Shannon's Daughter (25 page)

Chapter
Twenty-three

By the
time he woke, the sun was up and Peg was gone.
 
The sheet next to him was still warm and the scent of lemons lingered on
the pillow, leaving him chilled and bereft.
 
He forced himself to focus on the day ahead, to Michael’s return, and to
the dinner party.
 
As the thought of
playing the role of Michael Shannon’s grateful nephew set his heart thumping
uncomfortably, he threw his legs off the side of the bed, raking his hands
through his hair.
 
He had slept with the
man’s daughter.
 
In return he would be
introduced to one of the most powerful conductors in the world, feted at a
party in his honor and touted as a rising talent.
 
Facing himself in the mirror would take all
the strength he could muster and then some.

When he
reached the first floor an hour later, braced by hot water and a stiff lecture
on self-denial, he found Peg, surrounded by strangers in various uniforms,
quietly giving orders and looking completely at ease with her responsibilities.
 
There were four maids in tidy blue dresses
and crisp white aprons, bent on cleaning every corner of the already immaculate
rooms, a trio of florists in green overalls arranging huge bouquets in the
entry hall, dining and living rooms, and a mustachioed piano tuner, shushing the
lot of them as he banged his tuning forks beneath the hood of the baby grand in
preparation for the Maestro’s performance.
 

At the
foot of the stairs, Kendall came up beside Peg as she studied the notepad in
her hand and chewed the tip of her pen.
 
Deep in concentration, she started when he whispered near her ear, “I
thought you said this was just a small affair.
 
I suppose you have an army here for days in advance of a real party?”

She
looked up sharply, taking a moment to focus on him before beaming a smile.
 
“Good morning.
 
I hated to wake you, you were sleeping so
soundly,” she whispered back.
 
The sound
of her voice, husky and warm, sent a fresh spasm of guilt through his chest.
 
This morning, far from that siren in black
lace, she was a vision of fresh young womanhood, wearing slim-fitting blue
jeans and a starched white shirt complete with sailor collar and little red
tie.
 
Her hair, obviously recently
shampooed, hung in damp waves down her back, held from her face with a red
ribbon.
 
The conflicting images in his
head left him momentarily speechless, as she went on in a more normal tone,
“You’ll find coffee and sweet rolls in the kitchen.
 
Mrs. Leary is upstairs getting Dad’s room
ready and Adamson has already left for the hospital.
 
I have so much to do today I told them they
could take care of him.
 
He’ll need to
rest all day if he plans to join us tonight.
 
And I’m sure he does.
 
He’s been
looking forward to introducing you to everyone for weeks.
 
Now run along and eat something.
 
I may need your help, if you don’t mind too
much.”
 
Again, she dropped her voice to a
whisper.
 
“We might even find a minute or
two to ourselves, if we’re lucky.”

He
marched off to the kitchen, head reeling slightly with his rapid rise from the
depths of guilt-ridden despair to the pearly gates of a fool’s paradise.
 
Come
what may, for
as long as it could last, he would love Peg Shannon and be damned.
 
That thought, as he poured himself a cup of
steaming adrenaline, was far more exciting than it should have been.

The morning
was filled with a steady stream of tasks which at least helped hold his anxiety
to a mildly gut-twisting dread.
 
He
followed Peg around much like a besotted basset hound, fetching and carrying
and mentally wagging his tale in gratitude for her attention.
 
She was in her element, clearly experienced
with organizing an evening such as the one planned, and he was openly awed by
her stamina.
 

“Is all
this really necessary, just to have a few people in to dinner?” he asked as she
circled the dining table measuring each place setting for precise alignment of
china, silver and crystal.
 

Peg
glanced up from her ruler long enough to fire off a look that said he must be
joking.
 
“The number of people has
nothing to do with it.
 
Besides, this
party is in your honor, so I especially want everything to be perfect.”
 
With a final appraisal of her handiwork, she
rounded the table toward him.
 
“Time for
one quick kiss, and I have to start getting myself ready.”

With a
glance over his shoulder for good measure, he pulled her into his arms.
 
“So soon?
 
It’s only two o’clock.”
 
Her upturned face was too much to
resist.
 
A quick kiss was out of the
question.
 
He’d watched her all day with increasing
admiration and not a little lust.
 
In
this role, as every other, he found her intriguing and utterly adorable.
 
It was pointless to deny it, he’d let himself
fall in love with her and everything she did only drove him deeper into
forbidden territory.

“I have
to get out the smoke and mirrors, you know.
 
You won’t even recognize me by tonight.”
 

“Oh, I
doubt that.
 
You’ll be the one at that
end of the table, right?”
 
He dipped in
for another kiss, his hands traveling downward to mold her closer.
 

She
chuckled softly.
 
“That’s right.
 
You’ll be on my right, and Bernie Silverman
will be on my left.
 
I’m putting Mae
Hanbury next to you.
 
You’ll love her,
everyone does.
 
She and her husband just
happened to be in New York right now, and we always try to get together with
them when they’re here.
 
So they’re sort
of guests of honor too.”
 

“Ah,
yes, the philanthropists from Virginia.”
 
He made his
own brief scan of the table, noting the place cards hand lettered by Peg
herself.
 
“And let’s see, the von
Rosenbergs are coming specifically to meet Silverman.
 
Professor von Rosenberg has just accepted a
position at Julliard.
 
Mr. and Mrs. O’Hallaron
are coming because your father is trying to persuade him to take a position on
the foundation board, and Connie and Prue will even out the numbers, since you
were stuck with two unattached males.”
 

“Don’t
forget the Smiths.
 
She’s on the
Philharmonic board, and he’s running for city council.”
 

“That’s
right.
 
She’s the one I’m to watch out
for, should she have too much wine with dinner.”
 
He captured her mouth again, making the most
of her silence.
 
Their time together
would be limited now that Michael had returned, and while he knew the
importance of caution, opportunities like this were only the sweeter for their
scarcity.

By the
time he released her, all thought of caution had given way to a desire to whisk
her off to some private spot and pretend tonight could happen without either of
them in attendance.
 

“I
should go.
 
I should check on Dad.”
 
Her protest was contradicted by the mesmerizing
movement of her hands along his ribs.
 
He
was completely caught off guard when she looked up through her lashes and asked
softly, “Kendall, what happened to you?”
 
One finger traced a line just below his belt, and he sucked in his
breath sharply, his desire replaced by sickened dismay.

“What
do you mean?”

“The
scars.
 
I saw them last night.
 
What happened?”

There
were any number of answers he’d given in the past, casual lies that had always
come quite easily.
 
Why he couldn’t think
of a single one of them now, he had no idea.
 
“It was nothing.
 
It looks worse than it actually was.
 
How did
you.
. .?”
 

Her
finger passed back and forth, brushing the pleats of his trousers.
 
“I was curious.
 
And I don’t believe you.”
 
Her lower lip trembled suddenly.
 
“Did someone do that to you?”

“No, it
was an accident.
 
Peg, this is hardly the
time or place to discuss this.
 
And you
shouldn’t have taken advantage of me while I was sleeping.
 
You know what curiosity did to the cat, don’t
you?”
 
His lame attempt at teasing went
resoundingly flat.
 

“Whatever
it was, maybe someday you’ll tell me about it.
 
I just hate to think of someone hurting you like that.”
 
Sliding her arms around him, she hugged him
gently.
 
The move unnerved him and he
laid a tender hand on her hair.
 

“Don’t
think about it.
 
It was a long time ago
and it has nothing to do with us.”
 
He
knew he was talking more to himself than to Peg.
 
When she raised her head, he was stunned by
the look in her eyes.
 
Women had a way of
peering into a man’s soul, by-passing every arrogant attempt at masculine constraint.
 
Just now, he could feel Peg reading his
thoughts, probing the very core of his being, and he forced himself to shut her
out.
 
“Now go make yourself even more
beautiful.
 
I think I’ll practice a bit on
the off chance that I can develop some real talent before tonight.”

She
drew his head down and brushed her lips across his.
 
“I’m sorry you can’t tell me, but I’m not
sorry I found those scars.
 
Kendall,
I.
. .would you be upset if I said I love you?”

“No,
sweetheart, not upset.
 
But please be
very careful how you use that word.”

“I’m
not in love with you.
 
At least I don’t
think I am, but I care so much about you, I
want
so much for you.”
 
She folded her hands
over her heart.
 
“I feel so much for you
that it hurts, right here.
 
Is that
love?”

“Quite
possibly.
 
I’m experiencing a similar sensation, I’m
afraid.”
 
He had never kissed her more
tenderly.
 
Her response was much the
same, her hands gliding soothingly over his shoulders.
 
“Go, Peg.
 
We can only afford so much of this before we risk a great deal of
regret.”

Her
answer was a brief, searching look before she turned and left the room.
 
Everything about that look and her posture as
she mounted the stairs suggested she would welcome that risk.
 

Chapter
Twenty-three

Kendall
had expected to be in awe of a man like Bernard Silverman, so he was at first
surprised to find him an unassuming fellow with a pleasant manner and quite
ordinary conversational skills.
 
But as
the evening progressed from cocktails to dinner, his opinion began to
change.
 
Seated opposite Silverman, with
Peg at the end of the table between them, he became increasingly aware that the
man was flirting openly with his hostess, and more disturbingly, casting far
from subtle glances over the neckline of her dress.
 
Never mind that the dress was not
particularly revealing
,
the way he was ogling her, she
might as well have been half-naked.
 
He
was appalled that a man lauded for his genius and single-minded dedication to classical
music appeared to be, at nearly forty, no better than the randiest
teenager.
 
By the time the prime rib was
served, Kendall had decided Silverman might be brilliant and powerful, but he
was no gentleman and deserved to be put in his place.

When,
during a lull in the conversation, Peg rested her hand on the tablecloth near
his, he didn’t hesitate to grasp her fingers and give them a possessive squeeze,
glancing across to be sure the gesture wasn’t lost on Silverman.
 
“Everything going as you’d hoped?”

“Oh,
yes.
 
Dad’s having a good time.”
 
It was true, Michael had entertained his
guests with gusto all evening, keeping the conversation light and the laughter
flowing.
 
“Are you ready?”

He
nodded with more confidence than he might have earlier.
 
“Quite.”
 
Ready, he wanted to add, to show Maestro Silverman what he was made
of.
 
Bravado was not something he’d had
much experience with, but tonight it seemed to be coursing full strength
through his veins.

Turning
to Silverman, Peg said softly, “What have you planned for our entertainment,
Bernie?”

Silverman
looked pointedly across the table.
 
“I
took the liberty of bringing a number of pieces for Mr. Gregg to choose from,
unless he already has something in mind.
 
I thought we’d take a few minutes while everyone finishes dessert to
make our selection.”
 
His nod was much
like the toss of a gauntlet, and Kendall answered in kind.
 

“I’m
sure we can agree on something.
 
My
repertoire is somewhat limited, but I’m game for whatever you like.”
 

As if
he’d picked up the thread of their conversation, Michael called down the table
to them, “I trust you gentlemen have something spectacular in store for us
after dinner?
 
I’m eager for you to hear
my nephew play, Bernie.
 
And hopeful that
you’ll be so impressed you’ll help us persuade him to make the move to this
side of the pond.”

Kendall
felt himself blush, saw Peg’s color rise and heard the skepticism in
Silverman’s laughter.
 
If he hadn’t
already been willing to push himself to the limit, that subtle slur was enough
to do the trick.
 
“I’ll do my best, Uncle
Michael, to keep up with the maestro.”
 
With
a self-effacing nod to Silverman, he went on, “Not that I’m in the same league
of course, but I’ll try not to embarrass you.”

He
thought he saw sympathy flare in Silverman’s eyes.
 
“I wonder if we should excuse ourselves to
discuss the program, Mr.
Gregg?
 
Take a few minutes to get better
acquainted.
 
Peg, with
your permission?”
 

Adrenaline
starting to bubble, he pushed back his chair and followed Silverman across the
entry toward the living room.
 
What had initially
been a terrifying opportunity to make a fool of
himself
had now become a challenge to prove himself the worthier man, although he
acknowledged that a musical joust would likely prove who was the better
musician, and that prize must certainly go to Silverman.
 

Opening
a large leather briefcase, Silverman laid out a number of scores, some of them
apparently his own arrangements for piano and violin, along with Bach partitas,
a Sibelius Romance and the Faure Sonata in A.
 
A chill touched Kendall’s spine.
 
Fate, it seemed, had made the decision for him.
 
“The Faure, I think.”

Silverman
seemed surprised.
 
“The
entire thing?”

“Yes.”
 
He turned to his violin, already laid out on
the piano, as Silverman opened the score on a music stand.
 
“I won’t need that, thank you.”
 
More surprise, and now a glint of
suspicion.
 
Kendall shrugged, allowing a self-assured
grin to twitch his lips.
 
“Learned it years ago while at Oxford.
 
I look forward to playing it with someone as
accomplished as
yourself
.”
 
Without another word, he started to tune,
aware of the others beginning to file into the room.
 
He sensed Peg watching him, heard Michael
reeling off his educational credentials like a proud papa and felt as though he
were floating high above the group settling on the semi-circle of chairs around
the piano.
 

It was
imperative that he focus on the present and not permit his emotions to drift with
the music.
 
Above all, he couldn’t risk
allowing memory to play tricks on him.
 
He
played with his eyes fixed on Silverman, who performed with a great deal of
head wagging and showy fingering.
 
Not that he wasn’t also note-perfect,
but clearly he enjoyed
impressing his audience with his showmanship as well.
 
Kendall knew that in comparison, his own
style was low-key in the extreme.
 
But
only measures into the first movement, he could see he had Silverman’s
attention.
 
As they began to play
together, rather than separately, he saw the man’s gaze going from merely
curious to genuinely interested and finally to openly respectful.
 
In the course of the piece, he also
discovered his petty jealousy giving way to admiration for the man’s obvious
genius.
 
So what if he too found Peg
irresistible?
 
Who could blame him?
 

As for
Peg, out of the corner of his eye he could see her sitting at the front,
completely captivated by the music.
 
He
wondered what she would say if she knew the reason he had risked all to play this
piece tonight.
 
But to tell her that
would reveal too much.
 
He pulled up sharply,
forcing himself not to think, only to play.
 
Just a few more measures, some of the most moving of the entire
composition, and he would have made his point to Silverman and survived this
self-imposed ordeal.

Applause,
handshakes, shoulders clapped and Peg’s eyes shining with pride.
 
Michael saying he’d never heard finer.
 
Silverman pumping his arm and assuring him
that if London didn’t have the good sense to offer him a position, he’d be
welcome in New York.
 
The room was rapidly
closing in and he wondered if he could escape without Peg seeing his
anguish.
 
When Silverman agreed to sit
down to the keyboard again, Kendall moved to the back of the room and silently
slipped out.
 

The entry
seemed to spin above him as he blindly made for the kitchen thinking surely in
the garden there would be enough air to fill his lungs.
 
Tugging at the knot in his tie, he tore open
his collar and pushed his way out into the near-darkness.
 
Now the memories came, images flipping like
pages in a book before his mind’s eye.
 
Gulping
in air, he dropped onto the low bench near the door and, throwing back his
head, stared unseeing at the sky.
 

He was
unaware of Peg in the doorway until he heard her sympathetic gasp.
 
Before he could say anything, she sank to the
pavement at his feet, took his hands in hers and pressed them over her heart.
 
“That was so beautiful.
 
I had no idea. . .”

“That
I could play like that?”
 
He pulled a hand free, cupping her chin.
 
“I can’t.
 
It was all smoke and mirrors.”

“No.
 
It was wonderful.”
 
She leaned closer, touching his cheek.
 
“Kendall, please tell me about her.”

“Who?”
 

“The
girl you loved.
 
You said she was a
pianist.
 
That music, you played that
with
her,
didn’t you?”
 

He
should have known.
 
She’d always been
uncannily perceptive, even as a child.
 
“Yes.”
 

“And
those scars, they have something to do with her too, don’t they?’

“We
should go back inside.
 
They’ll wonder
what’s happened to you.”
 
He got to his
feet, fingering his tie.
 
Without a word,
Peg brushed his hand away and carefully retied it.
 

“When
you’re ready.
 
I think you need to tell me as much as I need
to know.”

He
couldn’t meet her eyes, choosing to stare at the pattern of light from the
kitchen windows.
 
“Perhaps.
 
But not now, not here.”
 
Holding out his arm, he forced a smile.
 
“The night’s still young.
 
And your guests are waiting.”

“The
night
is
still young.
 
And you can’t put me off that easily.”
 
Tucking her hand in the bend of his arm, she
tossed her head.
 
“We’ll talk about this
later.
 
Right now, I think you could use
a drink.
 
Dad should have some whiskey in
the study.”

“Ah, so
you think you can ply me with strong drink and have your way with me?”

“Of
course.
 
Although I’m not sure the drink is really
necessary.”

By the
time the last of the guests were gone, Kendall was exhausted.
 
He had smiled and accepted their kind words,
answered their questions and been, he hoped, appropriately gracious when
Silverman offered the opportunity for an official audition.
 
When Michael turned into his study, he declined
the invitation to join him for brandy and cigars, said goodnight and caught
sight of Peg, just coming from the dining room.

“Are
you going up?”

“I
am.
 
You may still have some bounce in
your step, but I’m feeling decidedly flat-footed.
 
I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’m
going to sit up with Dad for a while, rehash the party.”
 
Silently, she went on to mouth the word,
“Later.”

“No!”
he mouthed back.

Her eyes
answered that she would have things her way.
 
He mounted the stairs with the unsettling awareness that she would do
just that, no matter the risk or how much he might protest.
 

He had
dozed off in the chair, hoping against hope that Peg wouldn’t come.
 
When she slipped silently into the room, he
opened his eyes reluctantly, seeing her through a blur of dim light and
weariness.
 
She was still dressed,
looking ridiculously fresh after so many hours.
 
When she knelt by the chair, he was mesmerized by the sight of her, the enchanting
way her eyes reflected the deep blue of her dress, her skin glowed against the
creamy chiffon circling her shoulders, and her hair, wound into a simple knot
at the back of her head, shimmered like burnished wood in the lamp light.
 
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely,
still not fully awake.
 

“I’m
sorry I took so long.
 
Dad was really
wound up.
 
He’s so proud of you.
 
And he’s determined that you’re going to move
to New York.
 
He plans to talk with you
tomorrow about it.”

He
straightened in the chair, shaking off the persistent drowsiness.
 
“What time is it?”

“Just
a little past midnight.
 
I’m glad you waited up.”
 
Peg seemed uncommonly shy, searching him with
a gaze he couldn’t quite read.
 
When he
reached for her, she perched on the arm of the chair, resting her arm across
his shoulders.
 
“Kendall, please talk to
me.”