Page 11 of Seducing Sophia (Scholars of Seduction)

CHAPTER4

On his next visit to Summerton Hall, Adrian found himself ushered in by the same young maid who’d welcomed him before. But, rather than escort him to the music room, she led him toward a door at the far end of the entrance hall.

She knocked on the door, and a rich, commanding voice answered.

“Come in!”

The maid opened the door, and Adrian entered the room.

An enormous bookcase dominated the far wall, filled floor to ceiling with volumes, all neatly stacked, the gold leaf embossing on the spines forming a pattern. At either side of the bookcase, a large porcelain urn stood on a plinth—two silent sentinels guarding the books against the unworthy, and the illiterate.

The pattern on the urns was unmistakable. They were the Ming vases Dominic had been complaining about for weeks—heirlooms that had been in the Peterton family for over three hundred years and that Dom’s ancestors had not had the foresight to include in the family trust.

By virtue of Dom’s ancestors’ addiction to gaming—and, most likely, whoring—these precious heirlooms, together with the house in which they stood, were the property of the woman in the room—the woman who sat behind a large mahogany desk, with the air of a schoolmaster waiting to dole out a punishment.

The infamous Mrs. Huntington. The woman who was leading Dom a merry dance, and refusing to accede to his demands.

“Colonel FitzRoy to see you, ma’am,” the maid said.

“Thank you, Tilly,” came the reply. “You may leave us.” Mrs. Huntington gestured to a chair.

“Please, sit.”

Adrian found himself obeying. Despite her slim frame, her voice held a note of command. Her reputation was that of a woman not to be trifled with.

According to Dominic, Lysetta Huntington was rumored to be the bastard daughter of the Duke of Bostock, from whom she had clearly inherited her striking looks. A man would recognize those features anywhere—jet-black hair, eyebrows that seemed perpetually fixed into a frown, and chocolate-brown eyes, so dark they seemed to absorb the light. Her hair was scraped back into an unforgiving, severe style, almost as if she detested the very notion of beauty. Yet, there was no denying that she possessed a certain allure—the air of dominance and authority that, in a man, was enough to render countless women helpless and begging to warm his bed, but, in a woman, gave her an air of impenetrability.

She was the type of woman who could only ever be described as handsome. Not a quality Adrian prized, but to a predator like Dominic, she’d present a challenge.

“I had not expected the pleasure of seeing you this afternoon, Mrs. Huntington,” he said.

Her lips thinned into a harsh, unforgiving line and she folded her arms. A mark of disrespect—or, perhaps, a gesture of defense? Her brows creased into a frown and he detected a flicker of pain in her eyes.

The late Edgar Huntington had earned a reputation for being a driven businessman, and was rumored to have treated his employees, and his business partners, with brutality in order to further his empire, before he’d died during a riot at one of his factories, and his widow had promptly sold the business.

Were the rumors true that she had been the power behind her late husband’s business empire? Perhaps she’d witnessed—and experienced—her husband’s brutality.

But whatever the rumormongers said, there was no chance of Adrian finding out. Her shuttered expression was not something even the most tenacious man would find easy to penetrate. He wished Dominic luck in besting her. She’d make a formidable opponent, and Adrian suspected Dom would come off worse in any war he waged against the woman.

She leaned forward and placed her arms on the desk.

“I think we can dispense with the niceties,” she said, “can we not, Colonel FitzRoy?”

“Surely you expect me to be civil, at least?” he asked.

“An outward appearance of civility might be a necessity in public,” she said, “but while you’re in my house, I would rather you refrain from any attempt at gallantry. I find it an unnecessary use of one’s resources. I prefer to get straight to the point, and indulge in an honest conversation by asking why you’re here.”

“If you refer to this room, madam, I had no intention in coming here, but I believe you summoned me.”

She arched a dark eyebrow and fixed her gaze on him, once again, exuding the air of a schoolmaster, ready to punish a pupil who’d just cheeked him.

“I’m here to see Mrs. Black,” he said.

She let out a sharp huff of irritation. “You are not here to see anyone, Colonel, if I do not wish it. If you are to be believed, you’re here for a music lesson, not to pay a social call.”

“Does Mrs. Black require your approval when she admits each new pupil?”

“It’s not a case of gaining my approval,” she said. “But while you are under my roof, I must ensure that propriety is observed at all times. I’m afraid your reputation precedes you.”

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