Free The Music Box by Andrea Kane Page B

heaven have you been collecting information on my friendship with Lucinda? Wait—never mind.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I needn’t ask: Hermione. Lord, is there anything about my life she hasn’t delved into?”
    “I’ve upset you.” Gaby felt more puzzled than remorseful. “But why? And why would Aunt Hermione’s knowledge of your courtship suggest to you that she’d pried? You’ve hardly kept your relationship with Miss Talbot a secret. Let the truth be known, Aunt Hermione’s investigators provided her with very little information she hadn’t already gleaned from Chaunce. Or rather from his butler associates, most of whom work for prominent members of society and are therefore privy to all the latest gossip, most particularly during the Season, when the gossip flows so freely. Why, nearly every butler in Hertford passes tidbits on to Chaunce, and you’d be stunned to learn how many of those tidbits have, of late, pertained to you and Miss Talbot. You obviously don’t read the newspapers too carefully; items about you two have appeared regularly, complete with details and descriptions. Just as they appeared when you were seeing Miss Chatham, Miss Dods, Miss Wells, Miss—”
    “You’ve made your point,” Bryce interrupted, his expression growing more and more incredulous with each passing word of Gaby’s elaborate explanation. “And I’m sure all those ‘items’ you’re referring to line the pages of Hermione’s scrapbook. Given that fact, together with the findings provided by Hermione’s investigators and the reports provided by Chaunce’s contacts, I don’t know what possible questions I can answer. Clearly you know more about me than I do.”
    “I know this particular courtship has gone on much longer than the others.” Gaby ignored Bryce’s wry assessment, seeking something far more crucial. “Are you in love?” she demanded eagerly.
    Bryce blinked. “In love?”
    “Yes—with Miss Talbot. And if so, is it everything the poets claim it to be?” Even as she asked the question, Gaby could actually feel Bryce withdraw, retreat behind his earlier wall of reserve.
    “I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong person,” he replied, sounding more dispassionate than angry. “I’m not a big believer in what you’re describing.”
    It was Gaby’s turn to blink. “What I’m describing is what you and I have just spent the past hour discussing—love.”
    “We were discussing compassion, not love.”
    “We were discussing both. You yourself used the word ‘love’ when you spoke of our feelings for Aunt Hermione.”
    “That’s hardly the same emotion you’re referring to now.” Folding his arms across his chest, Bryce challenged her words, delivering his argument as if he were in court. “Love, as in the ability to feel benevolence or devotion, and love, as in the ability to lose oneself in a fantasy, are two entirely different things. One is simple decency or regard. The other is consuming, romantic, involving far more than mere respect and affection. That kind of emotion is one I can’t understand, much less subscribe to, for no poet has yet to explain it in a way I can fathom.”
    “Explain it? Aren’t you the one who said some things must be felt rather than defined?” Gaby paused, waiting for Bryce to reply. When he didn’t, she softly added, “A man who can make such an evaluation, who can feel the beauty of music, is also a man who can love, both affectionately and romantically.”
    “Gabrielle, you’re very young.”
    “And you’re very jaded. Did one of the women I mentioned earlier hurt you? Is that why you’re averse to falling in love?”
    Bryce stared in utter disbelief. “Hurt me? Of course not. They were delightful companions.”
    “So is Crumpet. That doesn’t answer my question.” Gaby studied Bryce’s baffled frown, a dawning knowledge kindling inside her. “Perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps it does.” Slowly she rose from the piano bench.