Free Heart Strings (Music of the Heart Book 1) by Donna Hatch Page B

with me?”
    “So late?”
    “Many people go home early, but a fair number stay out late Saturday nights—probably because so many shops are closed Sundays; they can sleep in tomorrow. The music is good and the company is fun, if you don’t mind associating with a working class rougher even than musicians.” He offered a self-deprecating smile to let her know he wasn’t truly a snob.
    Who was Kit Anson? He had to have come from a family of means. His clothes were good quality, without holes or thinning places—not quite as fine as the members of the beau monde wore, but certainly among the prosperous working class. His manners and accent would fit in with even the upper crust of society. Clearly he’d been trained by the best; raw talent was one thing, but a musician of Kit’s calibre developed from a combination of innate talent combined with years of training by the finest masters. Only someone with deep pockets would have the funds for a violin master to fine-tune his talent and mould him into a performer of unsurpassed skill.
    He smiled. “You’re thinking very hard about this. It’s not supposed to be a difficult question.”
    She shook off her musings. “Of course I don’t mind associating with the working class. I’m part of them. But I really don’t remember how to dance. My dance master was dismissed years ago.” She hadn’t danced with a partner in so long—not counting her imaginary partner who danced with her each time she was confined to her bedchamber—she doubted she could do it properly. She’d probably embarrass herself.
    “That’s easily remedied. One can learn the steps in a short lesson,” he assured her. “A dance master probably wouldn’t have taught you any of these dances anyway.”
    She cursed her wagging tongue. Now he knew she’d come from a family who could afford a dance master. She wasn’t very good at remaining anonymous.
    He leaned forward. “Do come. It will be fun. When was the last time you had a little fun?”
    When, indeed? She took pleasure from playing the harp. She enjoyed walking along the river that ran through the estate—or at least, she did when she lived there. She liked reading. But fun? When was the last time she’d had fun?
    Kit chuckled. “If it’s taking you that long to remember, then you are overdue. Come.” He stood, gathered up her bag and his violin, and held out a hand. “Dance with me.” It wasn’t a command, but rather an invitation.
    Guided by the same reckless courage that had prompted her to leave her aunt and uncle, she placed her hand in his. “Very well. I will.”
    He gave her that infectious grin, and she couldn’t help but smile in return. As if they were a fine lord and lady, Kit escorted her along the dark streets and alleys of London. With Kit at her side, the shadows no longer looked ominous, and passers-by seemed innocent of evil designs. Safe. This was what it felt to be safe in the presence of another person. How lovely.
    A break in the buildings caught her eye and the gurgle of water beckoned to her. She stopped, straining to see what had caused it.
    “Is that the river?” she asked.
    “Yes, that’s the Thames. Ever seen it?”
    “Only at a distance.”
    “You’ll want to see it, then. I can take you sometime during the day, if you’d like. The best place to view it is Wapping, down the old Waterman’s stairs. I go see it every few days. It seems to pull me there.” He smiled wistfully. “It’s like an old friend to whom I must pay my respects. I never quite know what I’ll find. Depending on the tide, it may be low and have an expansive beach, or so high and turbulent that one doesn’t dare step off the stairs.”
    She admired his profile and smiled at his description of the river. “I would like to see that.”
    “Once when I was hungry, I found half a crown—the Thames’ gift to me.”
    Susanna digested that. Such a refined gentleman, well-bred and well-educated, Kit had still shared some of