He nodded once. "Better."
Matilda looked at him. "You approve?"
"I suspect my approval is irrelevant."
"That has not stopped you before."
"An excellent point." He folded his hands behind his back. "Then, yes, I approve."
She looked down at the blank page. "Beckham will not."
"Mr. Beckham seems disappointed whenever reality fails to be convenient."
"He can damage my prospects."
Robert's humor faded. "I know."
Matilda had not expected the seriousness in his voice. "Do you?"
"A publisher decides what reaches the public. A patron decides whom to invite. A hostess decides who is respectable. People like Mr. Beckham and Mrs. Dracott survive because each individual act of exclusion looks small." He glanced toward the unfinished score. "Until someone realizes an entire life can be built out of small exclusions."
Matilda stared at him. "You have thought about this."
"Since breakfast."
"That is not very long."
"I think quickly when irritated."
"And are you irritated?"
"Profoundly."
She smiled despite herself. Robert saw it and softened. "There. Evidence of success."
"I was not aware amusement was your objective."
"Neither was I."
The words lingered a moment too long. Matilda looked away first. She sat at the pianoforte and opened the unfinished score. "The ending still does not work."
Robert moved no closer than propriety allowed. "Because it returns too easily?"