The Piano Tutor by Anthea Lawson Page B

angle he was in profile. His jaw was firm, his nose straight, his mouth strong, yet sensitive. She traced her own lips with a fingertip, then caught herself and hurriedly dropped her hand before he could notice.
    Mr. Jameson turned to face her. “Will you?” he asked.
    Diana’s breath faltered as their gazes held a heartbeat too long. Clearly she had missed an important turn in the lesson while daydreaming.
    “Sing for us,” Samantha said, a touch of impatience in her voice. “Mr. Jameson has been showing me a marvelous pattern for accompanying songs, but I don’t think I can sing and play at the same time.”
    Diana set aside her magazine. “Oh—I really couldn’t. It’s been so long.” There didn’t seem to be enough air in the room for her to breathe, let alone sing.
    “Of course you can.” Mr. Jameson’s tone was assured. “Miss Samantha says you have a lovely singing voice.” There was a challenge in his expression, as if he were curious to see what she would do.
    “Please, Mama. Let’s do The Meeting of the Waters .”
    “Very well. If it’s part of the lesson.” She stood and took her place beside the piano, oddly reluctant to disappoint Mr. Jameson. Still, it had been a very long while. What if she had lost the knack altogether? “Samantha, you and Mr. Jameson must help by singing with me.”
    The piano tutor counted the tempo then signaled Samantha to begin. Diana took a deep breath and sang the first words. Mr. Jameson’s rich baritone joined her, while her stepdaughter concentrated on the keyboard.
    At first her alto sounded husky to her ears, the notes unsure. Soon enough, though, her body took over and she remembered how to breathe, how to put herself into the song and carry each tone to fullness. Mr. Jameson was solid beside her, his singing voice even fuller than she had imagined. When her pitch wavered, he was there, and soon their voices began to blend in a most pleasing manner. Unbidden, her eyes met his, and the appreciation there nearly made her lose the words. She forced her concentration back to the final phrases of the song.
    Samantha was giggling as she played a last flourish on the piano.
    “Splendid!” Mr. Jameson said. “Miss Waverly, you have a deft touch on the keyboard. And Viscountess—your voice is lovely.”
    Diana smiled back at him. The parlor had not rung with such happy sounds for too long. It seemed that Mr. Jameson would be a splendid substitute.
    The clock on the mantel struck the hour, and Samantha let out a protest. “So soon? But we’ve just begun!”
    Indeed, the time had sped. “Thank you, Mr. Jameson. Shall we expect you next week?”
    “I would be delighted.” He took Diana’s hand and, bowing, lifted it to his lips.
    The warm press of his mouth on her skin sent a shock of sensation through her. It was very forward, yet she could not bring herself to reprove him, not with the heat of his kiss disordering her senses.
    Still clasping her hand, he looked into her eyes—a look full of promise that made her heart race. “Until next Wednesday.”
    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
     
    The tea shop on Bond Street was filled with the cheerful babble of conversation. Diana had requested a table in the nook—the safest place for a chat with Lucy, whose voice had a tendency to carry.
    “Tell me, darling.” Lucy arched an elegant eyebrow. “Is Mr. Jameson proving to be… satisfactory? I’d like to know if my recommendation was well-advised.”
    Mr. Jameson. Diana let out a slow breath.
    She could not stop thinking of him—his grey eyes and handsome features, the confidence that accompanied his every movement. The past three Wednesdays had found her with a giddy lightness of spirit. She was attuned to each nuance of his expression, addicted to the heat that his slow smiles sent through her. At the conclusion of every session, he had kissed her hand. Last Wednesday, his lips had seemed to linger, the heat of his breath playing against her skin for a long moment.