An Irresistible Temptation (24 page)

Miss Sophie Malloy, pianist.

Not Sophie Wainright! She was most definitely
not in Cambridge, nor the wife of a philosophy professor.

He realized he’d said her name out loud when
the man smiled. “She’s playing on one of our Weber’s tonight.
Concert grand, rosewood case.” And the older gentleman stepped
aside holding the door open. “Maybe you’d better come in.”

*****

Sophie decided on her pale cream gown. It
would show well against the rich wood of the piano and her own dark
hair. Her hands were steady as she smoothed the fabric and reached
for her gloves. She’d prepared a lifetime for this moment, and no
small amount of training had taken place in the last two months
since returning to San Francisco. They’d rehearsed daily and
finally, tonight, they would show the patrons what they were
capable of—Beethoven. Tomorrow, Wagner.

Backstage, Henry was everywhere at once,
moving quickly, speaking faster, and delivering last-minute
instructions to everyone. He looked dashing in his tailcoat but the
effect was spoiled by the way he kept running his fingers through
his hair, ruining its smoothness and making it stand straight up on
top.

She put her hand on his arm at one point. He
jumped.

“Fear not, Sophie, you’ll be splendid.”

She smiled. She was blessed with no stage
fright at all, but didn’t like to boast. She relied on the fact
that she was utterly prepared.

“Henry, we will all be splendid. Now, you
must get in position. You’re going to make a speech, remember?”

“My speech!” He patted down his pockets, then
sighed. “Right here. Yes, I’m ready.”

“Of course you are,” she said and moved away
to her side of the stage. Then she heard the applause begin as
Henry walked out onto the stage in front of the curtain. Behind it,
they all took their places at their instruments; those who weren’t
nervous gave smiles all around. She saw Otto run back off stage to
throw up, as he’d done during the dress rehearsals all week. James,
the stage manager, kept a bucket ready and Otto was back in his
chair in less than thirty seconds.

A few minutes later, she heard the applause
again and then, at last, the red velvet curtain parted. The lights
were already down in the theater and Sophie could see nothing but
the occasional glowing tip of a man’s cigar. They began at once
under Henry’s magnificent conducting. After the first song, the
lights came up and Henry introduced the principal musicians.

Sophie nodded when he said her name and
looked toward the audience. Her slight smile froze.

In the front row, only feet away from her sat
Riley. Then the house lights went out. She hadn’t had time to see
if Eliza sat beside him. As they started again, she nearly missed
her first cue, which annoyed her tremendously.

When the lights came on at intermission, his
seat was empty. Puzzled, she found herself scanning the aisles and
then went backstage to drink a cup of tea with the rest of the
orchestra. Later, after the performance, they would switch to
champagne, but Sophie was already feeling lightheaded by the
excitement of opening night combined with the surprise of seeing
Riley.

That he should show up in the front row and
then leave the seat vacant was beyond aggravating.

Another hour later, after they’d all stood
and bowed, the curtain closed for the last time. Exhausted, the
orchestra nonetheless was jubilant. If the insistent demand for an
encore, which they’d happily given, was any indication, then the
evening had been a rousing success. She’d noticed Riley’s still
empty seat, starting to think she’d imagined seeing him.

Sophie ran to Henry as he came backstage.

“You were brilliant. We all were,” she said,
so proud to be part of this young orchestra.

“We were, weren’t we? We had them! Could you
feel it?” he asked referring to the audience.

“Ludwig had them,” Sophie said, grabbing a
glass of champagne that came by on a tray. “Tomorrow, Wagner
will.”

“Sophie,” James said to her, “there’s a man
to see you, stage right.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking a gulp of
champagne, then wishing she hadn’t. Then she took another one and
handed James her empty glass. She made her way to the side of the
stage, hugging her fellow musicians along the way. It had been even
better than she’d imagined. And now—

Riley.

He was watching her approach with a wide
smile on his face. She hesitated, unsure how to greet this man who
had been her lover but could really be nothing to her socially.
Why was he here?

“Sophie,” he said with jubilance and took
both her hands in his. She froze as he kissed them, both of them,
twice, wholly inappropriate and sending shivers through her.
Regaining her senses, she yanked them away.

“You’re here,” he said emphatically. “You’re
actually here.”

“I am,” she said.

“I thought you’d left.”

“I had.” She was having trouble putting her
words together with the bubbly drink inside of her, but she added,
“I came back.”

“I see that. You were amazing. I couldn’t
take my eyes off you.”

“Liar.” She covered her mouth with her hand.
She’d sounded angry when she meant to be teasing. “I mean, I saw
you very briefly during the introductions, but you were gone by
intermission.”

“A woman had a baby,” he smiled
self-consciously.

“What? No! During the concert?” She felt a
little giddy, and tried harder to be serious. “Why on earth was she
here?” What woman in her right mind would be out if she was so far
along?

“She wasn’t a patron. She was staff and
apparently needed the wages, right up until the end.”

“How did anyone know you were a doctor?”

“Almost a doctor,” he amended. “It’s a long
story, but I got my ticket for tonight at the last minute and was
speaking with Mr. Shepherd—”

“From the piano store?”

“Yes, we came here together, but apparently
he prefers to watch from the back. I had mentioned about attending
the medical college. When he heard the woman’s distress, he sent
for me.”

Riley gave her another smile. “I missed only
a little of the concert, right before intermission. Mother and
child are safe at the hospital now. It was a boy. She’s naming him
Mozart.”

“You’re joking!”

“I am.”

She giggled.

“I returned to the hall as you started to
play again, but I couldn’t return to my seat. You sounded equally
stupendous from in the back as you did from up front.” He took her
hand again, this time to examine it. “It’s well-healed, don’t you
think?”

Sophie couldn’t think, not with him holding
her hand and running his thumb over her knuckles, his head bowed in
concentration. His dear head, which she’d never thought to see up
close again. When he looked up, their eyes locked and she could
swear she felt a jolt.

“Why are you here?” she asked him. All at
once, the champagne was making her feel a bit weepy. This was
supposed to be a celebratory night, but Riley’s presence made her
feel pain and remorse, as well as the desperate desire to be home
in her new flat away from everyone.

“I was hoping you’d let me take you to
dinner.”

She was so shocked that she couldn’t speak.
Then Henry and his brother, Arthur, and Otto came over.

“We’re heading to supper, Sophie. Are you
coming?” Henry asked.

“Yes,” she said at once. “I am. It was nice
to see you, Mr. Dalcourt.” Though it hadn’t been nice at all. It
had been startling and disquieting, and seeing him had made her
feel all manner of unsettling sensations. “Give my best to . . .”
she trailed off. Blue blazes! She couldn’t say it.

Instead, she took one of Otto’s arms and one
of Henry’s and urged them forward. When she turned away, Riley’s
face was not amused.

They’d taken three steps when she heard him
say clearly, “I am not marrying Eliza. Ever.”

She stopped and the others stopped with her.
She closed her eyes. Had she heard him right? Then Riley added,
“Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me, Miss
Malloy?”

She felt Otto pull away from her right side
so she could turn and answer. Instead, she turned to Henry on her
left.

“I think I won’t be having supper with you
after all.”

Henry nodded. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.”
He released her arm and looked at Riley. “Sir, take care of our
star pianist and make sure she gets to bed at a decent hour.”

Sophie gasped and Arthur coughed at his
brother’s indelicacy. Henry turned beet red at what his words might
convey. But Riley nodded seriously. “I’ll do that, sir. You may
count on it.”

They spoke very little on their way to
dinner, at a restaurant a block away. Sophie was hit with all the
nerves that she hadn’t felt opening before a full house. Having
just played her first concert, she was already over the moon. And
now, going to dinner with Riley, she could barely stand her nervous
excitement.

“You’re humming,” he said to her, with
laughter in his voice, as he held the bistro door open for her. She
blushed. It was late, early diners had all gone home. A few theater
people remained, along with the concert-goers. They managed to get
a private table away from the chilled street window, away from any
noise. As soon as they sat, Riley took her hands again and merely
stroked them.

“I am so happy to be touching you,” he said,
his voice low. “I’ve thought of nothing else since I saw your name
in the newspaper.”

She shivered. She’d dreamed of feeling his
hands on her many times. That he was with her, sitting in a
restaurant, sharing a mundane meal, seemed a dream in itself. She
smiled at him and watched as his own face spread into a slow
grin.

“Thinking you were three thousand miles away,
I nearly fell off my chair when I read your name,” he said. “How
long have you been back?”

“A couple months,” she admitted.

“You never tried to contact me.” He sounded
surprised.

“I saw little point in doing so,” she
admitted. “Not from how things were when you . . .”

“When I left you at The Grand.”

She stared at him and he stared back. She
couldn’t help but relive their last encounter, and Sophie felt her
cheeks grow hot. He raised one of her hands to his lips and kissed
it, then the other. She thought that it was a good idea they were
in a public dining room. Besides, she still had questions.

“What happened with Eliza?”

“Her father died and all she wanted was to be
free.”

“How convenient for you.”

She didn’t mean to sound catty, did she? But
she felt it, nonetheless.

Riley frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You would have gone through with it and
married her, no matter how we felt about each other, right?”
No
matter how much I loved you.
She pulled her hands out of his
grasp. “So it’s convenient that she let you go.”

He skewered her with his gaze. “To be
precise, I let
her
go. I told Eliza I couldn’t marry
her.”

“Oh,” Sophie said in a small voice.

“She gave us her approval, in her way.”

Sophie tried to imagine how that conversation
took place.

“Does Eliza know?” She blushed again. “What
we did, I mean?”

“No, but she could tell how I felt about you.
How I still feel about you.” He picked up his glass of wine, then
set it down without drinking it. “Sophie, can you forgive me?”

She was startled. “Forgive you? Whatever
for?”

“I should never have let things happen as
they did. If any other man had treated you such, I would shoot
him.”

“Then I guess we’re both fortunate that it
was you.”

He shook his head at her attempt at humor.
“What happened with Wainright? Last I heard, you were heading east,
ready to get a big, fat diamond and a marriage license.”

“It sounds as though you spoke with
Carling.”

“The day after you left.”

She gasped. “Oh my God.”

Finally, he did smile. “That’s how I felt. I
thought I’d lost you by only a day. Can you imagine? And since you
were heading all the way to Massachusetts with the man, I figured
you must love him.” He paused, looking at her intently; obviously
the question was still on his mind.

“I didn’t, and I don’t,” she said quietly.
She watched him accept her words and relax.

“If Carling hadn’t made it sound as though
you were about to march down the aisle, Sophie, I would have come
after you.”

“Carling was trying to protect me.”

“I know, but she could have told you two
months ago that I’d come looking for you.”

“Did you tell her about Eliza and that you’d
broken off your engagement?”

“No.” He looked sheepish. “I was standing in
The Palace and I had an audience.”

“Then she was right not to interfere. She
didn’t want to see me with a broken heart.”
Again.

They finished their meal on safer territory,
talking about the last classes he was completing before graduation
as well as his clinical work, and she told him stories of the crazy
musicians that made up the orchestra.

When she was feeling truly exhausted and had
lost the surge of energy from the performance, he escorted her
home.

“Better than Russian Hill,” he said, walking
her up the steps of a massive mansion on Gough street. Opposite was
Jefferson Square Park, with its palm trees and open space.

“You haven’t seen inside yet,” she blurted
out, then realized that sounded as though she were inviting him in.
“I feel safer here anyway,” she added, thinking she might start
talking nonsense with him so close.

“I definitely think it’s a step up.” He took
her key and opened the door to the common entryway. He hesitated,
as did she. Then he chuckled.

“What?” she asked.