What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)

“Oh, I nearly forgot. There’s a letter,” Amy continued, rushing over to the dressing table and handing the sealed note to Sophie. “Mrs. Spencer sent it with the wardrobe,” she said, noticing Sophie’s confused expression. “Are you sure you don’t want me to dress your hair for dinner?” Amy continued eagerly. “I could arrange it for you while you read your letter.”

“Thank you, Amy, but that won’t be necessary,” Sophie replied trying her best to keep up with Amy’s chatter.

“But it’s been ages since I’ve done anyone’s hair,” she said looking a little forlorn. “I promise I won’t do anything too fancy. Mr. Haines said he once saw a lady with a whole bunch of grapes stuck on her head.” Amy gave another snigger at that. “I’ll just do a simple chignon with a few curls framing your face. Mrs. Spencer sent over a pretty little pearl comb that would look —”

“Very well,” Sophie sighed, raising a hand in resignation. She sat carefully on the stool so as not to crease her dress, and turned the letter over to examine both sides. “But nothing too elaborate. Perhaps it would have been wise to do this before I dressed for dinner.”

“It won’t take long, what with it being shorter,” Amy replied, her face a picture of pure joy. “You go ahead and read your letter and don’t mind me.”

The letter, written in a delicate feminine flourish, began with an informal introduction and conveyed an almost childlike eagerness to become acquainted. Charlotte Spencer went on to explain that the garments were new and as Sophie was in such dire need, she could keep them.

Sophie found herself smiling as she refolded the letter. It was remarkable how a few simple words could convey much of a person’s character. She would look forward to thanking Charlotte in person, as she had a feeling she would like her immensely.

“There we are, miss, all finished,” Amy said, placing the unused pins into the glass dish on the table.

Sophie looked up into the oval mirror, angling her head to study Amy’s work. She had done a good job and the overall effect was one of … Sophie struggled to find the right words … one of rustic simplicity.

Amy had attempted to tame the unruly curls, but with Sophie’s hair being much shorter, they refused to comply. Sophie admired the few straggling locks that had already sprung loose at the nape and decided she loved it. Although the style lacked the finesse required for a more formal occasion, Sophie felt it reflected her character perfectly: downright stubborn and wildly unruly.

“It’s lovely, Amy. Thank you.”

“Those curls have a mind all of their own,” she chuckled. “It’s a good job you didn’t fancy the fruit. It would never have stayed in there.” She waited for Sophie to stand and then helped to smooth out her dress. “You’re to meet his lordship in the drawing room.” Amy leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Mr. Haines said his lordship always takes his meals in his study, says he can’t remember the last time he sat down to dinner.”

Was she supposed to be impressed by the effort? Or did he plan to hide behind formality when he berated her for her conduct? No doubt he planned to use his debaucher’s repartee to unnerve her.

“Well, I had better not keep his lordship waiting.”

Sebastian stood at the window, his arms folded as he stared out across the street. He was not looking at anything in particular. In fact, had there been a mugging outside his own front door he would not have even noticed.

He was too busy contemplating Miss Beaufort’s reaction to being thrown into his carriage. He was too busy trying to calm the heat flooding his body at the thought of seeing her again.

The door creaked open and he heard the patter of slippered feet coming to a stop in the middle of the room. His heart thumped loudly in his chest.

“Good evening, my lord.”

Her warm voice brimmed with arrogance, as though she commanded the opposite side of the battlefield and intended to use every tactic possible to demean his position. She would be disappointed. His new approach to her unconventional manner placed him one step ahead. Or so he thought until he turned around.

“Miss Beaufort.”

He greeted her with a slight bow, which afforded him the opportunity to mask his initial surprise, to mask the rush of desire that gripped him around the throat determined to rid him of his breath. He’d expected her to wear the breeches: to annoy him, to prove a point. He’d not expected her to wear a gown or for the neckline to be cut quite so low. Nor had he thought to see her hair piled on top of her head in such a wild and wanton display.

“I wasn’t sure you’d join me.”

“I believe we have a lot to discuss,” she shrugged, revealing a little more of the pure creamy-white flesh he found so appealing.

He made a mental note to find some way of thanking Charlotte Spencer for her trouble. “Then let us not waste another moment.” Sebastian offered his arm, though his gaze followed the line of her jaw, wandered down the elegant column of her neck. “Shall we?”

She placed her hand in the crook of his arm and he had to suppress the urge to drag her to his eager body, to plunder her mouth like a man possessed. He stifled a groan.

They walked the short distance to the dining room in companionable silence. He kept a small staff and so Mrs. Cox and her niece were to serve dinner. They took their seats at opposite ends of the table, which suited Sebastian as the distance served to temper his racing pulse.

“I’m afraid Mrs. Cox’s culinary expertise is rather limited,” he said, straining his neck to see past the tall gilt fruit bowl. Where on earth had the woman found such a monstrosity? Sebastian stood, removed the elaborate display and placed in on the side table.

They passed pleasantries, like strangers seated next to one another at a dinner party.

“The soup’s goo

d,” Sophie replied, dabbing the sides of her mouth with her napkin.