Despite the unshakable attraction between them, Maeve and Lucian are uninterested in love and marriage; especially since they hate one another and couldn't think of a worse match.
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London, 1815
Maeve Langston's aversion to the opposite sex has...
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Lucian was here out of pure chance. Delawney had been invited here by a friend who couldn't come in the end, so John — who had decided to forgive him for going to Belgium — had asked Lucian to accompany him instead. None of them had been formally invited, but both of them were here nevertheless.
Lucian had gladly accepted the invitation, as he was familiar with the host, a composer he enjoyed. What he hadn't known, though, was that it was the man's birthday. He now felt out of place, being among guests who all knew each other in some way, or at least knew the host personally.
When he had finally spotted a familiar face — other than John's — it had turned out to be the last person he would expect to find here. Who could have thought Lady Langston would be invited to an old man's birthday? She frequented spheres too high to be among commoners like these. Still, there she was, looking as elegant as ever.
When she had come up to him, or rather had been dragged by her friend, it had been hard to ignore how uneasy she was, despite her best efforts to look unphased. He couldn't tell if it was from regret or embarrassment, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant to see the effect he had on her.
After their short exchange, he had realized she'd barely paid attention to John. It was when he remembered his original purpose was to keep her away from him. It amused him how things had changed in such a short time. Now, he had to keep himself away from her if he didn't want things to get complicated. However, when it came to her, his willpower wasn't worth much.
For once, the party was not focusing so much on the dancing, but rather on the music. A Quatuor was entertaining the room with various pieces Lucian guessed were from Schwarz himself, and no room had been arranged for dancers.
The house they were in showed how successful the composer had been. For a man of low birth, he certainly had raised to admirable heights. The place wasn't a palace, but it was large enough to host a party of one hundred people without being overcrowded. Everywhere you looked, you were reminded of the host's passion for music. All paintings contained at least one instrument, whether it was a portrait, a still life, or a landscape. Various instruments were scattered on shelves or cabinets, and a few were even mounted on the walls.
If all of it wasn't to Lucian's taste, he had to give credit to the dedication it showed. After a quick look around the room, he noted that Lady Langston wasn't here anymore. He then turned his attention back to John, who was debating about some political situation in some random country in Eastern Europe. Deciding that discovering the rest of the house would be more interesting, Lucian left his friend and walked around. He found more musical paintings and instruments, including a few exotic ones that probably came from halfway around the world.
Lucian kept on exploring and ended up in the music parlor, which, if filled with even more instruments, was empty of people. It was as large as the living room, with a grand fireplace, two bow windows half-hidden by heavy draperies. He closed the door behind him and walked between the chairs that had been set in rows, to make his way to the grand piano. In the middle of the front row of chairs, a large Louis XVI armchair had been installed, right in front of the piano, beside which a violin sat in a holder, along with a cello resting on a chair. Lucian lifted the keyboard lid, and his fingers danced soundlessly over the black and white keys. It had been at least a decade since the last time he had played anything. He glanced at the door and decided no one would probably hear him.
