and Daubrey will allow us to play their harp.”

  “Or perhaps you’ll play your own harp.”

  She paused, searching his eyes.

  “As part of my inheritance, I own a small estate at the south eastern coast. It has a music room…with a harp.”

  She let out a delighted gasp. “Oh Kit!”

  “And.” He grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “I have something for you.” Looking equal parts smug and handsome, Kit reached into his pocket and opened his hand. “I was waiting for the right time to give this to you.”

  In his hand lay a small gold and sapphire ring. Could it be? “That looks like my mother’s wedding ring.” She shook her head. “I sold that to get to London.”

  “Yes, and I found the pawn where you sold it and I bought it back for you. Mrs. Griffin sends her regards.”

  Her eyes stung, and the gold and blue dissolved into a watercolor painted by her tears. “Oh, Kit.” She picked up the ring and slid it on her finger. “Thank you.”

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  An impish side of her raised its head. “Well, since you’re in such a generous mood, there is a parlor maid in my aunt’s house named Martha. I would very much like to offer her a job in our home, if that’s agreeable to you.”

  He lifted a brow. “Really? A parlor maid?”

  “She was instrumental in helping me reach London,” Susanna explained.

  A soft light entered Kit eyes. “Then I owe her a debt of gratitude as well. Consider it done.”

  “Thank you.” She kissed him, their lips and hearts meeting in joy and hope and light, promising a future of many more such moments.

  “I love you, Susanna, and I want you with me always.”

  She sighed. “I have been unwanted and unloved for a very long time. It almost seems an unattainable dream to know that you do.”

  “Not a dream—truth.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist. “And I love you so very much, I cannot even express it.”

  “Try.”

  She did. She poured out her love through her kiss.

  When she’d left home in search of freedom in London, she’d had so little hope of finding anything beyond a position to put a roof over her head and bread on her table, and perhaps word of her brother. Though she still wished her brother had come home as soon as she’d written him of their parents’ death, the emptiness of his loss no longer seemed so consuming.

  She had fled to London hoping to find a new future and a measure of freedom. Instead, she had found belonging and joy beyond her hopes. She had found a family. She had found love. The man of her dreams held her hand, and their wedding had been planned to take place three weeks from today. Nothing seemed too daunting to face—even meeting the Duke and Duchess of Charlemonte.

  With Kit, she experienced the same bliss she’d known when playing the duet with him—a song of the heart they would compose all of their lives. Together, they would create a lifetime of sweet music, and so very many Sweet Memories.

  Author’s Notes:

  Women’s stays and corsets saving their lives is a well-documented fact. Due to the heavy, closely-woven fabric, folded and sewn in multiple layers, it creates a strong protection. Also, the center boning that ran vertically the length of the garment in front between the breasts was made of either a wooden slat or whalebone which would further deflect all but a very well-placed blow delivered by a strong arm. There are also reports through history of folded handkerchiefs, as well as small books such as bibles, saving lives from the deadly force of a blade or a bullet.

  Contrary to what readers sometimes encounter in literature, a maid is not a proper chaperone; maids are servants who can be bribed or bullied. Only a respectable, mature woman who is married or widowed, or a spinster of good breeding and advanced years is considered a proper chaperone.

  Since researching the working class musician proved more difficult than expected, I took some creative liberties comb
ined with what I learned of Regency theatre and opera, along with my own experience as a theatre and music nerd in my youth. I hope the end result provided a satisfying, realistic-feeling Regency world.

  The term bounty hunter was not in use during the Regency, but it was common for people victimized of a crime to offer up a reward for the capture of the criminal. Some of these who sought the reward were honest lawmen, others were not so much.

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  About the author:

  Donna Hatch, author of the best-selling “Rogue Hearts Series,” is a hopeless romantic and adventurer at heart, the force behind driving her to write and publish 14 historical titles, to date. She is a multi-award winner, a sought-after workshop presenter, and juggles multiple volunteer positions as well as her six children. A devoted music lover, she sings and plays the harp. Though a native of Arizona, she and her family recently transplanted to the Pacific Northwest where she and her husband of over twenty years are living proof that there really is a happily ever after.