Page 24 of The Vagabond Viscount
Tonight, she had gone with a soft chignon. He loved it when she wore her hair like that; it made his fingers itch thinking how easy it would be to slip the pins and ribbons from her tresses and have them tumble down.
Of course, in his imaginings Augusta would be naked when he teased her hair free. She would step into his embrace, offering her lips for his hungry kiss and sighing softly when he took one of her soft-peaked nipples between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a gentle tweak.
She loves it when I do that.
“Wine or brandy?”
Flynn stirred from his lustful daydream. A footman was standing to his right with a tray of drinks in his hand. “Brandy, thank you,” he replied.
It was another hour of songs, musical pieces, and some dull poetry before the evening’s host announced supper. To his relief, the performances had mostly been of a first-rate standard. Flynn, who considered himself accomplished with the piano, was delighted that several of the piano pieces were ones which he knew quite well.
If he had his way, he would practice the piano at home, but the earl was not one for having music in the house. The only chance Flynn did get to play was at the home of friends who politely indulged him from time to time.
As soon as everyone rose from their seats and began to mingle, Flynn sought Augusta out. She was talking to her sister Coco, the youngest of the Kembal offspring. As he approached, Lady Coco met his gaze and touched her sister’s arm. She whispered something to Augusta, but Flynn didn’t catch it.
To his disappointment, Augusta stayed where she was, her back turned toward him, her shoulders stiff. He could just imagine that she was composing herself, putting her social armor in place.
I have hurt you, and I am so sorry.
If there was any justice in the world, they would have been the first words he spoke to her. But in the middle of a crowded supper room, manners had to take precedence.
“Lady Coco. Lady Augusta. What a pleasure to see you both here this evening.”
Augusta finally spun slowly on her heel to face him. She dipped into an elegant curtsy. “Lord Cadnam.”
He caught the odd look of confusion on Coco’s face, and it was clear her thoughts had gone to wondering why her sister was addressing an old family friend in such a formal manner.
Coco held out a hand. “Flynn. What brings you out to an evening of music?”
He gladly took the opening. “I played the piano and violin from an early age. I was even graced with the chance to learn the hammered dulcimer, which few in London high society can play.”
Augusta lifted her head and gave him a tight smile. “You do play the piano quite well. And Mama has always said you would have made a fine professional musician if you had ever pursued such a career.”
Talk about a stiff conversation. This was how strangers, newly acquainted people spoke, not friends who had shared many an afternoon laughing and playing parlor games. It was sad, but it served to strengthen his resolve.
If anyone could understand the need to protect oneself, it was Flynn. He was the master of the polite façade. Of hiding one’s pain, both emotional and physical, from the world. Augusta was doing her best, but she couldn’t hide her heartache. It was written all over her face.
She shouldn’t have to be doing this, and after tonight he was determined, she wouldn’t ever have to do it again.
I just need a moment alone to speak to her.
To confess his feelings and talk about his plans for their future.
Lady Coco looked from her sister to Flynn, her brows furrowing as she did. “Have the two of you had a fight? I heard the play at Covent Garden was terrible, but I don’t see how that could be Flynn’s fault.”
The question was addressed to Augusta, who was now wearing a tight smile on her lips. If she smiled any harder, he was certain her face was going to crack.
Flynn stepped forward. “Could I trouble you for a word in private, Lady Augusta?”
At that moment, Lady Coco had the good sense and grace to move away. She gave a cheery wave to another guest and bid her sister and Flynn a quick. “I shall leave the two of you to resolve your disagreement.”
His hand was on Augusta’s arm before she had the chance to follow after her sister. “Please, Augusta, we need to talk. I have important things I must tell you.”
* * *
She didn’t want to talk—she wanted to crawl up into a ball and cry. Why was he doing this? Adding more pain to an already tortuous situation. But with his hand resting gently on her forearm, Augusta had little choice but to nod and agreed to Flynn’s request.
If you think you are going to play games with me, you have another think coming. I am done with it all.
