Violin Concerto in E Major, D. 50: I. Allegro, by Giuseppe Tartini

The following day, Amalia left her camp feeling almost cheerful. She was delighted to return to the manor. She had spent a great time there the day before, and she couldn't wait to enjoy the beautiful estate again.

For as long as she could remember, she had never eaten so many sweets in one sitting. Not even the day her brothers had stolen a crate full of goods from a baker. She hoped that today they would have another trolley of tea, cakes, biscuits, and various pastries. It was a great bonus to her already incredible situation.

The earl was turning out to be a nice surprise, too. And while he didn't seem to be the murderous type, she'd taken her knife with her again, just in case. She wasn't entirely sure what to think of him yet. He was handsome, rich, and powerful, and he had that arrogant assurance that came with all of it. He seemed to want to treat her as an equal, but she knew she had to remain careful. There was no way to know for how long he'd find her entertaining, and everything could change with a snap of his fingers.

Before that, she'd make sure to earn as much money as she could.

Just as she was coming out of the small path in the woods, arriving at the main road, she saw the earl's carriage, waiting at the exact spot they'd left her yesterday. Confused, she frowned, staring at the armories painted on the door. She had thought they would only take care of her after the lessons, not also pick her up before.

Dismissing her disarray, she walked faster to the ridiculously extravagant vehicle and slipped into the passenger seat. The coach driver clicked his tongue, and the carriage rolled away. Once again, she looked around at the luxurious inside, admiring the details and the ornaments. The opulence brought her mind back to the grandeur of the manor, and her thoughts then drifted to the earl.

It was still uncertain how she could help him get better at the violin. She wasn't quite sure how she was doing it herself, so putting it into words and passing it onto him was a complicated task. In all honesty, she was still confident he was better than her at this.

All the way to the manor, she tried to come up with the best approach, struggling to sort her thoughts into a logical process. When they passed the massive gate of the estate, she straightened up, nervous.

As soon as she stepped out of the coach, she immediately spotted the earl, waiting for her by the main entrance. Gripping her violin's case firmly, she went to him, forcing herself to appear relaxed. She wasn't sure if he was the reason she felt so tense or if the splendor surrounding her was too much, reminding her she was nothing compared to him.

"Good afternoon," the earl greeted her, as dashing and welcoming as the day before. She plastered a smile on her face and bowed her head slightly to greet him back.

He invited her inside, and she was glad she wouldn't have to deal with the butler this time. Side by side, they walked to the music parlor. Once more, Amalia couldn't help but marvel at her surroundings, her curiosity eating her from the inside each time they passed by a door. By the time they reached their destination, she was filled with questions. What was behind it? What was this room for? And who needed so many rooms, anyway? Maybe one day, she'd get the chance to visit the whole place and get her answers.

The moment they entered, Amalia went to put her case down and took out her violin to get prepared for the lesson. When she moved to the middle, ready to start, the earl glanced at her with amusement before shaking his head and going to fetch his instrument.

"What shall today's lesson be?" he asked, approaching her with his fine instrument.

"I was thinking we could work on breathing?" she suggested. The entire evening before, she'd trained, focused on everything that happened when she played. She had noticed that unconsciously, she followed the rhythm and changes of the music with her breath. Her lungs filled and emptied with the melody, not only helping with the motion of her arm but also bringing her closer to the piece, giving it a life of its own.

"I have been doing it successfully for over twenty-five years now. I think I'm good with that one," the earl joked with a mischievous smile.

She tried to ignore the way she felt at the sight of his charming grin but failed. She managed to hide it and shook her head. "I mean, we will focus on breathing in sync with the music." He seemed somehow hesitant, doubting this would actually work. "It should help you get closer to the melody and will make you live with it."

This was all pure conjecture. She had no idea if it could work or how any of it worked. But from the very start, she'd warned him she wasn't a teacher. It was his fault for hiring her when she'd specifically explained that she wouldn't know how to help him.

Still dubious, the earl eventually agreed to her strange exercise, and she gave him some instructions. During the next two hours, she watched him play, carefully observing his posture, correcting him when his mind slipped away from the exercise. Sometimes she would take her own instrument and play for a while, to demonstrate what she expected from him.

He could do it for a moment, and then his rigidness kicked in and he would forget about loosening up and following the music. Amalia wasn't a particularly patient person, and his repeated failure to comply soon began to irritate her. At some point, she put down her instrument and moved to him, ignoring his confusion as she approached.

"You are too stiff. You need to stop thinking so much about what comes next and live in the moment," she explained as she reached him.

"Trust me, I usually very much live in the moment, but somehow, when it comes to music – things are different. I can be carefree with just about anything, but it's impossible with violins. I think it's because of how severe my first instructor was. He used to put the fear of God in me."

"Still, you have to detach yourself from this if you want to play like me," she insisted, not feeling sorry for him. If they had to compare terrible childhoods, she was pretty sure she would win this one. Standing behind him – and without thinking – she wrapped her arms around his chest. "Keep playing, and when I tighten my hold, exhale. When I give you room, inhale."

He remained unmoving, his arms mid-air. "Start playing," she insisted.

After a short moment of hesitation, he complied and resumed his position. Amalia focused on the piece he'd chosen, tightening around him and releasing.

Without even realizing it, her mind drifted, and she forgot about what she had to do. He smelled good, but not because of perfume or cologne. He smelled clean, and she perceived the neutral scent of his soap and the lavender fragrance of his clothes. There was also something that was purely him – a manly, earthy odor. Plastered against him as she was, she could feel the rigidness of his muscles under the many layers of their clothes. Her entire front seemed to warm up, absorbing his heat.

She was suddenly feeling light-headed; the proximity encasing her in some strange cloudy trance. She closed her eyes, wanting to focus on the odd situation, before opening them quickly when he cleared his throat and stopped playing.

"Alright, love. I'm getting stiff in a place I wasn't, so I think we should call it a day," he declared.

Amalia let go of him instantly, only seeing now how inappropriate it was to act like this. Mortified, she scolded herself internally for her foolish action. She was rather tactile, never passing an occasion to hug a friend or someone from her family, but she should have noticed how different this case was. From what she knew of the British elite, people were very formal and distant, to the point that they avoided touching each other's skin. What of a bohemian embracing an earl as she had done? What level of offense was that?

She looked up at him and was relieved to see amusement instead of dread in his eyes. Slowly, his words echoed in her mind, and she eventually understood what he'd said. I'm getting stiff in a place I wasn't...

Her jaw dropped with consternation, and she did her best not to look down at his crotch to confirm her supposition. She may have been innocent in many ways, but she had learned a thing or two about male anatomy in the course of her life. At least enough to know what he meant.

"You— You—" she stuttered, appalled.

"Oh, calm down, you were the one all pressed up against me."

Vexed, Amalia released an exasperated breath, not sure what to say. Yes, she had acted recklessly, but she hadn't meant it like that at all. Angry at herself as much as she was at him, she went to get her discarded violin and bow, and then shoved them in their old case.

"Are you seriously leaving?" the earl asked, baffled.

"Yes. I told you I wouldn't be here for this, so you can't talk to me about your... parts," she hesitated, her hand waving in the general direction of the front of his trousers.

"Alright, I'm sorry. It won't happen again," he atoned, seeming genuine. "I swear I won't refer to my parts anymore."

She looked at him, wondering if she could trust him. For some reason, women like her were considered loose and easy. But she had never met a woman more feisty than a bohemian. If the earl could get into his skull that she wasn't some low-hanging fruit waiting to be taken, she would consider staying.

"I have a fiancé, you know," she lied with boldness.

The earl's face darkened at the revelation, his brows furrowed. "I didn't know that, no."

"Well, I do. He is very tall, and strong. And he cares about me a lot," she improvised. When she saw the dubious look on his face, his eyebrow cocked up, she worried she might have gone too far.

"Just to be very clear about one thing, Amalia. I have never, and will never, force myself on a woman," he explained coldly. "You can go ahead and invent yourself a fiancé you don't have if you want, but don't do it because you're scared that I might take advantage of you."

Positively tongue-tied, Amalia stayed unmoving. Somehow, she'd offended him. She'd hurt him in his pride by assuming that he would force her into something she wasn't willing to give. For an instant, she wondered if she should apologize. Getting on his bad side wasn't an option because not only could he have her jailed, but it would also cut the lucrative income he was providing.

She opened her mouth to atone at the same moment someone knocked at the door. The earl ordered the newcomer to enter, and a footman opened the door before rolling in a trolley with tea and snacks.

Amalia salivated at the sight of the delicious-looking pastries and barely noticed when the earl dismissed the servant. Just like the day before, they settled down in the sitting area and had their tea and biscuits. The room was awfully silent, and it made her regret having invented a fiancé.

The appropriate moment to make amends didn't come, and it was only when he accompanied her to the carriage that she mustered the courage to do it.

"I'm sorry. About the lie," she declared as they were getting down the stairs. "I'm never alone with men, and I'm not sure how to proceed."

"I'm always alone with women, but I'm afraid I'll have to figure this one out too," he answered with humor, letting her understand he wasn't angry with her.

She bit back a smile, not wanting to encourage him with the allusions. She was used to inappropriate innuendos, since her brothers never missed an opportunity for those. But it felt somehow different when it came from the earl. As if it affected her in an entirely new way.

They reached the carriage, and he opened the door for her before offering her his hand to help her up.

"I will see you tomorrow, then. And we will practice... drinking water?" he tried with humor.

This time, Amalia didn't resist the urge to smile at his small jab. "You were the one foolish enough to pay me so handsomely for lessons," she noted, not departing from her grin. "You shall endure whatever exercises I come up with."

It was his turn to smile, and she noted he had impeccable white teeth that were perfectly aligned. It made him even more dashing, if such a thing were possible, which probably explained why her heart fluttered in her chest the way it did. "I'm positively anxious to see what you shall come up with next," he answered, bowing his head gracefully.

Not taking his hand, Amalia climbed into the car, settling her violin next to her.

"I will try to think of something a little more substantial than breathing," she promised. He chuckled low, closing the door before ordering the driver to go after one last glance at her.

On the way back, Amalia found herself grinning several times. Maybe for once in her life, luck was smiling at her, and nothing bad would come from this arrangement. The earl seemed to be a decent man, after all. And despite his teasing, she might grow to enjoy his company.

Admittedly, she had never met a man quite like him, but how different could he be from the others? She'd been fending off men for years now, and this one wouldn't be any different. Regardless of how attractive he might be or how charming he was, she would maintain a safe and reasonable distance between them.

Since the chapter ends on a lighter note, I thought I'd propose this piece by Giuseppe Tartini: Violin Concerto in E Major, D. 50: I. Allegro.