Page 19 of The Gentleman's Seduction
“Well, it’s only been a day, but I’d say he’s behaving…softer, more uncertain. Like a boy meeting a girl, not a man of eight and twenty.” Mellie continued to work with her hair until the style was complete. Lovely ringlets bounced on her cheeks, framing her face. “It’s a pity you have no jewelry. The gown would look lovely with some earbobs and a necklace.”
Livvy placed a hand to her bare throat, trying to picture it with jewels.
“It’s fine. I’m sure he won’t notice.” Mellie placed white flowers about each cluster of curls. The delicate floral scent would make a person think of gardens in the spring.
“Where did you find these flowers?” It was winter, and she didn’t think the maid would’ve gone to a florist.
“The master has little hothouse at the back.”
Hothouse? She loved flowers and decided she would ask him to show her tonight after dinner.
“There we are,” Mellie declared with a smile. “You’re ready.”
Livvy stood and glanced about for her shawl, the dark-gold one that matched most of her new gowns, and headed for the door. Martin was waiting at the base of the stairs. She held her breath when he glanced up and noticed her. He leaned against the banister, his physique well framed in buff trousers and a dark-blue waistcoat. She licked her lips as she descended the stairs toward him.
There was an untamed masculine pride that radiated off him. From the moment she had first seen him, he’d made her want to act reckless and daring. Some secret part of her that she didn’t normally listen to imagined him kissing her, sliding those strong hands along her body and promising to do all the dark, delicious things that men did in her Gothic novels. She was a candlewick and he was a flame. What would happen between them would be inevitable, and she didn’t wish to deny her body’s own desires.
In that moment she made a decision. If her reputation or prospects did end up damaged, it would happen regardless of what did or did not happen within these walls. Therefore, she was free to choose whether or not anything did happen. She was here to be his companion, and he was a beautiful man. Shewantedto enjoy her nights in his bed, and if she embraced the passion that his gaze promised, she might find some pleasure in it. Her mother had told her that women could enjoy the marriage bed if their partner was skilled. By the way Martin was watching her, she guessed he might be a talented lover indeed.
I will put my trust in him tonight. If he can give me pleasure, then perhaps my time here will be enjoyable.
“You look lovely,” he said as she reached him. “But something is missing.” His gaze slipped over her critically. “Ah yes…” He removed a black velvet pouch from behind his back and handed it to her. She took it, confused, and poured the contents into her hands. A pearl necklace and a pair of extravagant earrings fell into her palm.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I can’t—”
“Put them on. I wish to see them.” He gestured to a tall mirror that hung in the hall. She approached it, and he draped the necklace around her neck. Then she slipped the earbobs on. The effect was outstanding. The pearls on her skin accented the brown silk of the dress. He brushed his fingers along her neck. She wanted to sigh at how good it felt to be touched like that. He pressed ever so slightly into her body from behind in a way that made her skin flush all over as she imagined their bodies pressed together as one breathing being. He was hard, she was soft, yet together they would feel perfect. The thought was so terribly wicked and delightful that she knew it would take ages before she would cease blushing.
“You must take care to wear them often. Pearls are living things. They need to breathe, to be worn.” Martin’s soft, seductive voice made her tremble.
“They’re lovely.” She touched the beaded pearls at her collarbone, taking in the naturally silky feel of them. She’d never given a thought to pearls as living things before, but in a way it made sense. There was magic to the idea that those tiny glistening pearls would need sunlight and air as much as she did, and it made her love them all the more.
“My mother was never one for diamonds or any other jewels, but pearls were different,” said Mr. Banks. “She was fascinated by the idea that a simple clam could take a grain of sand, something so common and insignificant, and turn it into one of the most beautiful things on earth.”
Livvy was lost in his voice as he spoke. Her heart tore for him at the thought of losing his mother so young. He’d been a year younger than she was now. She could not imagine losing a parent, how it could break one’s heart.
But he survived, because he’s strong. Maybe being cold and heartless on the outside is what kept him safe?She had seen that infinite tenderness in his eyes for brief moments when he thought she could not see it. She’d seen the same in her father’s eyes when he looked upon her and her mother.
But I do see. There is goodness in you, and I won’t let the bad beginning between us, or our circumstances, ruin another moment of our time together.
She knew that a lesser man in his position would have taken advantage of her long before now. Yet Martin had not.
“Are you ready for dinner?” Martin’s gaze met hers in the reflection of the mirror.
She turned to face him, smiling a little shyly. “Yes.” She’d never dined alone with a man before.
“Good. My chef is most anxious to serve us some exquisite dishes of his own design. He’s French, and he knows his way about a kitchen.”
“You have a chef?” Livvy slipped her arm through his as he led her into the dining room. She couldn’t believe he’d hired a French chef. Only the truly wealthy did that.
“I do. He’s quite worth the extra expense.”
Martin’s dining room was lovely. Livvy took in the cherrywood paneling of the bottom half of the room and the dark bottle-green painted walls above the paneling. The dark-gray marble fireplace was the focus of the room, with a massive gilded mirror that reflected the light from the windows. Oriental rugs covered the floors, and a cherrywood table was set for dinner. A place was set at the head of the table and another close beside. It didn’t proclaim extravagance too loudly, but it did show the level of luxury Martin was accustomed to.
She pointed at a group of four portraits. “Who are they?”
One she was sure she recognized as a young Martin. His blue eyes were brave and yet kind in the oil painting. That was the man she imagined he’d once been. A man she would have fallen hopelessly in love with had they met under different circumstances.
His eyes softened as he studied the portraits, as though he were seeing his parents again in the flesh, not through layers of oil.
