“Hyacinth…” His voice sounded almost teasing. “How long?”
She closed her eyes. If he laughed at her, it would be worse than mortification. It would be heartbreaking.
“From the moment I saw you. Months ago. At the Wetterworths’ ball.”
He did laugh. Not a hearty guffaw, or even a true robust chuckle. More of a huff of mirth. Nearly a scoff.
Hyacinth straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, and opened her eyes.
Oh.
He’d leaned closer, and his eyes were tracing over her face, her hair, her neck and lower…
“Then I’m the one who’s been remiss,” he whispered. “How could I not have noticed you that night?”
Now it was Hyacinth’s turn to laugh. “I was hardly the most interesting debutante. Especially with Marigold beside me. I was one of many, on my way to being a wallf?—”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips, then lifted it to once again trace over her cheek, slipping a strand of hair behind her ear. “A wallflower you may be, but you are interesting. You are lovely. And I was a fool not to notice.”
“I…” Hyacinth didn’t know what she’d meant to say. She didn’t know what to say at all.
“But I see you now,” he continued, “and I have to admit, I’m loath to let you out of my sight.”
“Hyacinth?” Marigold called to her from close by.
Tristan bent close enough to lean his forehead against hers. “And now I must lose sight of you, it seems.”
Hyacinth dared to reach a hand up and trace the edge of his square jaw with her fingertip. She felt his breath gust against her cheek as she did.
“I will see you every day,” she told him, her heart swelling from his words, from having his warm body so close to her own. “We are here for a fortnight, you know.”
Tristan lifted one of her hands and kissed her knuckles, one by one. “Every day,” he said like a vow. “Come to the conservatory early tomorrow morning if you can.”
“I will,” Hyacinth promised.
He bent his head and brushed a soft kiss against her lips that was over far too soon. Then he straightened and allowed her to step out from behind the oak to find Marigold.
Though he held her hand clasped in his until she stepped so far away that they had to let go.
CHAPTER 9
The next morning, Tristan went to his laboratory early, settled behind the table he’d commandeered as a desk, and tried his best to focus on a draft of a lecture he would be giving in the coming month. Yet all his mind truly cared to do was listen for the sound of footfalls to indicate Hyacinth had come to find him.
He knew it was ridiculous. He was being greedy to expect her to seek him out so early, even improper if her brother-in-law discovered he’d arranged to meet his unmarried sister-in-law alone. Again.
But none of that seemed to matter as much as the desire to spend more time with her, know her better, touch her again.
As with all days of the planned house party, there would be a robust agenda of activities and meals and formal and informal gatherings for guests to partake in. He realized he would need to be congenial to everyone, but he couldn’t deny the desire to send the rest of them home and while away the hours with her.
Even if they were simply sharing the same space and reading, he suspected it would be more enjoyable with her near. He tapped his fingers atop a book he’d chosen from his library forher. An early volume of a book that would soon be published, cataloging the history of paleontological studies to the turn of the century. It was a book few could get their hands on, and he hoped she’d be as excited as he was to read it.
A shockingly sentimental thought came of notion of them sitting and reading it together.
He took up his pen again with a small smile curving his lips, and for a quarter of an hour, he did get lost in his work. But then he heard the footsteps he’d been waiting for.
His heartbeat came alive in his chest. He laid his pen aside, licked his lips, and turned for his first glimpse of Hyacinth.
But it wasn’t Hyacinth. Emma strode toward him quickly, a kerchief clutched in one hand, the other balled into a tight fist.
