Free The Saint by Madeline Hunter

here soon, and I will count on your riding over to join us whenever you can.”
    â€œThat is most kind of you. I rarely visited my great-uncle, so I am all but new to these parts.”
    â€œYou have not spent much time in England these last years, have you, Kenwood?” Vergil asked.
    â€œI have preferred Paris. I found the culture there to be of surpassing quality. The artistic life is very rich.”
    â€œYou have an interest in the arts?” Penelope asked. “Then you will enjoy the company of my party. Your cousin is no mean artist herself. She sings like an angel and has graciously entertained Charlotte and me on occasion.”
    Nigel’s expression showed polite interest, but also carried a patronizing tinge. Bianca guessed that he had met many young women whose friends believed they could sing like angels.
    â€œLet us cajole her to sing now,” Charlotte said. “Vergil and Dante have never heard her.”
    â€œI would be honored to accompany you,” Nigel offered. “I am passably competent on the pianoforte.”
    Bianca felt a little cornered. She had only entertained Penelope and Charlotte with popular drawing-room songs, and had managed little serious practice over the last two weeks. All the same, the opportunity to sing, even if it couldn’t be her best effort, excited her.
    They all went to the music room and Nigel took his position at the pianoforte. “My repertoire of popular songs is limited,” he warned her in a slightly superior way.
    â€œPerhaps an aria would make more sense, then.”
    He looked up in delighted surprise. They agreed on one by Mozart, which she had learned just before leaving Baltimore. The prospect of this little performance quickened her heart.
    The others positioned themselves on benches and chairs. Nigel played a few measures, to introduce the piece.
    Her spirits immediately soared with the notes. No need to restrain her voice like she did in her room while she practiced scales. No cold isolation such as she experienced when she snuck away to sing on the grounds. Her joy in letting her voice vent its strength colored the sounds.
    The reactions of her little audience produced a type of power. Penelope looked stunned, Dante enthralled, Charlotte confused, and Vergil sharply interested. She glanced aside at Nigel and saw surprised approval. His skill at the pianoforte was considerable, and she suspected that he understood that the audience gave the skill meaning.
    When she finished, the room was so silent she could hear insects through the open window. She held the swelling euphoria for a priceless heartbeat and then released it.
    â€œThat was astonishing, dear cousin,” Nigel said quietly. “You have been training in earnest.”
    â€œYou amaze us all, Bianca,” Penelope said. “And your playing was masterful, Sir Nigel. I can see that music is a serious interest for you.”
    â€œNot an interest, but a passion.” His eyes met Bianca’s with a glimmer that said they shared a secret these others could never understand.
    â€œYou must promise to play when my guests are here. Perhaps we can induce Bianca to sing as well. It will make for a wonderful evening.”
    â€œI would be honored.”
    He began to take his leave, imploring Penelope to visit Woodleigh soon. The butler entered before Pen called for him, carrying a card.
    â€œA man has arrived, my lady. He requests to see Miss Kenwood.”
    Penelope examined the card and raised her eyebrows when she handed it to Bianca. Bianca knew the name before she read it.
    The visitor she had been expecting had finally arrived.
    â€œIt is business, Penelope. Is there someplace where I may meet with him alone?”
    â€œPut him in my study,” Vergil instructed the butler. “Miss Kenwood can conduct her business there.”
    Bianca saw Nigel off and then ran down the corridor to the study, still feeling lighthearted from singing.
    She