Free The Secret to Seduction by Julie Anne Long Page B

could move unless they truly felt what they were playing. She’d understood the piece, the passion and poignancy of it.
    “She certainly did,” Wyndham concurred. “And really, Rhys, there could be no other explanation for Sophia’s performance tonight. I mean, we hadn’t even reached the begging or bribing stages. You can be certain that if Miss Fairleigh were plain, Sophia would not have made the effort.”
    “I’d had the thought as well. No doubt Sophia needs adulation the way La Valle needs his drink, and perhaps Sophia thought there wouldn’t be enough for her should we spare some for Miss Fairleigh. But Miss Fairleigh is hardly any sort of competition for Sophia, in singing or any other aspect of life.”
    Rhys had leaned his stick against the wall to pay proper attention to his cigar.
    “Are you going to tell Sophia so?” Wyndham wanted to know.
    “Good God, no. I’m not mad.”
    Wyndham laughed.
    Nor did Rhys plan to pay a visit to Sophia tonight. She would be expecting him of course, thinking all she’d needed to do was wind the golden rope of her voice around him to tug him back into her bed. It was a familiar little game. He didn’t think he was tired of it yet.
    He did, however, think he might enjoy tinkering with the rules.
    He could do without her tonight. One of the advantages of being The Libertine, and a grown man, was that he wasn’t at the mercy of his sensual needs. He knew they would be met very nearly the moment he needed them met. It pleased him a little to think that few other men could make a similar claim.
    And then he felt restless, because this knowledge did rather shave the sweet sharp edge of uncertainty from desire.
    God, but he was tired of feeling restless.
    “So how’s the painting coming, Wyndham?”
    “I’ve made a tree.”
    “Good, good,” Rhys said absently. “Make some more.”
    Wyndham bent to shoot again. “Speaking of the fair Miss Fairleigh, we’ll be deprived of part of our party tomorrow. Lady Mary informed me at dinner they intend to return with the Colberts for a visit to see Lizzie Colbert’s new baby!” Wyndham imitated Mary’s breathless tones.
    Rhys grinned. “I’ve nothing at all against new babies. Something needs to replace all the ones that grow to be adults. Here’s to Lizzie.” He raised his glass.
    “And it seems Lizzie Colbert has an ailing father who would appreciate a visit from a ‘man of God,’ or so those were her words, so your cousin Geoffrey will go along, as well as the fair Miss Fairleigh. Who, as she sat at my other elbow at dinner, told me the winter will be early and hard, thanks to the squirrels in Tinbury, or some such.”
    “Deuced squirrels,” Rhys said idly, and took a long satisfying pull from his shortening cigar.

    CHAPTER SEVEN
    I DON’T LIKE the look of the sky,” Tom said grimly. “It’s too still, too even a color. Mark my words, there will be a snowstorm soon.”
    Living on the street for a good portion of his life had given Tom an animal’s instinct for the caprices of weather.
    The trip from London to Gorringe had been long and uncomfortable, as the first snows had muddied the roads and other passing equipages had made great furrows of them. The horses slowed to pick gingerly over ruts, but the wheels took them hard nevertheless, and conversation inside the coach began to sound like hiccups from the sheer amount of jolts. Up top, the coachmen availed themselves heavily of the contents of flasks, as much a winter accessory as the scarves and wool coats they wore.
    Jamie Shaughnessy had been left for the day with his aunt Daisy and The General, who spoiled him unconscionably, and would probably inadvertently add a word or two to his vocabulary that didn’t belong. But they loved him nearly as much as his father did.
    And at last the stained-glass windows of the church, bright as jewels, signaled the travelers, and they were there once more. Susannah unconsciously reached for Sylvie’s hand, a