Lady Barbara's Dilemma by Marjorie Farrell Page A

had taken it for granted, in fact, that being his wife and a mother to their children would be a more acceptable way of channeling her creative energy.
    But since he didn’t expect her to give up her music completely and since he prided himself on his understanding and generosity, he had the pianoforte prepared and encouraged her to play. And was duly relieved to see that she spent so little time with it.
    A week or so into her visit, after his mother had taken herself off to bed and before they had become too distracted by the night’s ration of kisses, Wardour commented on her lack of interest.
    “I have noticed you have not spent much time at the pianoforte, Barbara.”
    “Oh, I hope you don’t think I don’t appreciate your thoughtfulness, Peter. It is only that I had almost given up playing altogether this spring.”
    Wardour smiled. “It had seemed to me that you were giving it less time, my dear. In fact, I was rather gratified to think that I was such a distraction.”
    Wardour’s smile held more than a hint of self-satisfaction, and for one moment Barbara was tempted to wipe it off his face with a slap. She was immediately horrified at her reaction. Her attention had been given to him during the spring and he had every right to assume a connection. It was only that at some very deep level he expected everything in his life would work out the way he, the Marquess of Wardour, wanted it to.
    She wanted very much to say, “Do not assume so readily, Peter, that all lives revolve around your own,” but that would have been too harsh. Instead, she explained that she had devoted many years to her music, only to finally realize that no amount of talent would change the fact that performance opportunity was limited due to her rank and sex. “Had you not so kindly prepared the pianoforte for me, I would not have expected to play at all. I must say, though, Peter, that I do enjoy playing for you and your mother, so perhaps I can allow music a place in my life after all.”
    Wardour slipped an arm around her. “I have always thought music, drawing, and embroidery and such were very appropriate activities for young girls and women as respites from their domestic duties. I am happy to see music become less of a passion. I hope, Barbara, that another kind of passion will more than make up for it.”
    Barbara had no chance to reply, for Wardour’s mouth covered hers demandingly. It was lucky for them both that his caresses were much less restrained than usual. Barbara felt his hand slip behind her neck and undo a tape or two on her gown so that he could stroke her back gently and then, reaching in front, cup one of her breasts in his hand. She was so distracted by these new pleasures he was introducing her to that she forgot her anger at his equating her music to something like embroidery.
     

Chapter 19
     
    The marquess and his mother had planned a dinner for Barbara’s more formal introduction to the neighbors. They invited a small group of guests for a private concert of chamber music and then a light supper. After that, more of the neighbors were invited to enjoy dancing and light refreshments in the ballroom.
    Although Lady Wardour had been most willing to let Barbara learn the ins and outs of the household, she refused to let her lift a finger for the festivities. “This is your party, my dear, so you should not have to work at all.” After protesting, Barbara gave up and kept herself busy riding, walking, and practicing, for Wardour had specially requested that she play a tune.
    The day before the dinner dance she was in the music room halfheartedly running through a Beethoven sonatina when the door opened and Wardour walked in.
    “Excuse me, my dear, I didn’t realize you were here, you were playing so softly. Come in, Mr. Gower, come in.”
    Barbara was amazed to see her wandering Scotsman follow her fiancé into the room. Before she could say anything, Peter introduced him as one of the musicians he had