Free The Baron Next Door (Prelude to a Kiss) by Erin Knightley Page B

fade to scars, but there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot that could be done for a compressed spinal cord of the cervical spine, as the most respected of the doctors he had seen had called it. Hugh could very well suffer the effects for the rest of his life.
    But he didn’t blame Felicity for her optimism. Her well-being, and that of his niece, depended on him now. With Ian gone, Hugh could no longer get away with living on the outskirts of society. He had to pull himself together if he was to be any sort of leader at all.
    He settled back against the butter-soft leather of his chair and exhaled. If anyone should know about leading, he should. He had commanded scores of men as a captain during the war, demanding respect and delivering strong, dependable leadership. Until the moment it mattered most—that day everything had changed.
    He pressed his eyes closed, willing the thought from his brain. He was here now, and he intended to do everything in his power to do right by his brother’s wife and daughter. He’d do just about anything to free himself from this prison of pain.
    “Jacobson,” he shouted, dropping his hands to the desk.
    His bemused batman appeared in the doorway several moments later. “Sir?”
    “Bring the foul swill that serves for water to me, please.” It was something that he should be requesting of the footman, but he stayed away from the other servants as much as possible. He didn’t want them being witness to his struggles.
    Wry humor lifted the man’s good brow. “The recommended five liters before breakfast not enough for you, my lord?”
    “Just fetch the damn water,” he grumbled without heat. Jacobson was as good a man as Hugh had ever known, but he had no trouble showing irreverence.
    Probably why Hugh liked him so well.
    Jacobson’s retreating footsteps seemed to fall in time to the tinkling music, which also matched the throbbing that built in intensity with every passing moment. Tonight would be hell, but tomorrow was another day.
    *   *   *
    “I think we should add just a little more flavor of the Far East.”
    It wasn’t a statement Charity would have expected to make even a few days ago, but now she said the words with confidence. She nodded for good measure as May glanced to her in surprise. “I must say, I thought the Eastern influence made you a bit nervous.”
    Charity set down her pencil on top of the sheet music she had been working on and swiveled around in order to face May fully. Sophie had returned home early in order to join her mother at a final fitting of her gown for tomorrow’s opening ball, so they were on their own as they worked on a few minor changes to the recital selection.
    A little too guilty of the charge to deny it, Charity offered a sheepish grin. “Yes, I know, but the more we practice, the more I really appreciate the beauty of the added exotic element. I love that we can take a completely traditional piece and turn it on its head.”
    It was absolutely invigorating, actually. So far from her normal range, it challenged her in a way she truly craved. It was unique and beautiful, and she was proud of that.
    May strummed a few chords as she pursed her lips. The resulting twang was full of notes that shouldn’t technically sound good together, but somehow came across as melodic. “I would love it, of course. But only if you are certain it won’t make you worry even more about the selection committee performance.”
    Ah yes, the dreaded selection committee. Auspiciously, its function was to properly assign the registered musicians to the Tuesday best suited to their talents. Since the event was meant to encourage the participation of the
ton
, they didn’t dare be so crass as to call it an audition, but Charity knew full well that’s what it was. If, for whatever reason, a musician—or trio—didn’t meet their standards, she had no doubt they would find a way to prevent them from playing. The knowledge added an uncertainty to the whole