The Princess and the Pauper by Alexandra Benedict Page B

would tend
to his house, for the servants had welcomed her guidance in
domestic matters. And she would play for Rees.
    Nothing more.
    You will not break me
again.
    She had broken him five years ago, hadn’t
she? She had broken her father. Perhaps herself. Some days she
wondered what might have been if she hadn’t been so afraid to admit
her true feelings for Rees? Papa had admired him for looking after
his grandfather’s debt. He might have admired him in other ways, if
given the chance. Or he might have killed Rees.
    She sighed. She could feel nothing for
Rees and hurt him. She could love him and hurt him just as much.
She didn’t want to hurt him anymore, but no matter which way she
turned, she inevitably caused him pain.
    Her thoughts returned to the rough and
tender boy on the roof of her townhouse, playing his beautiful
lullaby, and she could almost hear the soft melody crying through
the freshly papered walls.
    Wait!
    Emily raised her head and listened with
intent. It was music. Yes, a violin. She had not imagined it.
    She approached the glass doors
and struggled with the lock and latch. At last the doors separated,
and she stepped out onto the balcony. T he melody strengthened. She had not
heard it before and closed her eyes to better listen to the notes
tangled together with the hubbub of the city.
    In a little while, the din from horses and
carriages and pedestrians weakened, and she heard the music alone, a
lullaby, like from long ago, that rocked the soul in comfort, but
twined with sadness—the sadness of a broken heart.
    Her own heart swelled and tears
formed in her eyes, her nose, her throat. Soon she cried a flood of tears.
Sob after sob wracked her chest and soaked her cheeks. How she
yearned for days past! A time when her father protected her and a
mysterious violinist befriended her. A time when she wasn’t so
alone.
    At length, she tired from the
tears. She wiped the wetness from her face with the cuff of her
sleeve and realized the music had stopped. There was an end to all good things,
she reflected.
    She stepped back into the room. Her eyes
lifted toward the door. A longing filled her to be with Rees. He
had rebuffed her, but he needn’t know she was there, on the roof
with him. She just wanted to be near him, to watch him play. It had
been so long since she’d seen him play.
    Without another thought, she
left the bedroom and made her way to the top floor. Having already
explored the house at her leisure, she knew where the entrance to
the roof was located. In minutes, she had climbed the winding
stairs leading to the terrace and opened the door.
    Rees stood on the flat roof,
holding the violin and bow at his side, flexing his other hand. His injuries
had mostly healed, the swelling gone, though bruises remained. He
had his back to her, staring out at the city nightscape. She waited
in the shadows for him to lift the instrument and play again. But
the minutes stretched on and on. His hands must still hurt, she
reasoned.
    “ I know you’re there,” he said
at last.
    Her heart dropped. It wasn’t his hands
that troubled him but her presence, and it twisted her soul to
think he couldn’t play if she was near him.
    There was no reason to hide
anymore. She stepped out of the shadows, drawing closer to him. “The music was
lovely.”
    He remained quiet.
    “ Did you play that sad song
because of me?”
    “ No.”
    “ Do I cause you
pain?”
    “ No,” he said more
forcefully. “You mean—”
    “ Nothing to you, I know.
You’re angry with me about the past. You hate me.”
    “ No!” He turned around, his
expression contorted with grief. “What are you doing?”
    “ Gratifying you
needs.”
    “ What?”
    “ You have a need to punish
me, don’t you? Take your revenge, Rees. Play that tragic song
again. Break my heart again.”
    “ Break your heart again?” His eyes flashed. “You lied
about us. All the years we spent together. You let your father
think I tried to rape