Page 16 of Seducing Sophia (Scholars of Seduction)

She turned away, and opened the music book, studying the notes on the page. “Yes,” she whispered. “He does. It’s a great comfort to know that Henry takes after him. I loved him very much.”

She blinked against the sting of tears.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”

She forced a smile. “Not at all,” she said. “It does me good to talk of him—to keep his memory alive. He was a hero.”

“Did he serve in the army?”

She nodded. In her attempt to paint William as a hero whom she’d loved, she had invented a husband with all the attributes William had lacked.

“Yes—he fought in the Peninsular War,” she said. “He was killed in battle. Henry and I are very proud of him.”

“What a coincidence!” he replied. “Perhaps I knew him? I fought myself—in the Battle of Sahagun. Which regiment was your husband in?”

“Regiment?” she hesitated. “I-I can’t recall. Why do you ask?”

“I served in the fifteenth,” he said. “I might have fought alongside him.”

The fifteenth? Dear Lord! She needed to stop this line of questioning. She had no wish to discuss William. Not with anyone. Henry must never know that his father was a drunken rake.

“It wasn’t the fifteenth,” she said. “It was the…the sixteenth, if I recall.”

He creased his brows into a frown. “I’m not aware they landed at Corunna.”

“Corunna?”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she felt her cheeks warming under his scrutiny. “Oh,” she continued. “Perhaps I’m mistaken. I must admit, I always found myself confused about the names of all the different regiments.”

“Do you know the name of his commanding officer?”

“I…”

Sophia hesitated. The risk of telling falsehoods was that they needed to be backed up with detail. And a man of the meanest intelligence—let alone one as sharp eyed as Colonel FitzRoy—would know that the widow of a serving officer ought to know considerably more about her late husband’s regiment.

She blinked, and the action released a tear that rolled down her cheek.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I see my line of inquiry has caused you pain.” He took a step closer. “The last thing I wish to do is distress you.”

“I’m not distressed.”

He smiled, then took her hand. Her skin tightened at his touch and a jolt of desire ran through her, and she caught her breath. His nostrils flared and he pulled her closer. She tipped her face up, and lowered her gaze to his lips.

“Ahem.”

The sound of Mrs. Huntington clearing her throat echoed outside. Sophia drew back. How could she have forgotten they were being observed from next door—even if Lysetta could not see them?

She gestured toward the piano. “Shall we proceed with the lesson? Then, before you leave, you might spend a few minutes with Henry.”

“Of course,” he said. Before he released her hand, he stroked the back of it with his thumb. Her skin came alive, and she fought the urge to lift her hand to her lips. Never before—not even when she had fancied herself in love with William—had she been assaulted with such sensations of desire.

If nothing else, today’s lesson was going to prove to be an exercise in self-restraint.

* * *

As the lessondrew to a close, Sophia found herself admiring her pupil. His command of the music might not be the greatest, but his articulation and phrasing transcended the regularity of the notes on the page, and spoke to her soul.

As she watched him play, she saw his expression change. Rather than the savage virility he displayed when standing before her, he seemed to soften while sitting at the keyboard, as if his soul, which remained hidden, revealed itself with the melody. He seemed to be driven by a need to express himself through the music. It was a need she understood, for she possessed it herself—not to impress an audience in a drawing room, or a concert hall, but to communicate with her soul.

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