had shown him to be a man of seduction. He was a man who wooed, who lured. Not a man who took or demanded.
Gratitude washed over her, along with a renewed throb of desire.
Belatedly, she realized the butler had discreetly left, giving her and Tom privacy. She wondered if this home belonged to Tom, and whether or not he kept it expressly for such a purpose.
The thought chased the heat sliding through her veins until she dismissed it. She reminded herself that this was a fortnight of pleasure between them. Nothing more. Nothing permanent. At the end of their time together, he would not have any claims upon her and nor would she on him. They would simply part ways.
She could do this. Tom had already proven to her that lovemaking could be pleasurable. His caresses and kisses, his tender touches, had introduced her to a delirium of bliss she had never believed possible. The memory of Southwick’s merciless grip and sometimes painful intrusions had been replaced by tenderness. Why not allow herself more?
You deserve passion and desire, Lottie had told her.
Watching Tom play, imagining those elegant hands of his upon her instead of the musical instrument, Hyacinth was inclined to agree. Before her was proof of the manner of man Tom was. Debonair, romantic, sensitive, seductive, charming.
Wonderful.
The song reached a poignant crescendo, and it was as if Tom poured himself into the music. She had never heard another play with such heart-rending talent for bringing a song to life. Somehow, she was not at all surprised to find him just as talented on the piano and as capable of piercing her shell as he was in all other ways.
When the last note lingered in the air, she moved forward, into the room, drawn to him in the manner of a bee to a flower. She could not stay away.
“That was lovely,” she told him.
Southwick had never cared for music. He had considered enjoyment of the arts a frivolous, unworthy pursuit. It was one of the reasons Hyacinth had hired musicians to perform most evenings since her arrival in Town. Music spoke to her soul. The one Southwick had done his utmost to crush.
Tom rose from the piano bench, a slow smile of welcome curving his lips. “Hyacinth. You have come.”
“You imagined I would not?” It was difficult to believe a man of his magnetism would have doubted his own allure.
How could she resist him? Mayhap more to the point, why would she want to?
His smile deepened, his eyes glittering in the low light as a new sense of intimacy filled the air. “I hoped you would. But I am not the sort of gentleman who takes a lady for granted.”
A sudden wave of shyness hit her. No amount of parties, flirting, or other entertainments could have prepared her for this.
She was alone.
With Lord Sidmouth.
Tom.
Not that she had not been before, but the intent tonight was different. She had promised to spend the night with him.
“You are a rare sort of gentleman,” she said, opting for a light tone yet unable to keep an edge from her voice.
He stopped before her and sketched a perfect bow that had her heart hammering anew. His dark eyes seemed to burn into her as he rose to his full height and took her hand, raising it to his lips for a lingering kiss.
“I cannot promise to be a gentleman at all this evening.”
His words—the stark, carnal promise radiating in his rich voice—nearly made her knees go weak.
Hyacinth wished she was not wearing gloves. Such foolish formality, it seemed, when they were going to be as close as a man and woman could be. But she had never done something like this before, and she little knew how to proceed. What was the proper protocol?
Now that she was about to embark upon this latest journey in her new life, she knew a piercing pang of trepidation, accompanying the excitement and desire.
“I do not think I wish for you to be a gentleman,” she admitted.
Indeed, she wanted more of the wildness he had shown her in the Duke of Brandon’s library.
“Do you play, Hyacinth?” he asked, still holding her hand in his as if he had no wish to relinquish it.
Which was fine by Hyacinth. She found herself similarly affected. She, too, was loath to sever the connection between them. She wanted to stay here, near him, his decadent scent teasing her senses, the impact of his masculine beauty manifesting itself as a hitch in