Lady Barbara's Dilemma by Marjorie Farrell Page B

hired for the next week’s party.
    “I was assured by the vicar that he is an excellent musician and can scrape a fiddle for the dancing besides. I wanted you to meet him, and I am sure he will want to know what you intend to play. I thought you might enjoy a duet. Mr. Gower, my fiancée, Lady Barbara Stanley.”
    Gower bowed politely and Barbara nodded her head, still a bit dazed by his sudden arrival. And by his appearance. Gone was the long hair and beard. He was dressed in a very acceptable albeit worn pair of pantaloons and a forest-green jacket. Barbara could not help looking down at his legs, now encased in boots, and thought that in some ways a kilt was more attractive. How strange that I know Mr. Gower’s legs better than Peter’s, she thought.
    Wardour excused himself and left them to become better acquainted.
    “What on earth are you doing in Arundel, Mr. Gower? And looking like this?” demanded Barbara.
    “Ah, ye dinna like me in trews, then, lassie? Ye prefer the kilt? I hae verra guid legs, if I do say so maself.”
    “You may look a bit more like a gentleman, but you are as outrageous as ever, Mr. Gower. However did my fiancé come to hire you?”
    “I play for the local gentry as well as at fairs, Lady Barbara. I play wherever I will be paid for it. The vicar heard me playing a little Mozart one morning and asked me to play with him one evening. And then he recommended me to the marquess.”
    “But what are you doing here at all?”
    “I am a traveling musician, lass. Therefore I travel!”
    “Of course,” said Barbara with some asperity.
    “Have ye decided what we are to play, then, lass?”
    “You cannot call me lass, Mr. Gower.”
    “No, you are quite right, Lady Barbara,” Gower replied rather sadly. “Someone might comment on the familiarity.”
    “Exactly.” Barbara was glad he was quick to understand, but a bit disappointed, for she rather liked being called lass. “There were to be several selections for cello and pianoforte, played by the vicar and his wife. And I was to play one piece, although I have not decided what.”
    Alec leaned over and looked at Barbara’s music. “A sonatina. And some Bach? Aye, a typical evening’s entertainment. I had thought you were more of a musician than that.”
    “As I think I once told you, I have not been playing much lately, Mr. Gower.”
    “And does that not bother you, Lady Barbara?”
    “Not really, Mr. Gower,” Barbara told him in a tone that forbade any further comment.
    “Aye, it is none of my business, your face tells me. Well, now that you have a violin, what pieces do you have in mind?”
    Barbara rifled through the sheets of music the vicar had sent over. “Here is a suitable trio. Lively enough to keep our guests awake.”
    “Wait a moment. Is that a Mozart sonata?” asked Alec, reaching over and placing his hand on Barbara’s.
    “Why, yes. The Sonata in B flat for pianoforte and violin. But we are to be four.”
    “Is there any objection to us playing a duet together? This is certainly a piece more appropriate to your skill than the sonatina.”
    “I suppose we could. But I have never played this before, and indeed, have not played many duets, but confined myself to solo music.”
    “No matter, lass. Excuse me, ‘my lady.’ Start exploring your part and I will be right back with my fiddle.” Gower was gone before she could protest. Playing a short solo was one thing. But this duet would mean hours of practice, and she was not sure she wanted to throw herself back into music that way. But she opened the sheets and began running through her part. It was a lovely piece, she thought, and she forgot her surroundings and became lost in the music. She was able to follow the violin score after a few minutes, and began to hum it softly. She was so engrossed that she did not hear Gower’s return, and when he started to play, it was as though the music in her head had magically materialized, so expert was his entry.
    They