His Every Kiss
Chapter One
London
March 1832
The ostrich plume was tickling her nose, and
there was nothing Grace Cheval could do
about it. She slid the bow across the strings of her
violin, trying to concentrate on the allegro of Vivaldi's
L'Autunno, rather than on the huge feather
that had come loose from her hat and fallen forward
across her cheek. She prayed she wouldn't
sneeze.
The feather wasn't her only problem. Ballrooms
were always too warm, especially at these
crowded charity affairs. Worse, the ball was Fancy
Dress, and the costume she had been given to
wear did not help. The heavy velvet doublet of a
highwayman made playing her violin for an entire
evening a tiring business. The combination of doublet, plumed hat, and leather mask made her
feel as if she were in an oven. As she played, Grace
shook her head several times, trying to get the ostrich
plume out of her face without missing a note
of the music, but it was a futile attempt. The silly
thing insisted on falling right back down again to
tickle her nose.
Vivaldi finally ended, much to her relief. As the
couples who had been engaged in the quadrille
left the ballroom floor, she set her violin and bow
in her lap, then lifted her hands to yank ... read full excerpt from: His Every Kiss ebook
