Page 4 of Seducing Sophia (Scholars of Seduction)

CHAPTER2

“Your next pupil is here, ma’am.”

The maid dipped into a curtsey. A little unsteady on her feet, but the girl had been at Summerton Hall less than a week, and though the poor child had no knowledge of her exact date of birth, she was, Sophia believed, no older than twelve years.

“Thank you, Tilly,” Sophia said. “Would you show her in, please?”

“Oh…” The maid hesitated then colored and curtseyed again. “Very good, ma’am.” She disappeared through the door, almost tripping over her hem. The uniform was too large for her thin frame, but in time she’d grow into it.

Sophia picked up the sheet music and arranged it into a neat pile on the stool beside the small square pianoforte on which she conducted her lessons. She picked up a booklet, opened it, and ran her finger along the marks, tracing the pattern made by the notes printed on the page.

Bach’s minuets—dedicated to his second wife—were ideal for new pupils. The pieces carried enough of a melody to maintain the pupil’s interest, yet were sufficiently straightforward that most pupils could master the right hand, at least, and thus be encouraged to return—and, more importantly, pay—for repeat lessons.

For a fleeting moment, she was assaulted by the memory of the first day she’d played Bach’s minuet in D in Lady Claybone’s drawing room. That was the first time she’d met him.

William—the man she had fallen in love with.

The man who’d broken her heart, leaving her ruined and despoiled.

She closed her eyes and her nostrils quivered at the memory of his scent. Sandalwood and spices. The scent of man.

The memory was so strong, she could have sworn the scent was real.

With a sigh, she closed the booklet.

A deep cough made her jump, and she turned around.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

Not just leaning. He dominated it with his body. Broad shoulders filled out a smart, dark blue jacket, tailored to perfection. One hand was inside his pocket, the other hanging casually by his side. Long, lean fingers flexed, curled, and uncurled. Her gaze wandered over his body—the jacket, the highly polished black boots—then it settled on a pair of cream-colored breeches that fit his muscular thighs like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination.

His body was so large…

So muscular…

So male.

He shifted his weight onto one leg and crossed his ankles, almost as if his position were intended to draw her gaze toward his very maleness. Her cheeks warmed with shame, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

A deep voice spoke. “I think you’ll find my face is up here.”

Sophia looked up and her breath caught in her throat.

Clear blue eyes regarded her with appreciation. They radiated a sharp intelligence and something else—desire, and wickedness. Something she had not seen since…

She tried to swallow but her throat was dry. She curled her hands into fists only to find her palms slick.

His eyes darkened and a slight smile played on his lips while he held her gaze, as if he challenged her to look away.

But she couldn’t.

His looks conveyed a savage virility. A thick head of hair as dark as a raven’s wing surrounded a strong, angular face with dark brows, a strong, straight nose, and a full, sensual mouth.

He was, without doubt, the most handsome man she had ever seen.

A small sigh escaped her lips, and his eyes darkened. His mouth curled into a smile of triumph, then he parted his lips, and the tip of his tongue flicked out, and the sunlight glistened on his moistened lips.

It was as if he understood her—as if he could read her innermost thoughts and her body’s desires before she knew them herself.

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