William stood quickly. 'Mandy –'

'Do I look like the sort of person who has private lessons from anyone?' I asked. 'You need to check your sources, Chantelle. It doesn't sound like they know what they're talking about.'

Chantelle blushed hotly, faltering under William's angry gaze and the confidence of my reply. I wouldn't let the conversation drift anywhere near Gideon Wickham, not when it would cause Amanda so much pain.

I picked up the dropped bow and handed it back to Amanda. 'I hope you don't mind playing with an amateur. I'll be relying on you to make me sound better than I really am.'

She smiled. 'You shouldn't have so little faith in your skills. Don't forget, I've already heard you play once.'

'You heard me butcher a piece of art once,' I corrected.

'We'll have to agree to disagree on that. But I think you'll find that William enjoyed your playing as much as I did.'

'Enjoyed is a strong word,' William teased. He squeezed my shoulder gently. I hoped that he understood I'd only interrupted him to spare his sister's feelings. The tenderness in his eyes suggested that he had. 'What are you thinking of playing for us, Bennett?'

'How do you feel about Scarlatti's Sonata K thirty-nine?' Amanda suggested.

'I was hoping we could play Born to be Wild, but it's a good second choice.'

Maybe she'd thought I was joking about needing her support, but there was no denying Amanda's talent. The piece was one played with nervous energy, and it seemed that I was providing the nervous while she had all the energy. It was criminal that I should presume to impose on her abilities with my inadequate accompaniment, especially when she could have easily found a place in a symphony orchestra. If I'd been playing with anyone else, I might have been intimidated by them. Instead, it made me want to work harder. Amanda played with such passion and energy that I did the same, living in the music rather than reading it off the page and playing a strict and honest rendition. Gideon might have told me I shouldn't be afraid to pursue music if I were passionate about it, but Amanda was showing me just how liberating that could be.

'That,' said Dad when we were done, 'was much better than spending a night in front of the television. You were fantastic, girls. Really.'

'Thanks, Mr Bennett,' Amanda said. She set her violin and bow back into their case carefully. 'You haven't seen the house yet, right? How about a tour?'

'I'd love that, thank you.'

'And, you know, Henry told me that Beth didn't have time to see the grounds the other day. Maybe Will could show her?' she suggested nonchalantly. There was nothing innocent about the way she smiled in my direction.

She was trying to give us some time alone.

I didn't have the courage to speak up and say that William likely didn't want to show me around the garden, or that I would rather join her and my father on a tour of the house. Chantelle made a point of trying to follow us outside, but Charlie soon steered his sister back into the house and offered hasty apologies before closing the door behind them.

The grounds were illuminated by lights strung in the trees and staked into the ground, all of them twinkling white like hundreds of stars had descended upon us. It was painfully quiet, and I wrapped my arms around myself, keeping a respectable distance between us as we strolled through the trees. I was desperate to say something which might dispel the air of awkwardness which had settled, but I couldn't think of a single thing that wouldn't make me sound stupid.

'Your friends seem fun,' he said at last, saving me from leading the conversation.

'They are,' I agreed.

'A lot of them are guys.'

'You noticed that, did you?' I asked.

'Is that Lewis kid your boyfriend?'

I snorted softly with laughter. 'No. We have a history.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. It was really heated, you know? So much passion, and we were going to run away and get married. It was all so romantic.' I sighed. 'Naturally, it ended in tragedy.'

'You're joking.'

'No. It's all true,' I affirmed. 'I mean, I was ten so I should've known it was doomed to fail.'

'Funny. Hilarious. You could have just said you didn't have a boyfriend.'

'I never said that,' I countered.

'So, you do?'

I laughed. 'No. I'm incredibly single. And I think I'm going to stay that way for a long time.'

'All right, I get it. I'll stop asking,' he said. 'So, what was that with your Dad before?'

I stopped and leaned back against an obliging tree. William came to a halt, waiting on my explanation. There was a lot about my family that I liked to keep private. It wasn't just because I didn't feel that my life could compare to that of my wealthy friends, but I didn't like reliving certain events from my childhood. There were some things I didn't think Meg, Chrissy or Lisa could ever understand. In fact, the only other person who knew anything about my life before Netherfield had been Jenny. Still, William had proven that he could be a half-decent human being over the course of the past couple of days, and I hoped that he would conceal my history as I had his sister's.

'I used to take piano lessons when I was little. And guitar. And singing. I'm also pretty good with a triangle, but I don't like showing off.'

'And you quit?'

'My teacher did. You met her, actually.'

It took him a moment to understand what I was telling him. Finally, it all made sense. I could see the realisation in his eyes. 'Your mother taught you?'

'She used to be a singer. Most of her stuff flopped, but he had enough one-hit-wonders that most of my Dad's generation knows who she is. The money ran out fast, but she's still riding her fame where she can.' I shrugged. 'I guess that's why she likes marrying rich guys. It reminds her of the good old days.'

'Doesn't your dad own a garage?'

'He was a racer. Lots of sponsorship deals, world travel, and nice shiny trophies. Mum liked the lifestyle, and he liked having her waiting in the pits for him when he won. They had me. But he kept on racing. We had to stay home because I was too little to go along to the competitions. Mum let me watch them on television. I remember the last race I saw him in...' I clasped my arms around myself. 'He was out on a wet track, but he was doing okay. It wasn't like he hadn't raced in those conditions before. He could have made the podium, but the driver ahead lost control and rolled his car. Dad swerved, but the car behind didn't change course in time. He rear-ended Dad so hard that it flipped the car and sent him into the barrier.'

'How old were you?' William's eyes had pinched with concern as though the accident had only happened the day before.

'Nine.'

'And your father?'

'Was told he couldn't race again. Broken legs, broken back, the works. When the doctors said that he might not walk again, Mum packed her bags and moved out. We moved in with my grandfather at his garage while Dad recovered. I was too little to do much to help, but I tried. I mean, at least I stuck around, which was more than she did. She's been marriage-hopping ever since.'

'Does your grandfather still live with you?' William asked.

'He died before I went to boarding school and left the place to my Dad. He still likes being around fast cars, but all his trophies are in boxes in the loft. I think it hurts him too much to look at them.'

'Is that why you gave up taking music so seriously?' William asked. 'Because you were too busy helping your Dad?'

I scuffed my shoe in the dirt, using it as a distraction so I wouldn't have to look at him. I didn't want him to read the lie in my eyes when I said, 'It was just something I played around with. I never took it that seriously to begin with.'

'I don't believe that.'

'Yeah, because you're stubborn,' I laughed. 'You don't believe much of anything about me.'

'I believe that you like playing the piano more than you let on,' he said. 'And that you could make a career out of it if you trusted in your abilities a little more.'

A lump rose in my throat and I fought to swallow it back down. There was no way that I was going to show any more weakness in front of William than I had already. 'Maybe,' I said. 'But I'm also a realist, and I don't want to turn into my mother. If I can make a modest career out of music then, great. If not, I'm okay with taking over the garage from Dad. I'd rather make an honest living than have a fortune and no morals like her.'

William stepped towards me and placed his warm hand on my arm. 'I don't think anyone would ever accuse you of having no morals, or of turning into your mother. I also want to thank you, Bennett.'

'For what?'

'For not talking about Gideon in front of my family.'

'Well, I'm not really part of his fan club anymore,' I said. It disgusted me to think I'd had a crush on him once, and that my heart had fluttered when he'd smiled at me. It was the smile of a predator about to kill its prey, of a man who knew nothing about sincerity or genuine feelings.

I hoped that Gideon fell out of a gondola in Italy and drowned.

'I'm relieved to hear it,' William said.

I let out a scant breath, trying to keep a firm handle on my feelings. 'I'm sorry I slapped you, by the way.'

'I deserved it.'

'I can't disagree,' I said. It hadn't escaped my notice that his hand was still on my arm, nor that I was happy for it to be there. I swallowed every last ounce of pride that I had and said, 'I'm going to be down at the beach again tomorrow morning.'

'Surfing with your friends?'

'No, the water's too cold for me that early. I usually walk down to watch the sunrise.'

'Alone?'

I laughed softly. His incessant questioning was making it more difficult for me to get to the point. 'Do you always ask so many questions?'

'Only when I want to get to know someone better.'

Thank God it was dark so he couldn't see me blush. 'If you can get up early enough, meet me at the café at five.'

'What for?'

Despite every rational thought and feeling, I brought his hand to my lips and kissed his fingers lightly. It was a chaste connection, as light and fleeting as a brush from a butterfly's wing. I met his gaze with my own and said, 'I want to show you why this place is so special to me.'