A Study In Seduction (27 page)

“Ah, Christ…” Alexander’s eyes moved with lust over
her naked breasts, the curves of her hips. He started to stand and reach for her, but Lydia placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back.

“Wait,” she whispered, her voice throaty with promise.

Alexander winced, the planes of his face glistening with sweat and flickering shadows. “Can’t wait much longer.”

Lydia turned as his hands gripped her hips and drew her toward him. She reached behind her to find him, then spread her legs apart and began to ease herself down. Lydia closed her eyes as her inner muscles clenched around his thick, delicious length.

“Stop.”

His command stopped her movements. “What?”

“Turn around. I want to see you.”

Lydia’s teeth sank into her lower lip, her heartbeat escalating to thunder inside her head. For an instant, she didn’t know if she could do it, didn’t know if she could face him, look into his compelling dark eyes.

Alexander’s fingers tightened on her waist as he eased her away from him. Lydia turned, grateful for the veil of loose, tangled hair falling over her face and shoulders. She settled her hands on Alexander’s upper arms, straddling his thighs again.

“Lift them,” he said.

With a shiver, she cupped her hands beneath her breasts and lifted them to him. He captured one hard peak between his lips, tugging lightly, his tongue swirling over her flushed skin. Lydia shook with arousal as he lifted his hand to cup her other breast. The heat of his breath against her nipple, the glide of his long fingers into the moist crevice below the heavy globes, rained shivers through her body.

She poised herself above him, then sank down in one movement, a cry ripping from her chest as he filled her with inexorable, exquisite pressure. His thighs tightened beneath her bottom, his hands sliding over the curve of her waist.

“Do it.” An edge of desperation cut through his deep voice.

Lydia lifted her hips and brought them down again, pleasure jolting through her. She rose again, straining to find a rhythm, a cadence that would build slow and steady to rapture. Alexander groaned as she engulfed him again and again, her movements increasingly fraught with urgency.

Gripping her hips, Alexander muttered another oath and thrust upward as she sank down, creating an explosive friction that made Lydia’s blood throb. She grasped his sweat-slick shoulders and tried to temper the riot of sensations coursing through her. “I’m going to—”

“Now.”

She cried out, awash in the sensations of his hands on her breasts, his body in hers. Pleasure erupted through her, causing her to tremble, even as she became aware that Alexander was nearing his own climax. She tensed, absorbing the ebbing cascade of bliss as she lifted away from him. She grasped his shaft as his rough shout struck the fire-heated air.

A renewed flow of sensation shivered through her as she watched him ride out his own pleasure. She sat back on his thighs as his body began to slacken. She stared at him, mesmerized by how his damp skin shone in the flickering light, the intense repletion in his dark eyes.

Her husband-to-be.

A violent upwelling of love filled her chest—love and utter wonderment that this man had broken through her well-constructed shell. That she had allowed him in, let him fill every inch of her heart.

He lifted a hand to brush the tangles of hair away from her face. His gaze searched hers, his hand sliding down to cup her cheek. Lydia leaned into his touch. She closed her eyes and anticipated spending a lifetime with this beautiful, complex man who had the power to make her heart soar and her body sing.

A faint but palpable tendril of hope spiraled through her.

Was it possible? Could she have a blissful married life with Alexander? Could she be a good wife to him and still give Jane all she wanted? Could she continue her work without living in constant fear?

Could she be truly happy?

“Is it too late to agree to your other proposition?” She opened her eyes to find him still watching her. Her heart beat with nervous anticipation. She took a breath. “I’ll give a lecture for the exhibition. I’ll do it for you.”

Something dark flickered across his expression, a resurgence of his previous uncertainty. “I want you to do it for you.”

“All right.” She curled her hands around his in promise. “Perhaps I’ll even divulge my thoughts about love and differential equations, though at the risk of shocking my esteemed colleagues.”

“Your colleagues could stand a shock or two.”

Lydia smiled and pressed her lips against his. “Do I get my locket back now or after the lecture?”

“I don’t have it anymore.”

“Where is it?”

“I gave it to Jane.”

“What?” Lydia yanked her hands from his, shock freezing her blood. “When?”

“The day I went to speak to your grandmother.” Alexander frowned. “What’s the matter? You said it was to be hers.”

“One day, yes! Not now, not until…”

Her breath stopped. Anxiety cut into her. She pushed away from Alexander and fumbled for her clothes. Through her fear came a memory of Jane’s strange, distant behavior the night Lydia had told her about the potential marriage.

“Lydia?” He started toward her, concern etched on his forehead.

You’ll be glad to get rid of me…

She froze in the movement of fastening her corset. “Oh, God, Alexander. What have you done?”

L
ydia hurried into the foyer of her grandmother’s town house. Her fear rustled harder, ominous, about to take wing. “Mrs. Driscoll!”

The housekeeper hurried from the kitchen. “Yes, miss?”

“Is Jane at home?”

“Yes, she and your grandmother just returned from Lady Montague’s tea. They’re in the schoolroom, I believe.”

Apprehension pounding in her blood, Lydia went into her father’s study. The copper box sat in its customary place beside the window, the tarnished metal glowing in a thin shaft of sunlight. She grabbed the box and shook it. Her heart plummeted when no thud of the envelope came from inside. She twisted the lock, but it was fixed shut.

Without thinking, she lifted the box above her head and slammed it hard against the edge of the windowsill.

From the foyer, Mrs. Driscoll let out a startled cry.
Lydia fumbled with the lock, then angled it against the sill and brought it down again and again, so hard that dents appeared on the wood.

The lock broke. Lydia pushed the lid open. Though she already knew the contents were gone, a moan escaped her at the sight of the empty velvet interior. She dropped the box to the floor.

“Lydia!”

Her grandmother’s voice was sharp, heavy like an ax. Lydia began to shake. She forced her head up, watching her grandmother’s eyes sweep across the room, comprehending the implications of Lydia’s distress, the broken lock, the empty copper box.

Then… silence. A dry, parched cavern desperate to be filled.

“She… he gave her the locket… I’d hidden the key inside it months ago…”

The words flared and died in Lydia’s throat. She covered her face with trembling hands.

“Did… Has she said anything to you?” she asked her grandmother.

“No.” Mrs. Boyd glanced at the housekeeper, who hovered with anxious confusion in the background. “You may return to your duties, Mrs. Driscoll.”

“Yes, madam.” Mrs. Driscoll hurried from the room, closing the door behind her.

Lydia stared at the box as her grandmother’s shadow moved across it. “Where is she?”

“Upstairs.” Mrs. Boyd nudged open the box with the end of her cane. “Where is the paper?”

“She… she must have it.”

“If she’s told no one, we might still be able to rectify
this.” Mrs. Boyd nodded to the door. “Go speak to her, Lydia.”

“If Alexander comes here, keep him away.”

Lydia picked up the broken box and climbed the stairs with a sick feeling of dread. The door to the schoolroom stood half-open, and she knocked before pushing it the rest of the way. Jane stood at the window with one hand flat against the glass.

“Jane.”

The girl turned, her gaze going to the empty box. Lydia moved into the room, her hands tightening so hard on the box the copper edges cut into her palms.

“How… how was Lady Montague’s tea?” Lydia’s voice shook.

“Proper, of course.” Jane lifted her chin and faced the window again. Her slender shoulders tensed. “Delicious. She offered meringues, macaroons. A
pain d’épices
, she called it. From Rheims. It had orange-flower water and aniseed.”

“It sounds quite lovely.”

“Everything about Lady Montague is lovely.”

“True.” Lydia approached Jane cautiously, then stopped in the middle of the room. “Jane.”

The girl whirled around so fast that her hair fanned around her shoulders. Her mouth compressed, her green eyes hardening. “I hate you, Lydia. I
hate
you.”

“No.” Terror seized Lydia’s chest. Her hands started to tremble, and she dropped the box onto a table. “Please, let me explain.”

“You lied to me! All this time, you’ve lied!”

“I know, but—”

“Why?” Jane pushed a stack of papers off the desk and
grabbed the one that had been locked in the copper box for so many years. “You kept this hidden from me when I had every right to know the truth!”

“No one knew the truth, Jane. No one except Papa and Grandmama.” Tears stung Lydia’s eyes as she reached for the girl, but Jane evaded her grasp and went to the door.

“Why not me, then?” she snapped.

“You would have been taken away from us,” Lydia said. She swiped at her eyes, hating the way Jane looked at her with such animosity. And yet she couldn’t blame her father or grandmother either, for they had only done what they thought was best. They had done all they could to ensure Jane would stay with them. “We couldn’t tell you, didn’t want you to—”

“You could have,” Jane retorted. “You didn’t want to because you knew I’d make things horrible for you. Lord Northwood would never marry you if he knew! But if you kept it a secret from me, you’d have everything you wanted and I’d be left with nothing.”

Lydia’s heart constricted. “Oh, Jane. You’d never have nothing—you know that. I didn’t keep this from Northwood because I wanted him to marry me. I didn’t tell him because
no one
could know.”

“Why? Why did you have to keep it such a secret?”

“It… it was too dangerous.” Lydia stared at Jane. Flashes of memory appeared—a sculptured face with eyes as cold as glass, the glimpse of a slender, blond man from across the street, the eerie feeling of being watched.

The terror returned, scratching like claws up Lydia’s throat. “Jane, if anything—”

“Dangerous for you, you mean,” Jane retorted. “I know why you haven’t told anyone, Lydia, and it’s got nothing
to do with me. It’s because your life would be ruined if anyone knew the truth!”

She spun and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Lydia choked out a cry, her tears flooding over in waves as she sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands.

In that instant, Lydia knew she had to choose between Alexander and Jane. And in the end, there could be no choice at all.

T
he sine of two theta equals two times the sine of theta
… The thought dissolved like salt in boiling water.

Lydia grasped the driver’s hand as she descended the carriage to the bustling street. As she walked toward the lecture hall, she attempted to focus on the identity again, but her effort was halfhearted at best. Her mind was too knotted to think about sines or cosines or polynomials or square roots.

“I received your letter.”

Lydia spun at the sound of the low, male voice. Alexander stood a short distance away, his expression grave, his eyes simmering with suppressed anger.

Lydia swallowed hard and clutched her satchel tighter. She knew she’d been a coward by sending him a letter, but having to tell him in person—

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“The banns were posted last week,” Alexander snapped. “I will not withstand another broken engagement.”

“You don’t want to marry me, Alexander,” Lydia said, her throat nearly closing over the words. “Believe me when I say a broken engagement is a far better course for you than marriage to me.”

He stepped forward to grip her arm, his dark eyes flashing. “Why?” he hissed, lowering his head closer to her. “Why have you refused to see me for the past three days? What the bloody hell is going on? If you don’t—”

“You all right, miss?” Two men paused in passing, glancing from Lydia to Alexander.

With a muttered curse, Alexander relaxed his grasp and stepped away from her. Lydia gave the men a brief nod, then hurried toward the Greco-Roman façade of the lecture hall. Her chest tightened when Alexander fell into step beside her.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“This is where they’re holding the mathematics symposium.”

“I’ll go with you.” He took her satchel from her. “And afterward we will continue this discussion.”

“Alexander, I—” Her heart sank at the mutinous look on his face, and she knew she’d have no immediate chance of escaping him.

They went into the auditorium, which resounded with the rumble of male voices, the rustle of papers, and the scrape of chairs. Lydia searched the crowd until she found Dr. Sigley standing amid a group of men. He gave her a wave and pushed his way toward her.

“Miss Kellaway, you’ve arrived.” Dr. Sigley stopped before her and took her gloved hand. “And, Lord Northwood, a pleasure to see you again.”