SoundsofLove

by Marilyn Kelly

  Returning his attention to his new paramour, he could not discern a clear need for assistance. Her dress was in the current style and of good quality, as had been yesterday’s gown. The townhouse was modest but in a fine neighborhood. No, these ladies were well cared for by any standards. He would send flowers later today, as he always did after initiating intimacies with a woman.

  Violet was still speaking and he caught the end of her sentence. “Sir Geoffrey thought her translation as good as he had ever seen, and he was a Greek scholar.”

  “Your translation?”

  He addressed Cathryn, but Violet continued, “Sappho, the Greek poetess. Lady Sibley translated all of her poems.”

  “Not only Sappho. There’s so little of her work to be found and much of it is only fragments. I’ve included works by Corina and Nossis. I intended an overview of all the Greek poetesses, but I’ve not yet completed the task.” Cathryn bit at her lower lip as she waited for his reaction.

  He was stunned. Sappho wrote in an obscure dialect few Greek scholars mastered. He’d thought Cathryn’s attendance at the Philological Society meetings a tribute to her husband’s memory, not a sign of her own competence. He’d met few female intellectuals, and he never expected to meet one who resembled a Greek goddess.

  Lewin saved him from having to comment by arriving with the tea tray. A glance at the clock told Julian his fifteen minutes were nearly finished, but he had no desire to adhere to the protocol. He wanted to stay here and explore Sibley’s talents. He would prefer she were naked while he did so, to see if her body was as intriguing as her mind.

  He felt his throat thicken with desire and cleared it before he spoke. “I’ve attempted Sappho, but I found her, well, frankly, overly demanding for a masculine intellect.” He watched her pour cream and tea into his cup as he set aside the ladies’ journal.

  Cathryn handed him a cup, nearly white with cream. “My late husband had the same difficulty. I’ve been fortunate to have some lovely female friends, and I applied my experiences with them to her writings.”

  He nearly choked on his tea. Did she know what she was implying? Sappho was reputed to be a lover of women.

  No. If Cathryn had been intimate with females, she would have known about Fanny Hill’s secrets.

  She paused while pouring the next cup of tea and glanced at him. He could feel the heat in his face and wished he could loosen his cravat and take a deep breath. “My lord, are you well?”

  He nodded and sipped his creamy tea, concentrating on the brew to allow his excited thoughts a chance to cool. Cathryn poured a perfect cup. How was it that so few women understood his preferences with such a simple pleasure?

  He took a deep breath to clear his head, and Violet set a journal down on the table beside the tea tray.

  Cathryn nearly knocked over the teapot in her effort to grab the book. “I don’t want to bother the earl with my amateur attempts at translation.”

  He reached out and caught her arm. “I should like to see them.” She looked like a schoolgirl caught cheating, and he loosened his hold and retreated slightly. “Why don’t you read me your favorite?”

  She shot Violet an angry look. “You’ll have to pour for yourself.”

  Violet chuckled as she rose to comply. “False modesty is very unbecoming.”

  With a shy smile, Cathryn opened the volume and began to read. “The Hymn to Aphrodite.

  Golden-minded, eternal Aphrodite,

  Daughter of Zeus, enchantress, I now implore thee,

  Don't pierce my spirit with pain and anguish,

  Exquisite lady of love.”

  She looked up at him and for an instant, her dark eyes revealed the longing of her soul—that love would be kind to her. Her longing melded with his own, and his heart rate quickened.

  This woman deserved superlative treatment. She touched a part of him few had ever reached, and he wanted more of her. “That’s a fascinating interpretation, Lady Sibley.” His voice came out low and rough, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “May I borrow your manuscript to study it?” He vowed to make his liaison with her a most beneficial one and was glad he had told her as much downstairs. His need for simple seduction ceded to his desire to please her.

  She hesitated and gave Pickering another dour look, but she handed him the leather-bound journal with a sigh. “I would rather have time to correct some mistakes.”

  The journal was warm from her hands. He set down his teacup and leafed through the text. There was an extraordinary amount of work here, written in tight penmanship that he found easy to decipher.

  “You haven’t worked on those translations in over two years,” Violet interjected. “Now you have your new projects keeping you busy.”

  He wanted to ask Cathryn about her word choices and her new projects, but another glance at the clock showed his time was well past. His waiting coach would draw attention on the quiet street, and he had no desire to drag Cathryn into the gossip columns.

  He needed to make her his mistress soon, so he could spend long but discreet afternoons in her company. “I should like to hear more about your work, Lady Sibley, but I’ve overstayed my visit already.”

  He rose and bowed, tucking the journal into his breast pocket. “Mrs. Pickering, I should also like to see your word puzzles. Perhaps when I call next you might have some available for me.”

  “It would be an honor, my lord.” Violet smiled, then jumped to her feet, startling him. “Oh, Lord Ahlquist, I very nearly forgot to thank you for your gift. The Johnson-Todd dictionary. It will be ever so helpful to us both in our endeavors.” She gestured to the tome on the side table. “Lady Sibley and I spent hours yesterday playing word games using it as a reference.” She laughed lightly. “We giggled like schoolgirls over some of the strangest words you could fathom.”

  He was very sorry he missed that fun. Beautiful women, laughter and new words. His reluctance to leave this cozy scene multiplied as he stepped away from the fire and drew on his gloves.

  “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed the gift.” He faced Cathryn and took her hand in his. “I nearly forgot. Mrs. Burns’ correspondence. I’ve drafted a reply but I wanted to ask if you had any dates you prefer.”

  “Hunting begins in six weeks,” she replied without hesitation. “Anytime after that will be fine.”

  He realized he still held her hand, but he was loath to release her. “Do you hunt?”

  “Oh, yes. Hunting and fishing both.” Her eyes took on a gleam. “I was squeezed between four brothers and we had some grand times out of doors.”

  Etiquette be damned. He had to know this woman better. He cleared his throat and led her over towards the door. “Cathryn, are you free this afternoon? Would you like to visit the museum with me?”

  She glanced over at her sister-in-law, looking like a child denied a sweet. “I’m afraid not. I…that is, we, spend two afternoons a week as reading tutors at the Chelsea poorhouse. I’m afraid the children look forward to our visits tremendously, and I couldn’t—”

  “No, of course not.” He released her hand, reached for the door and muttered, “Lucky bastards.”

  “My lord?”

  The irony of his statement hit him and he chuckled. He was jealous of the poorhouse children—that was a new low. He drank in one last look of his lovely Cathryn. “Tomorrow?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “The museum?”

  He smiled at the genuineness of her response. Most women favored shopping or carriage rides in Hyde Park, but he preferred museums and libraries. The prospect of squiring an intelligent woman appealed to him. “Shall I call for you at two?”

  “Perfect.”

  He fished a few sovereigns from his pocket and handed them to her. “For the children. Buy them some sweets.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “Shoes, my lord. I shall buy them shoes. Winter is near.”

  He watched the coins disappear in her dress pocket. What a remarkable female. “Until tomorrow.”

 
Descending the staircase, he wondered if Lilith had ever visited a poorhouse, or performed any acts of charity. No, he was quite certain that none of his mistresses had been the least bit altruistic. He proudly gave a tenth of his earnings to public assistance and had thoughts of greater philanthropy. Now he wondered why he had always bedded women who were completely focused on themselves.

  It was just as well Sibley wasn’t free for the afternoon. He needed to end his attachment to Lilith. He hadn’t touched her yesterday, for the first time in a year of frequent visits, so this would come as no surprise. He would offer her introduction to several of his friends, but he had lost his taste for her.

  Cathryn was much more delectable.

  Cathryn clung to the door handle for a moment after Julian left. She would see him again tomorrow. She closed her eyes and the image of him in the study filled her senses. She needed to be alone with him.

  Her body was thrumming with delight and anticipation when she turned and saw Violet grinning at her.

  “I’d say you have the earl firmly in your clutches. Whatever do you plan to do with him?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She wandered over to the window and peered out. His fine carriage was waiting at her doorstep, and she could see his crest from here, a golden lion on a red background with the motto Virtus et Honor, virtue and honor. She dearly hoped he was an honorable man.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way he looks at you, and you at him, for that matter. What happened between you two yesterday?”

  She held her breath as she waited for a glimpse of him leaving her front door.

  Violet came to stand beside her and joined the brief vigil. “Are you two…involved?”

  “Oh, yes,” Cathryn sighed, unable to restrain her emotions. “I’m quite taken with him.” He appeared on the sidewalk, and both women craned their necks to watch him board his carriage, followed by the swell of his tan greatcoat.

  The coach lurched forward into traffic, and Violet turned away. Cathryn waited until his carriage disappeared around a corner, sighing when she lost sight of him. It was adolescent behavior, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Well then, what do you plan to do with Sir Percival?”

  She didn’t want to think about Percival—she wanted Julian. She gathered her thoughts to respond to Violet’s question. “I don’t believe Ahlquist is a candidate for marriage…” She puffed a small pillow and set it back down on the seat. “So I am conflicted over further involvement.” She made her way slowly to the settee, savoring the way everything appeared new to her eyes. The plants were glossier, the fire brighter, the sunshine warmer on her back. “The earl has asked me to settle with Percival before we…proceed.”

  Violet retrieved her needlepoint from the end table. “He’s asked you to be his mistress?”

  “Not in so many words, no, but I believe that is his intent.” Only twenty minutes ago, such a limited liaison seemed perfectly reasonable, even if dangerous to her future well-being. A shot of panic surged through her. Now that the words had been spoken aloud, and she planned to end her betrothal, she was abandoning a lifeline she hadn’t known she valued. Percival was safety, for her and for Violet. Dallying with Julian was perilous.

  Violet settled in the chair by the fire. “Is that what you want?”

  Cathryn nodded in spite of her reservations, and her alarm subsided. Julian would do well by her, he had told her as much. “I do. I know he’s wrong for me, but what woman wouldn’t want him?” His image flooded her mind, and she continued, “I would give up a great deal to wake up next to a man as handsome as he is, even if only for a few months.”

  “He is a striking man and most congenial.” Violet paused in her stitching. “You’ve been attending meetings for nearly a year, how is it that you never mentioned him before?”

  Cathryn swallowed hard as she faced a painful truth. “I thought him above me.” She felt like a green girl admitting it, but her sights had never rested on him because he was too good-looking and landed regularly in the gossip columns. She’d believed her destiny rested with a man of lesser stature, and steadier temperament.

  “Nonsense,” Violet rushed to assure her. “You’re a person of superior character in every regard. He’s the honored party in this affair. Don’t forget that, Cat.”

  Cathryn nodded as she took her seat and prayed Violet was right. Her father was a baron with little property, a recluse in his dusty library since her mother passed a decade ago. Her eldest brother’s only interest appeared to be modern agricultural techniques, her other three brothers had scattered to the edges of the earth, and none yet achieved fame or fortune. Her family had little to recommend them to such a grand man as the earl.

  Nonetheless, Julian Ahlquist had just been here in her parlor, as entranced by her as she was by him. He was beyond her dreams, and yet, the tantalizing temptation was exquisitely real.

  “How do you think Percival will take this?”

  Cathryn resented the intrusion on the thoughts of her lover-to-be, and her eyes drifted slowly to Violet threading a pink strand for her embroidery. “You know him better than I, you tell me.”

  “Well, he lacks charm—Ahlquist has enough for them both. But Percival is proud as the day is long, and he can be vindictive if he feels crossed.” She poked at the fabric. “He’s a baron now, and I imagine that has gone to his head. I could envision him bringing a breach of promise suit if he feels injured by you. That would be a scandal, and the earl wouldn’t want to be party to that.”

  Cathryn pondered Violet’s words as she stared at the fire and was startled when Violet added, “Perhaps you misunderstood Ahlquist, and he means to court you.”

  “No, I think not.” Cathryn shook her head. “He needs a younger wife, or a woman with a history of bearing sons.”

  “Geoffrey had no children from his first marriage. It’s likely he’s the infertile one.”

  Cathryn dearly hoped so, she wanted children very badly. “In any case, Ahlquist’s interest in me is purely physical.” Perhaps he had ways to keep his mistresses from conceiving—she would have to ask. She didn’t want a child out of wedlock.

  Violet snorted lightly. “He quoted you, Cat. I think that’s a sign you two are destined for one another.”

  Cathryn warmed at the thought. Could Julian Ahlquist be her destiny? It was an outlandish thought, audacious beyond imagination. She had simply caught his eye and he was attracted to her.

  He planned nothing more than an affair—or had she misunderstood him?

  Chapter Four

  “En garde!”

  Julian parried the thrust and lunged forward to return one of his own, which was easily deflected.

  “Too low,” the fencing master warned, then scored a hit on Julian’s right shoulder. “And too slow.”

  Julian resumed his stance, and his instructor continued to decimate him. Normally they were more equally matched, but he was distracted this afternoon. Lilith had made a terrible scene just hours before, breaking glassware and maligning his character and person most thoroughly. He ached to see Cathryn but had no excuse to do so. He would have to wait until tomorrow.

  Another hit scored very near his heart, and even through his protective leather jacket he suffered the force of the blunt tip and took a step back.

  “Enough!” yelled his fencing master. “Your tempo and distance are off today. I cannot fence with you or I will become polluted by your incompetence.”

  Julian dropped his sword tip and removed his leather facemask. “My apologies, Master Aubrey.”

  “Who is she?” Master Aubrey removed a similar mask, and a cascade of light-blonde hair fell nearly to her waist.

  Julian stared at his instructor’s unusual tresses for a moment before turning away. Fiona Aubrey was not only the finest fencer in London, she was exquisite, even as she approached forty. “You don’t know her,” he muttered as he accepted a towel to wipe his face.

  “Well, you’d best get under
her skirts quickly or your fencing will degrade.”

  Julian shook his head. “What makes you think I haven’t—”

  “I’ve been instructing you for two decades. You slow down a full measure when your balls are full.”

  A bark of laughter from the doorway caught both their attention. “Ah, Fiona, my delicate flower.” Noel Ahlquist, Marquis of Darlington approached his mistress of nearly twenty years with a broad grin. “I see you are giving my son lessons in anatomy now.”

  “He’s fortunate there are no wars to wage, he would need a whore before every battle.”

  “Is that so uncommon?” Noel reached her and gave her a kiss on the lips.

  Julian turned away to shed his gear and wished the sight of Fiona with his father didn’t still tug at his chest.

  “No.” The frost in her voice seemed to thaw at his touch. “If I had a penny for every whore I heard moaning in our camp on the night before a battle, I would not need to teach.”

  “I would give you a thousand pennies, my love, if I could ease your memories.”

  “It wouldn’t be enough,” she said as Noel helped her remove her protective jacket. “On the night before Waterloo, there was a chorus of passionate wailing all around our tent.”

  “Surely they weren’t all whores.”

  “Well, my mother never wailed. Her breathing barely changed when Father mounted her.”

  Julian and Noel exchanged an amused look as Fiona strode across the room in her black breeches and close-fitting top.

  “And Melina’s parents were equally quiet.”

  Noel bristled at the mention of Fiona’s tentmate from the Napoleonic wars. Julian wondered if he knew of Melina Burns’ correspondence with the Philological Society. He didn’t want to mention it in front of his father, who shared his jealous discomfort over the infamous woman’s alliance with Fiona.