kind to my old Eton chum here. He has had the devil of a time with the fairer sex in recent years.”
The reminder of Tom’s past and the woman who had broken his heart was unwanted. Hyacinth could not help but to wonder if the duke had intentionally made reference to it. Was he that obtuse, or was he needling his old Eton chum? She hardly knew enough of Brandon to be certain. His eyes, however, were assessing. They seemed to see everything.
What a strange man he was.
She hardly felt comfortable leaving Lottie at his mercy.
“I believe I must remain here with Lady Grenfell,” she said, casting a glance in her friend’s direction. “We were just having the most amusing discussion.”
“Yes, I do believe we overheard.” Brandon’s tone was grim, his lips taking on a wry twist.
“She meant no insult, Your Grace,” Lottie said quickly. “Lady Southwick and I are honored for the invitation, of course.”
“Hmm,” he said, noncommittally. “You ought not to be, my dear. But now you are here, you may as well partake of the amusements.”
Lottie blinked at him from behind her mask, apparently not knowing what to do with such a response. A rarity for her friend—speechlessness.
He offered Lottie his arm, saving her from the necessity of response. “A dance?”
“I would be delighted,” her friend breathed, placing her hand in the crook of the duke’s elbow without hesitation.
Brandon whisked her away at once, leaving Hyacinth staring after them, alone with the man who had not been far from her thoughts ever since the heated kisses they had shared. Ever since he had owned her lips in the moonlit garden and hauled her into his lap the next day…
“I cannot help but to fear I have just allowed my canary to go off with a merciless tomcat,” she said, watching her friend go.
“He is not as merciless as he seems.” Tom was nearer to her than she had realized, his delicious scent taunting her senses. “Your friend will be safe with him.”
As the duke and Lottie disappeared into the crush, Hyacinth could not quite quell her misgiving. “Safe?”
“As safe as she wishes to be.” Tom offered her his arm next. “Come with me?”
This time, he asked.
She should tell him no, she thought. Deny him. Keep her distance. Flee.
No good could come of this ball for either herself or Lottie, she was sure of it. And yet, temptation lingered. Temptation she had been so long denied. Mayhap she was the canary as well, and Tom a lion about to have his dinner.
Her hand settled on his arm. “Where do you intend to take me?”
“You shall see.”
Chapter Six
Tom took Hyacinth to the quietest room in Brandon’s ridiculously thronged townhome. The study had been out of the question, lest Brandon attempt his own brand of entertaining within. The anterooms surrounding the ballroom were dens of vice, and after Nell, Tom had rather had enough of sharing his woman for a lifetime, thank you. Moreover, he did not relish spectacle. He had not the taste for licentiousness the duke possessed.
He was not a voluptuary. The worst sin he had committed had been to fall in love with a woman who was not free to love him in return. Doing so had only cost him nearly everything.
“Did you develop a feverish need to read in the midst of His Grace’s ball?” Hyacinth teased, breaking into Tom’s thoughts with her husky drawl that effectively banished anything but her.
Now that they were ensconced in the library, walls of tomes surrounding them, he had to admit, he had no further plans. He stopped them alongside a built-in bookcase that went from floor to ceiling. Her eyes sparkled beneath her silken mask. The urge to see her lovely face without the hindrance of her disguise could not be denied.
He disengaged from her and found the ties of her mask. “May I?”
“Yes.”
At her ready acquiescence, he plucked open the knot and whisked away the scrap of silk, tucking it into a pocket within his elaborate coat. He had dressed as a courtier from the last century, but he had eschewed the accompanying wig. Nothing worse than growing overheated and suffering an itchy scalp in the midst of a ball.
He was ever practical.
Ever the fool.
“There,” he said, drinking in the sight of her. “You make a lovely Amaryllis, my lady.”
What he truly meant was that his cockstand had been instant and unwavering from the moment he had first seen her garbed as a shepherdess. Her disguise had not