That brought the merest flicker of a smile to his face, then he nodded, and strode off down the hall.
He’d spoken to her. Noticed her. Hyacinth ascended the stairs feeling a bit as if she was walking on air.
CHAPTER 7
Hyacinth, with the help of a lady’s maid shared by each of the female guests, was dressed and prepared for the evening's activities an hour before they were expected to gather in the dining room.
Emma had never come up to speak to her, but she assumed she was merely busy with preparations of her own.
Hyacinth had chosen one of the books she’d brought with her and settled before the fire for a bit, trying to lose herself in the words on the page. But the lines of text seemed to blend together, or she read the same lines over and over. Her mind would not allow her to focus because she could not escape the thought that Tristan was here, in this house, just a few rooms away from her.
The anticipation of when she’d see him again was like a low hum in her body that she couldn’t dispel. She quite liked the thought of him being so near.
And, now, she was looking forward to whatever interactions they might have over the fortnight. She no longer worried that he wouldn't notice her. She didn't even give much thought to Lady Felicia.
Something in the way he'd spoken to her, just those couple of words, made her heart flutter.
She wondered where his laboratory might be. Was it upstairs, perhaps a part of his private rooms? It would need to be well lit, tidy, a place where he could focus and store his finds.
He had offered to show it to her, and, of course, she was impatient for that. Desperately curious, in fact.
Before she could overthink it, she laid her book aside and stood. She glanced at her evening gloves, then looked at herself in the cheval mirror in the corner of the room. Despite being overdressed for prowling through the house, her curiosity was too ravenous to keep her inside her room.
She made her way down the stairs and explored the rooms off the main hallway, hoping to find the library. A family like the Brookes would have an extraordinary one, filled with volumes on science. Astronomy. Chemistry. Paleontology, of course. And Emma favored the study of biology, particularly of animals.
“May I assist you, Miss Bridewell?” a voice called.
Hyacinth looked over her shoulder to find Mrs. Paxton approaching with a kind smile.
“I was looking for the library. Would it be all right if I had a look?”
Mrs. Paxton nodded. “Of course, miss. It’s just there, last door on your right at the end of the hall.”
“Thank you. Do you know if Miss Brooke has come down yet?”Or Sir Tristan Brooke, she wanted to add.
“I believe she’s still preparing up in her rooms. Would you like me to ask her to visit you in the library?”
“No, that’s not necessary. I’ll see her in the drawing room soon enough.”
Hyacinth took her leave and approached the far end of the hall, noticing that the library door was half open. She couldsmell that distinctive scent of aged paper, ink, and book leather. But as she pushed the panel open, a sound caught her attention.
The sound of water dribbling in a steady stream.
It emerged from a door straight off the main hall. An ornate door of wrought iron and etched glass. Beyond the glass, she glimpsed greenery. She tried the handle, opened the door, and stepped into a high-ceilinged conservatory at the back of the house, its walls composed of a series of honeycomb-shaped glass in a frame of white-washed wrought iron.
As soon as she stepped inside, she recognized the source of the sound she’d heard.
A lovely fountain sat in the middle of the space, surrounded by lush ferns and palms. Vibrant beds of flowers dotted the conservatory, along with cushioned benches. She could easily imagine coming here with her book or a sketchpad and whiling away the hours.
She glided her gaze from plant to plant, wondering if there might be a book in the library to help her identify them. Her sister, Daphne, the plant lover of the Bridewell clan, would have known them all by sight alone.
Movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn.
A syrupy warmth flowed in her veins at the sight of Tristan. He stood off in the corner of the conservatory in an area filled with shelves. Shelves filled with bones.
She swallowed thickly, feeling suddenly guilty. She shouldn't be here interrupting him. He’d offered to show her his laboratory, but now it felt as if she was invading his space without permission.
She took a few steps backward, her boot heels suddenly sounding terribly loud on the conservatory tiles.
