Geoffrey said, leaning on his mother’s pianoforte. Alessandra smiled up at him, still playing, her fingers moving in the correct patterns even as she spoke. “I enjoy playing the pianoforte.” “Geoffrey sings well,” Lady Chenmarth announced from her seat next to Alessandra on the two-person bench. “But this deep voice of mine can only croak. I tell people I am singing the alto part, and most of them believe me. Shall we?” Alessandra played and they all sang “The Rose That Blooms in Winter” and “Ye Brave Young Men” and several songs from Sunday Services. “You do have a nice voice,” Alessandra said to Geoffrey, looking up at him as her fingers idly tinkled across the keys. He looked up from the sheet music he had been thumbing through and smiled at her. “Thank you.” Her heart skipped a beat, making her stare for a moment. Then she focused her eyes downward, on her fingers against the keys as she began to play again, something, she could not have said what later.
