more, although their mutual attraction was as desperate as it was obvious.
“I have already told you I will not be your mistress,” she said at last, her blue gaze boring into him.
“Be my lover, then. I have no wish for you to live upon my whims or be at my beck and call if that is your concern.”
“I have no desire to be beneath anyone’s thumb again,” Hyacinth said. “I value my independence and my freedom far too much. A mistress, like a wife, must answer to a man as I once answered to my husband.”
What must he have done to her?
“If I could, I would thrash him on your behalf,” he gritted.
How a man could ill-treat his wife was beyond Tom. He could not fathom anything other than worshiping a woman, be she lover or wife or mistress.
Hyacinth gave him a small smile. “In the end, he found his fate, and I was given my freedom. Which is why, you can understand, I have no wish to jeopardize it.”
“Believe me, the last thing I wish to do is constrain you.” He settled his tea and saucer upon the table, no longer needing the distraction of it in his hands. This—Hyacinth—was serious business. “All I want is you in my bed, uninterrupted.”
And so much more.
So very much more—all of it pertaining to pleasures of the flesh.
Yes, a lover was just what he needed. She was what he needed. All he required was one word from her pretty, pink lips.
“Yes,” she said, her acquiescence hushed.
Almost impossible to hear.
But Tom heard it.
Relief seized him, along with desire. Brutally strong. For a heartbeat, he struggled to find his composure past the rushing in his ears.
“Yes?” he asked at length, just to make certain he had not imagined that lone, wondrous word.
“Yes,” she told him, her voice louder now. Stronger.
There was only one question which mattered after that. “When?”
Chapter Eight
Hyacinth’s heart thrummed with anticipation as her carriage came to a halt outside the address Tom had sent to her. She took a moment to compose herself before the door opened and she was handed down.
She had arrived for an assignation.
Lottie had been thrilled when she had told her she would be meeting Tom for a private dinner. She had not dared to tell her friend the truth of the bargain she had struck with Tom. Part of her was not certain she would still carry it out to the end.
Hyacinth was still uncertain what mad impulse had caused her to agree to this—a fortnight of being Tom’s lover. Her stomach knotted, and heat blossomed between her thighs, reminding her of her motivation. Need. Want. Desire.
And she was free now, to pursue whatever and whomever she wished. Sometimes, it remained difficult for Hyacinth to believe the shackles of her marriage had been removed. Part of her expected Southwick to reappear, drunken and bitter, blaming her for his every failure. Demanding his conjugal rights…
No. Biting her lip, she ruthlessly banished that thought. She would not think of Southwick. Not tonight.
She was a new woman, she reminded herself.
She was the Hyacinth who threw wild parties and drank too much champagne. She was the Hyacinth who made love in a library and kissed her neighbor in a moonlit garden and who could take a lover because doing so pleased her.
Do something for yourself, Lottie had urged her when Hyacinth had shared her misgivings and her second thoughts earlier that day. And her friend was right. She owed it to herself, to the girl she had once been and to the woman she had become, to pursue something purely for herself. Purely because it was what she wanted.
Tom.
The carriage door opened, and the time had come. Hyacinth exited the conveyance, taking care to make certain her veil was in place and her skirts were smoothed, before making her way to the front door. A smartly dressed butler guided her to a music room, where Lord Sidmouth awaited her. Hyacinth shook off a bout of nerves as she approached to a beautiful melody on the piano.
Tom’s broad back was to her as she neared the threshold, and Hyacinth took a moment to bask in the sight of him, his golden hair, long fingers moving effortlessly over the keys. She was at once relieved and mesmerized. Somehow, she had expected him to await her in the bedchamber. But now, she realized how foolish she had been to imagine Tom would act in a manner so crass. Their every interaction thus far