SoundsofLove Read online

  Lord Waldemere interrupted her musings with an unwelcome question. “I haven’t seen Sir Percival for some time. Is he well?”

  Her heart sank. She deeply regretted allowing her dying husband to arrange her marriage contract with the cousin who inherited the Sibley estate. “He’s completing a major translation. I expect he’ll visit during the holidays.” Percival Hedges was a serious scholar and a don at Oxford. Cathryn was quite certain he was ill-prepared for a wife and the responsibilities of being a peer. In the two times they had seen one another since her husband’s death, he’d not attempted to embrace her, and Cathryn suspected he was a cold fish. The thought made her shudder.

  “Well, he would probably advise you to have a chaperone for your visit with Ahlquist.”

  She nodded agreement. It was imperative that she not be alone with the rakish Lord Ahlquist. He was a dreadfully potent man, and she suffered almost constantly with strong carnal urges. Her body yearned for a man’s touch, even as her mind relished the unexpected freedom of widowhood. His smile alone would melt her virtuous resolve, of that she had little doubt.

  Anyone who read the papers knew of the man’s reputation with women, and now Waldemere’s warnings rang in her ears.

  The heavy oak door slammed behind Waldemere, and Julian Ahlquist bristled with discontent. That had not gone well. Lady Sibley had far exceeded her bounds and made a fool of him in front of his peers, goading him to churlish behavior with her insistence to pursue Mrs. Burns’ inane request.

  And tomorrow at eleven-thirty was when he planned to visit Lilith. That would cut short his time with the luscious blonde, as she had rehearsal at one in the theater near her flat. Another reason to dislike the impertinent Lady Sibley. He glanced at the clock on the wall, wondering how best to correct her disrespectful attitude. Clearly, someone needed to put her in her place, and he suspected he was the only man in the society up to the task. She seemed determined to attend meetings and followed even the driest discussions without a hint of boredom. Normally he welcomed her comely face in the sea of gray whiskers, but he would not have a repeat of today’s performance. Now that she was out of mourning he could deny her attendance, but she was popular with some influential members. Elections were only two months away and losing would be an insufferable blow. He cursed Melina Burns for threatening his academic achievements with public quibbles. What trickery was the woman up to this time?

  He had two hours before his fencing practice. Perhaps Lilith could soothe his bruised ego. A corner of his mouth turned up as he thought of the bauble he had for his pretty courtesan and how grateful she would be to him. She’d be on her knees before he shed his outer garments, and she would keep his cock hard for an hour with her skills. That was a beautiful woman’s proper place—on her knees or on her back.

  Lady Sibley’s full, rosy lips came to mind and he wondered if she serviced men with her mouth. His cock twitched at the thought, and he stuffed Melina’s irksome letter in his pocket as he headed for the door. Perhaps he should make Sibley pay by seducing her. She was out of mourning, and he had barely known her husband, so there was no honor at stake. A vigorous woman like her must be lusting for a man by now—he would be doing her a favor.

  Perhaps he would postpone tomorrow’s visit to Lilith and lift Sibley’s skirts instead. He’d caught a whiff of lemon when he retrieved his letter—that would be a welcome change from Lilith’s heavy floral perfume.

  He was stiff as a poker by the time he entered his plush carriage and called out Lilith’s direction to his driver. He stared out the window at the bustling sidewalks of the city, but his mind was on his new quarry. Sibley had dark-brown hair that peeked out from under her drab winter hat. It had been years since he’d had a brunette. Even draped in her thick cloak, he could see she had ample breasts, and his fingers itched to explore them. He rubbed his hands together to warm them as he considered how to approach her.

  She would want an apology, and he would offer one, along with a generous gift. That should lower her defenses. Then he would find a way to brush against her and stroke the side of one of her breasts. If she didn’t recoil, he would kiss her. Once an experienced woman welcomed his tongue inside her mouth, with a modicum of privacy, he could have his cock buried in her within ten minutes.

  Sibley had spirit, he had to grant her that.

  Julian liked spirited women—in bed.

  Chapter Two

  Cathryn paced the perimeter of her drawing room at 11:10 the next morning, trying not to be irritated by her sister-in-law’s prattling.

  Violet adjusted her new plum-colored bonnet before the mirror. “One evening gown, Cat. That’s all. We can share it. I’ve had this fitting scheduled for two months.”

  A sigh of resignation escaped. “I’ll ask Mrs. Lewin to cut back on groceries for the next month.”

  “You’ve paid the last of Geoffrey’s medical expenses?”

  “There’s only the apothecary, although I’m tempted not to pay the last installment. He preyed on us, Vi, giving us the premium paregoric when the cheaper worked as well.” Her blood began to pound each time she thought of how others had taken advantage of her household during their grief. “I’ve not heard from the Sibley steward this month, and we can’t live off your portion.”

  “Perhaps if you publish your older stories again? They did very well in the Oxfordshire presses.”

  A pang of longing for her past success shot through Cathryn. Before her beloved Geoffrey took ill, they had forged a grand life together. He with his farming and academic works, she with her women’s stories, attending to the needy in their lovely rural community, and attempting her own scholarly translations.

  “I’ll consider it, but I’m certain the pay will be pitiful. Until we have an adequate source of income, we have to make do with less.” She ran her hands down her fine wool dress. “Good quality, but not high fashion. These new gowns should last five years, and three a season is more than enough.” The fiery redhead made a face that shouted her disagreement, and Cathryn plowed on. “An evening gown is an unnecessary extravagance when neither of us has the funds to go to balls, or even the opera.”

  “What if Percival appears and wants to whisk you out on the town?”

  It was Cathryn’s turn to grimace. “That hardly seems likely, does it?”

  Violet’s curls bobbed as she drew on her white gloves. “Well, I’ll never meet a man sequestered in our parlor or volunteering at the poorhouse. I’m nearly twenty-six and have no prospects. I can’t wait another year, and I need you by my side when I venture forth.”

  She was right on all counts. Cathryn hated denying the lovely widow when she might have a brilliant future. “We’ll need two gowns to help you find a new husband. If we use our old accessories and share a carriage with other ladies, we could manage the opera.”

  Green eyes sparkled with infectious good humor. “Thank you, Cat. I’ll make an appointment for your fitting.” She hefted an overlarge reticule that held a myriad of feminine necessities. “I’m sorry I’ll miss the earl. Pity he didn’t come at eleven.”

  The door closed behind Violet and Cathryn brooded as she continued pacing. She’d been left without a proper chaperone for her call with Lord Ahlquist. She would have to ask Lewin to stand by the door.

  As if on cue, her butler arrived at the door and announced the earl, handing Cathryn an ivory calling card embossed with gold that read Julian Ahlquist, Earl of Trenchford. Clutching the card, she glanced in the looking glass and tucked a loose strand of hair behind an ear. She had debated wearing a lace cap but decided against it. Now she wished she could shroud herself against this aggressive man. Of course, even this modest rust-colored gown did not truly hide her assets, which were made appallingly prominent by the new corset Violet pressed her to wear this morning. Vi had also dropped off a tin of rouge in Cat’s dressing room after she heard Ahlquist was coming, saying, “It can’t hurt to flirt a little.”

  The rouge did help. Cathryn felt like an app
arition after five years of near seclusion.

  Ahlquist appeared in the doorway, carrying an enormous bundle of what appeared to be books. He was impeccably dressed in a deep-brown worsted wool jacket and long tan trousers suitable for the cold weather. Without his greatcoat, he looked much less intimidating, and Cathryn was drawn to him in spite of her reservations. She forgot about Lewin until she heard the door click shut behind him.

  “Lady Sibley, my apologies for arriving a trifle early. I have another engagement scheduled for later this morning.”

  Cathryn glanced at the mantel clock and saw it was eleven-twenty. Fair enough. “That’s quite all right.” She watched him assess her drawing room, with the high quality but sparse furnishings surrounded by a jungle of green plants. Something in his approving gaze made her choose to be contrite. “It was peevish of me not to accept your original time. I apologize.” She tucked his card into her dress pocket before extending her hand.

  “It is I who must apologize, my lady.” He held her hand lightly and bowed low over it. His unbound hair fell across her glove and tickled her exposed wrist. Cathryn withdrew before he had a chance to kiss her hand, and he continued, “My behavior was reprehensible yesterday. I’m not certain what came over me to react so…”

  “Boorishly?” Her contrition hadn’t lasted long, but the man did challenge her senses.

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it quite so strongly, but I will give you discourteously.”

  Cathryn considered this and knew it must be a great concession on his part. “Discourteously then…agreed. And I was rather…dominant.”

  “Overbearing?”

  “I did overstep my bounds, I will grant you that.”

  “Agreed.”

  Cathryn led him to the settee in front of the fire. “I hope we can put that behind us and start anew today.”

  She had intended to sit in the side chair, but he took her elbow and urged her to join him on the couch. He held up the bundle of books and said, “I thought we could begin by looking up a few words in Dr. Johnson’s latest edition.”

  Cathryn’s eyes widened. “You’ve brought a copy with you?” All thoughts of resisting him flew up the chimney as her curiosity was piqued.

  “Consider it a gift of reconciliation.” He bowed his head as he untied the string holding the precious goods.

  “I couldn’t possibly accept such an extravagant gift.” The new editions ran over 100 guineas, the cost of ten day gowns.

  “I had two copies in my library.” He unwrapped the blue broadcloth and quickly set aside the top book, placing it out of Cathryn’s sight as he handed her the tome they had been discussing.

  She settled the heavy dictionary on her lap and ran her hands across the embossed cover. Johnson’s Dictionary, Improved by Todd. A lump formed in her throat and her corset shrunk a size. This was too much, but she wanted it very badly. It had been years since she’d purchased a book, relying on her local lending library instead.

  “I see I’ve left you speechless,” he said as he reached across her to open the book. “I assure you, that was not my intent.” His upper arm grazed the side of her breast as he lifted the cover and about half the pages.

  She drew back at the intimate contact, but the weight of the dictionary grounded her. Before she could complain, his arm was gone. He did not apologize, and she thought that perhaps she had misconstrued his actions. But he bent over her as he leafed through the pages to the one titled “MUN”, and his arm again brushed across the front of her dress. She shifted away from him, but the arm of the settee and the tome on her lap pinned her in.

  He spoke before she had a chance to protest. “I thought we could begin with the place Mrs. Burns’ word would occupy in a dictionary.” His voice was low, and while part of Cathryn wanted to repel him, she was drawn to lean forward and examine the page. His long hair was nearly touching hers and his warm breath clung to her cheek as he spoke, his masculine scent filling her senses. She closed her eyes for an instant as the assault on her sensibilities continued, and he moved closer until his shoulder covered hers.

  He meant to seduce her, she realized with a start. And this dictionary was the means of his seduction, allowing him intimate contact in a manner few gifts would have done. She needed to be on guard against him, but she was honest enough with herself to know she would probably not resist if he tried to kiss her.

  What could be the harm in an innocent kiss from a handsome gentleman? One that she could cherish for years to come.

  There is nothing innocent about Lord Ahlquist.

  “Murmur,” he read in his low voice. She recognized his tone as similar to the one Geoffrey had used each week when he asked to come to her bed.

  “My lord,” she began in feeble protest as she shifted her weight slightly, moving an inch away from him.

  “To grumble,” he said as he kept his finger on the entry, ignoring her discomfort. “To mutter, complaint, grumbling.” He murmured the last, and she had to grant him a nervous smile as he looked up at her.

  “You’re very good, my lord.”

  He leaned closer as if he meant to kiss her, saying, “Yes, I am, my lady.”

  She turned her face away from him. “I meant your articulation, my lord. You could have a place on the stage.”

  He reached his hand up and touched her chin lightly. “So I’ve been told.” His eyes sought hers as he leaned in to brush his lips against hers. Soft and gentle, and seemingly so innocent, if not for the bearer of the cherished kiss. Still, it was he who broke away without deepening the embrace.

  He straightened in his seat as the noise of a tea tray could be heard outside the door. “However, that is not how I wish to spend my time.”

  She would not have stopped him if he had taken further liberties, and was mildly annoyed to hear Molly enter the room. The silver tray soon rested on the table in front of the settee. Cathryn glanced at her maid, amused to see the girl wide-eyed at the sight of the handsome earl. “Thank you, Molly. I’ll serve. That will be all.”

  “Please, Lady Sibley, allow me.” Ahlquist wore a satisfied smile as he reached for the teapot. “You can demonstrate your articulation while I pour.” He nodded at the massive dictionary, and his eyes rested overlong on her breasts before he lifted the pot.

  Taken aback by his shameless attitude, Cathryn glanced automatically at the page and the word murmur caught her eye. He had just read that, so she moved on to the next entry. “Murmuration,” she said softly, partly in imitation of his reading, and partly because her throat was thick with desire. “A low sound, the act of murmuring.”

  “That entry was not in the original Johnson,” he said as he set down the teapot. “But hearing you read it such, I believe it is my favorite new word. Murmuration.” He flashed a seductive smile before he asked, “How do you take your tea?”

  “It’s a new word to me as well, my lord.” His smile sent a wave of pleasant sensations coursing through her. Dear heavens, she could stare at him all day and never tire of the sight. He waved the sugar spoon over the bowl to remind her of his question. “Oh, yes, two spoons, please, and as much milk as the cup will hold.”

  He gave her a strange look as he complied and then fixed his own cup in a similar fashion. “I also prefer a bit of tea with my cream. Next time, I will leave more room.”

  She felt a rush of joy at his words. Next time. He planned to call again.

  “Please continue reading.” He watched intently as she found her place.

  “Murmurer. A grumbler, a repiner.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure I like that definition. Murmur is more…neutral to me than grumbling.”

  “I agree.” He glanced at the tea and scones. “Just one more entry.”

  “Murrain, a plague amongst cattle.” She wrinkled her nose as she closed the book. He reached out to lift it off her lap and this time he brushed her chest with the back of his hand.

  “My lord!” She recoiled from his brazen touch, even as it set her afire.

&nbs
p; “A thousand pardons, Lady Sibley.” She watched him rise unhurriedly, set the book on an end table and return to sit beside her. He stared at her chest for a moment before reaching for her teacup. “You are somewhat difficult to disregard.”

  She took her cup and nodded with all the primness she could muster in her agitated state. Her face burned at his blatant remark, but he did have a point—her corset pushed her bosom almost absurdly high. And she did want another kiss. “Nonetheless, Lord Ahlquist, you have a most forward manner.”

  “You do seem to provoke me to boldness.” He glanced at the scones, and she leaned forward to draw the plate closer.

  “Please, help yourself.”

  “Thank you, I will.” He removed his gloves to reveal muscular hands as he picked up a scone. It had been ages since she’d seen a man’s hands, and the sight captured her attention. Geoffrey’s hands had been rather pudgy and somewhat clumsy, but Ahlquist’s lean fingers moved gracefully and promised expertise. “I’ll not be eating for some time.” He glanced at the clock as he devoured the sweet bread, and she remembered his appointment and the other book.

  “Did you have something else for me, my lord?”

  His color seemed to deepen as he reached behind him. “I thought you might enjoy some…torrid reading.” He placed the book down between them and picked up his cup.

  “Torrid?” Cathryn quickly set her cup down. A wave of anticipation washed over her. What could he have brought? The leather cover was bare, and she gasped when she opened it and saw the title. “Fanny Hill?” She rose from her seat, alternating between mortified and intrigued.

  He’d brought her an erotic novel—how terribly improper.