A Study In Seduction (37 page)

“Must I?” Jane made it sound as if her grandmother had asked her to dig a well. Sebastian grinned.

“Knowing Darius, he’s more likely to want to discuss insect species with you.” Talia gave Jane a smile. “I plan to visit you there as well. Are you looking forward to the trip?”

“Oh, yes.” Jane brightened. “I’ve always wanted to travel, you know, but we’ve only been as far as Brighton. This will be tremendously exciting. And Lord Rushton has agreed to take care of my fern while we’re away.”

The happy anticipation in her daughter’s voice made Lydia’s heart sing. She tightened her arm around Jane. Just a short time ago, she would not have imagined possible a future of hope and promise and freedom. A future
in which she could be Jane’s mother in every sense of the word, could give the girl everything Lydia never had.

Over the past two weeks, a lovely calm had settled over Lydia’s soul, secured by the knowledge of her and Alexander’s love and devotion. And somehow, too, by the knowledge that this life on which she was poised to embark was the life her own parents would wish for her.

A life in which she would never be alone again.

“We will likely return to London in a few years’ time.” Alexander put his hand on Lydia’s shoulder and squeezed, as if he sensed the emotions tumbling through her. The heat of his palm burned through her clothes to warm her skin. “Once things have settled.”

“Yes.” Rushton’s brow furrowed deeper. “This will not ignite another public scandal.”

“It certainly will not, my lord,” Mrs. Boyd replied. “Especially considering how hard Lord Northwood has worked to restore your reputation.”

The earl slanted her a glance.

Mrs. Boyd thumped her cane for emphasis. “It is an impressive man who takes the reins and does what he can to rectify a perilous situation. Lesser men than Lord Northwood might have hidden themselves away. You are to be commended for raising such a strong-minded son.”

The earl frowned.

“After all,” Mrs. Boyd continued, “what is more important than looking after one’s family? And when Lord and Lady Northwood leave London, I trust you will carry out your duties with the honor and dignity that befits a man of your stature and position who—”

“Mrs. Boyd.” Rushton interrupted the woman’s sustained lecture by slamming his large hand against the
mantel. “I thank you for your very strong views on the matter.”

Northwood coughed. “Mrs. Boyd, if you wish to remain in your house, I will ensure it is fully staffed. Perhaps you would also consider retaining a companion.”

“Perhaps.” Mrs. Boyd nodded again, looking to where Jane sat beside Lydia. “As for Jane, I expect you all to return on occasion so I might see her. And I might not be adverse to making the trip myself once or twice, provided suitable accommodations are arranged.”

“I do wish you’d come along,” Lydia said. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone.”

“For heaven’s sake, I will not be alone, Lydia. I have my work, my circle of friends. And quite frankly, it seems to me that Lord Rushton might do well to engage himself in meaningful Christian good works, for which I am pleased to offer my assistance.” She nodded at the earl. “Please take no offense, my lord.”

Lord Rushton looked as if he indeed took a great deal of offense, but Alexander spoke before his father could bluster.

“We plan to leave before the end of the month,” he said. “I expect to have things settled with the Society by then.”

“Excellent.” Rushton straightened both his spine and his lapels. “You’ve produced an unconventional idea, Northwood, but a good one. Well done.”

He nodded at Talia and Sebastian to indicate they should all take their leave. As the party prepared to depart, Lydia approached Lord Rushton. He looked at her with kindness and took her hand.

“My son once told me you are like no one he’s ever met,” he said. “I must say I’ve rarely heard a truer statement.”

“We’ve only room left for truth, my lord,” Lydia replied, covering his hand with her other one. “And the truth is that I’m honored to be part of your family. I love your son with all that I am.”

She glanced at Alexander, who was watching her with a smile so filled with love that her heart somersaulted, a riotous combination of joy and expectation spilling through her.

“The girl.” Rushton’s voice was gruff. “Jane. Take good care of her. I’ve become quite fond of her.”

He gave her hand a brief but tight squeeze, a gesture that told Lydia all she needed to know. She embraced Talia and her grandmother, then bent to gather Jane into her arms.

“I’m glad you married him.” Jane hugged her tight. “It’ll be an adventure, won’t it?”

“Of the very best kind.”

After everyone had left, Alexander moved forward, and then Lydia was in his arms, her face against his shirtfront, the warm strength of his body solid against hers.

Jane was right. Their future in a new country would be an adventure—complex, unpredictable, exhilarating. Like her relationship with Alexander. Like life.

“Are you happy?” he whispered against her hair.

“Completely.” She looked up at him. “Are you?”

“For the first time ever.”

His weight lay heavy and delicious on top of her. His fingers gripped her hips. The coarse hair of his legs abraded the soft skin of her inner thighs. His breath heated her shoulder. Her breasts pressed against his chest. His shaft throbbed inside her.

God.

Lydia clutched Alexander’s back, her face buried in the side of his neck. His scent filled her head. She shifted, a moan escaping her throat as he pushed deeper. A low curse rumbled from him. She tightened her legs around his thighs. Her hands slicked down his back, smoothing over taut muscle and skin.

She arched her hips upward. Sensations crashed through her, centering on the juncture of their union—the pulsing, the yielding flesh, the spiraling pressure. He tightened his hold on her hips, then pulled back and thrust forward. Again. Again. Oh, glorious loving…
again
.

She moaned. Panted. Writhed. Then felt his body begin to tense, his long muscles coiling and flexing against her hands, his hips pushing…

“Oh, wait…” She gasped, shifting to ease away from him, her hands moving to seek his erection. “Wait, I… let me…”

He stopped, still embedded inside her. He planted his hands on either side of her head and lifted himself to look down at her, his eyes simmering with heat and the need for release.

“Lydia.” His voice was hoarse, thick with desire. “We’re married.”

“Yes, but…” She stared up at him, her gaze sliding over the sweat-damp angles of his face. The underlying meaning of his statement pierced through layers upon layers of love and urgency, striking her right in the middle of the heart.

Her breath caught in her throat. “You mean…”

His lips brushed her damp forehead, stirring loose tendrils of hair. He encircled her wrists with his big hands,
pressing her arms to the sides of her head and immobilizing her. Then he thrust into her again, so powerfully that her whole body shuddered.

“Alexander…”

He responded with another push, another pull, an enthralling rhythm that had her blood burning and her need intensifying.

“Take me,” he hissed against her throat. “All of it.”

Her eyes stung with tears. She gripped his back, parted her legs wider, feeling that unmistakable surge toward bliss. And beneath the exquisite sensations, the pure carnal pleasure, anticipation sprang to life. Hope, love, and happiness swirled in her blood and merged into an outright joy that spread through her entire being.

“Take me,” he repeated, his voice barely more than a growl.

“Yes.” Lydia gasped, her hips bucking up against him as pleasure began to cascade through her body, shimmering and flowing. “Yes, I will… I want…”

“Now.” He thrust fully inside her as his body began to shake with release, his shaft pulsing.

“I feel it.” A cry ripped from Lydia’s throat. “Oh, yes, I… I feel it…”

She pushed herself closer to him, clutched him against her, pressed her cheek to his shoulder. Brilliant colors of purple and blue swept across her mind, reds and yellows surging through her blood as her husband spilled his seed into her body and made her his all over again.

Afterward, he pulled her into the crook of his arm and stroked a hand through her tangled hair. Lydia closed her eyes and breathed. She placed her hand on his chest,
feeling the rhythm of his heart, and for a moment she imagined that her own heart beat in perfect unison with his. A sense of wonder lit within her as she realized there was still so much about him she had yet to discover. Still so much they had to share and plan.

“You were right,” she murmured.

“Was I?” His voice was deep, lazy with satisfaction. “About what?”

“There’s a story written by Mrs. Mary Shelley.” Lydia shifted to look at him, propping her head on her hand. “It’s about an alchemist who drinks a potion that will grant him immortality. But he drinks only half the bottle and then wonders what is one-half of infinity?”

“A question for the ages,” Alexander mused.

Lydia gave him a light tap on the nose. “But the question,” she continued, “is meaningless. Infinity isn’t a number. It can’t be measured or multiplied or halved by some mathematical calculation. It’s a concept, an idea of something that goes on forever. Without end. Without boundaries.”

She pressed her lips to his cheek and stroked a hand down his chest.

“That’s what you were right about,” she said. “I’ve tried to quantify attraction and desire, to develop differential equations to explain the relationships between men and women. But it’s impossible. Life and
love
are immeasurable. They cannot be quantified or calculated. Life extends beyond death in ways that we will never comprehend. And love… love is as complex, as boundless, as infinity itself.”

“Mmm. You are brilliant indeed, Lady Northwood.” He slipped his hand up her back. “Brilliant and beautiful.
You’ll cause a sensation in St. Petersburg. Though I will never let you forget that you said I was right.”

Lydia smiled. “I’d expect no less of you.”

Alexander’s thumb moved to caress her neck, sliding back and forth in an echo of the way he had touched her that first time in his drawing room.

“And I love you infinitely,” he said, cupping her nape as he drew her closer. “Forever.”

As their lips met again, Lydia’s heart filled with a love powerful enough to banish all regrets. She knew then that her future had begun during that first midnight encounter. Warmth, light, and hope had bloomed within the shadows and flourished into this lovely place of here and now.

A place where infinity was as real and substantial as her husband’s touch. A place where, in moments of extraordinary beauty and good fortune, one plus one could equal… one.

S
he was carrying a head.

Sebastian Hall squinted and rubbed his gritty eyes. He blinked and looked again. Definitely a head. Cradled in one arm like a baby. A woman’s head with coiffed brown hair, though at this distance he couldn’t see her expression. He imagined it to be rather distressed.

He watched as the young woman crossed the empty ballroom to the stage, her steps both quick and measured, her posture straight in spite of her gruesome possession.

Sebastian pushed himself away from the piano. The room swayed a little as he rose, as if he were on the deck of a ship. A hum, seasick-yellow, droned in his ears. He dragged a hand over his face and scrubbed at his rough jaw as he crossed the room.

The woman didn’t appear to see him, her path set unswervingly on her destination. A basket dangled over her left arm.

Sebastian cleared his throat. The guttural noise echoed in the vast room like the growl of a bear.

“Miss.” His voice sounded coarse, rusted with disuse.

The woman startled, jerking back and losing her grip on the head, which fell to the floor with a thump and then rolled. A cry of surprise sounded, though in his befuddled state, Sebastian couldn’t tell from whom it had emerged. He looked down as the head rolled to a stop near his feet like the victim of an executioner’s ax.

A perfect waxen face stared up at him, wide, unblinking blue eyes, pink mouth, her hair beginning to escape a smooth chignon.

After a moment of processing this turn of events, Sebastian bent to retrieve the head. The woman reached it before he did, scooping it back into her arms and stepping away from him.

“Sir! If you would please—Oh.”

Sebastian looked up into a pair of rather extraordinary eyes—a combination of blue and violet flecked with gold. Something flickered in his memory, though he couldn’t grasp its source.

Where had he—

“Mr. Hall.” She tucked a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear, hugging the head closer to her chest. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

She frowned, glancing at his wrinkled clothes, his unshaven jaw and scuffed boots. For an uncomfortable moment, he wanted to squirm under that sharp assessment. He pulled a hand through his hair in a futile effort at tidiness, then experienced a sting of annoyance over his self-consciousness.

“Are you…” He shook his head to try to clear it. “I’m
afraid this room is closed in preparation for Lady Rossmore’s ball.”

She tilted her head. “You don’t remember me.”

Oh, hell.

Out of sheer habit, Sebastian attempted to muster a charming smile, though it had been so long since one had come naturally to him that his face felt like pulled clay.

“Well, far be it from me to forget a woman as enchanting as yourself. Your name has slipped my mind, though of course I remember… that is, I must be out of my wits to—”

“For pity’s sake.” She seemed to be trying hard not to roll her eyes. “My name is—was—Clara Whitmore. My brother and I both took piano lessons from you years ago when we stayed in Dorset.”