Minerva Hughes made her way to the piano, sat, and began to play a lively folk piece made popular by an influx of composers from the Urals. Though the music soothed, and as much as he said he wanted thoughtless musical bliss, the lilting melodies didn't take his mind from the beautiful American time traveler in the deep green gown. So tangled up in thoughts of her, his suspicions, and his unwelcome physical responses to Haven, he was surprised when Miss Hughes played the final chord, and then rose to gentle, appreciative applause. She'd played three pieces of music, and he hadn't heard a single note.
He glanced about the room. Did anyone notice his embarrassing preoccupation? Divinia Kroger peered at him, her expression blank. But her fingers strangled the delicate fan in her lap.
She'd noticed. How could she look so calm, yet be displeased enough to destroy an ivory framed fan?
This is becoming troublesome.