Chapter 7
Hyacinth with the help of a lady’s maid shared by each of the female guests was dressed and prepared for the evening's activities an hour before they were expected to gather in the dining room.
Emma had never come up to speak to her, but she assumed she was merely busy with preparations of her own.
Hyacinth had chosen one of the books she’d brought with her and settled before the fire for a bit, trying to lose herself in the words on the page.
But the lines of text seemed to blend together, or she read the same lines over and over.
Her mind would not allow her to focus because she could not escape the thought that Tristan was here, in this house, just a few rooms away from her.
The anticipation of when she’d see him again was like a low hum in her body that she couldn’t dispel. She quite liked the thought of him being so near.
And, now, she was looking forward to whatever interactions they might have over the fortnight. She no longer worried that he wouldn't notice her. She didn't even give much thought to Lady Felicia.
Something in the way he'd spoken to her, just those couple of words, made her heart flutter.
She wondered where his laboratory might be. Was it upstairs, perhaps a part of his private rooms? It would need to be well lit, tidy, a place where he could focus and store his finds.
He had offered to show it to her, and, of course, she was impatient for that. Desperately curious, in fact.
Before she could overthink it, she laid her book aside, and stood. She glanced at her evening gloves, then looked at herself in the cheval mirror in the corner of the room. Despite being overdressed for prowling through the house, her curiosity was too ravenous to keep her inside her room.
She made her way down the stairs and explored the rooms off the main hallway, hoping to find the library.
A family like the Brookes would have an extraordinary one, filled with volumes on science.
Astronomy. Chemistry. Paleontology, of course.
And Emma favored the study of biology, particularly of animals.
“May I assist you, Miss Bridewell?” a voice called.
Hyacinth looked over her shoulder to find Mrs. Paxton approaching with a kind smile.
“I was looking for the library. Would it be all right if I had a look?”
Mrs. Paxton nodded. “Of course, miss. It’s just there, last door on your right at the end of the hall.”
“Thank you. Do you know if Miss Brooke has come down yet?” Or Sir Tristan Brooke, she wanted to add.
“I believe she’s still preparing up in her rooms. Would you like me to ask her to visit you in the library?”
“No, that’s not necessary. I’ll see her in the drawing room soon enough.”
Hyacinth took her leave and approached the far end of the hall, noticing that the library door was half open. She could smell that distinctive scent of aged paper, ink, and book leather. But as she pushed the panel open, a sound caught her attention.
The sound of water dribbling in a steady stream.
It emerged from a door straight off the main hall.
An ornate door of wrought iron and etched glass.
Beyond the glass, she glimpsed greenery.
She tried the handle, opened the door, and stepped into a high-ceilinged conservatory at the back of the house, its walls composed of a series of honeycomb-shaped glass in a frame of white-washed wrought iron.
As soon as she stepped inside, she recognized the source of the sound she’d heard.
A lovely fountain sat in the middle of the space, surrounded by lush ferns and palms. Lush beds of flowers dotted the conservatory, along with cushioned benches. She could easily imagine coming here with her book or a sketchpad and wiling away the hours.
She glided her gaze from plant to plant, wondering if there might be a book in the library to help her identify them. Her sister, Daphne, the plant lover of the Bridewell clan, would have known them all by sight alone.
Movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn.
A syrupy warmth flowed in her veins at the sight of Tristan. He stood off in the corner of the conservatory in an area filled with shelves. Shelves filled with bones.
She swallowed thickly, feeling suddenly guilty. She shouldn't be here interrupting him. He’d offered to show her his laboratory, but now it felt as if she was invading his space without permission.
She took a few steps backward, her boot heels suddenly sounding terribly loud on the conservatory tiles.
Tristan turned and spotted her before she could make her escape. Even from across the room, she could see that he was shocked to see her. His eyes widened.
“Hyacinth,” he said quietly.
“Yes, I'm sorry. I was exploring and heard the fountain and I was curious.”
To her shock, he flashed a smile. “So here you are.”
Hyacinth took a shaky breath. “And so here I am. I'm sorry to disturb you. I’ll go.”
“No.” The word emerged loud, echoing up to the high ceiling. “You’re not interrupting.” He glanced about him. “Would you like to see?”
Hyacinth bit her bottom lip. “Are you certain?”
“I'm certain. Come.” He lifted his hand, as if he was asking her to dance, and took a few steps toward her.
She crossed the distance and ached to put her hand in his, but he dropped his arm as she approached.
“As you can see, it is very much a makeshift laboratory.” He sounded almost chagrined. “But it works for my purposes.”
Hyacinth couldn’t imagine any reason for the hint of reticence she heard in his tone.
She took in the shelves and the rows and rows of bones.
Some tiny. So small that several of them would fit in the center of a palm.
Some of them large, some enormous. All of them impressive and fascinating to her. She wanted to study each one.
There were shelves of books too, along with what looked like ledgers or notebooks. Then set on its own, inside a glass case upon a dais of velvet sat one particular set of bones.
“Are those…?”
“Yes.”
The bones of the dinosaur that had captured the interest of the queen and resulted in her granting him a knighthood.
“Would you like me to have a closer look?”
“Oh, you needn’t—”
“If you’re interested, I’d be happy to.”
Hyacinth stepped a bit closer and looked up into his eyes. “Yes, please.”
He opened the glass lid gently, then extracted one of the larger bones and turned to place it in her outstretched palms.
She realized she was holding her breath and exhaled slowly. “It's extraordinary to think about how old this bone is and the creature it belonged to. From so long ago and yet it’s survived and is here with us now.” Hyacinth looked up at him, awed. “It's extraordinary.”
Tristan’s smile softened the sharpness of his jaw, carved a dimple at the edge of his cheek. “It is. And they are a mystery we’re attempting to solve, yet we have these precious clues to help us understand them.”
Hyacinth carefully offered the bone up to him, and he scooped it from her palm. When their skin brushed, she felt a rush of warmth up her arm.
“It gives us a sense of the vastness of history. The enormity of time. And it does put things in perspective.” He spoke with quiet earnestness that held her spellbound.
Once he’d replaced the bone next to the others and closed the glass box, he turned back to her.
They stood close enough for her to see the thickness of his lashes, the streaks of gold in the deep blue pools of his eyes.
Hyacinth felt her pulse speed, knew her breaths were coming too quickly.
“We humans tend to feel like we are the center of the universe, but there were other living creatures here long before us.” He let out a soft chuckle. “The whole matter has often raised controversy. Perhaps you don’t agree.”
“Of course I agree.” She knew he likely referred to the debates about the dating of dinosaurs and reconciling where they fell in geologic time and how they might conflict with the religious views of some. “Did you think I would disagree?”
He laughed lightly again. “I have only ever found you to be agreeable, Miss Bridewell.”
Hyacinth frowned. “I thought we agreed you would call me Hyacinth.”
“I did only a few minutes ago, but perhaps I prefer Miss Bridewell when I tease you.”
Hyacinth jaw dropped and an odd little gasp escaped between her lips.
Tristan smiled. “Tell me when you first became interested in paleontology.”
Hyacinth grappled for thoughts. Any thoughts that weren’t about the color of his eyes, the shape of his plush lower lip, the tantalizing spice and juniper scent of him.
Finally, she managed to comprehend what he’d asked of her.
“From a young age, honestly. My family would visit the seaside and after I found my first seashell, I was curious. I read all I could about sea creatures and fossils, and that led to discovering the work of Mary Anning.”
“Your curiosity is tenacious,” he observed.
And it didn’t sound like a criticism but a compliment.
“It is. I am forever asking questions.” She studied his profile as he glanced away from her. “You must be a curious sort too.”
“I am.” He looked back at her, one dark brow arched. “I’m curious about you.”
Hyacinth let out a shaky laugh. “About me?” Her heartbeat rang loud in her ears. “I’m not nearly as interesting as even one of these bones,” she said, for some reason needing to deflect the attention she’d been craving from him for so long.
“I disagree. You see, I think anyone with a voracious curiosity is interesting, and I know that about you, but not much else.”
“W-what is you wish to know about me?”
He assessed her a moment, his gaze searching her face.
It was both delicious and nerve-wracking to be the object of his scrutiny.
“Why are you a wallflower?”
Hyacinth laughed. Too loudly and not at all ladylike, but it burst out of her.
Tristan grinned. “Is it such a ridiculous question?”
“No, it’s simply that… Well, isn’t the answer obvious within the definition of the term itself?”
He frowned. “Are you accusing me of being obtuse?”
“No!” Heavens, she was offending him and he was standing close enough for her to reach out and touch him if she dared.
“I suppose I’m avoiding saying the embarrassing truth that I am a wallflower because I do not tend to be very popular at the balls.” There. She’d said it.
Tristan drew in a breath, crossed his arms, studied her as if she was a confusing equation. “That is the odd part to me. Why are you not popular?”
Hyacinth chuckled nervously. “I suppose in a Season full of debutantes, I’m not the most—”
Tristan lifted a hand as if to forestall whatever she planned to say. “You’re lovely, Hyacinth, intelligent, kind, and a mind that seeks answers.”
There were so many compliments piled atop one another that she felt a bit dizzy.
“And so I fail to grasp why the two of you aren’t as sought after as other debutantes.”
“Emma is all of those things too,” Hyacinth said suddenly, because it was true and her heart and mind were grappling with how highly he seems to think of her.
“Yes.” He dipped his head. “But she would argue I’m saying those things because I’m her brother, yet I have no such excuse with you.”
Suddenly, and to her very great delight, he took a step closer. Once again, he searched her face, fixed his gaze on her eyes. He looked as if he wished to say something more, but didn’t.
Hyacinth barely resisted the wild urge to reach for him.
“Perhaps,” she said, voice breathy, “you see something in me that others don’t.”
“Perhaps I do.” He leaned closer.
Hyacinth forgot how to breathe.
Then he seemed to catch himself and took a step back. “Forgive me. You must feel as if I’ve placed you under the microscope.”
Oddly, she quite liked the idea of him being intrigued enough to do so.
“And what do you think you’d see when you studied me?”
It was his turn to let out a hearty laugh, but then he took that step again. Closer. So near that she could feel the warmth of his body but a few inches from her own.
“I’ve only just begun,” he said, his voice pitched lower. “But your eyes,” he murmured as he held her gaze, “are very expressive.”
“And what do they express?” Hyacinth whispered.
“Warmth and…”
“And?”
“What seems like yearning.” He swallowed thickly.
His Adam’s apple bobbed against the edge of his necktie, and she wanted to trace the spot with her fingertip.
“Or perhaps I’m imagining things,” he said with what seemed forced lightness.
Hyacinth felt herself listing toward him, as if her body was drawn to him and had no choice but to inch closer.
He leaned nearer too, so close she tipped her chin up to hold his gaze.
And then impulse took over.
She reached for him, a hand gripping the edge of his morning coat, then inched up onto her toes and brushed her lips against his.
He responded instantly, a hand cupping her cheek, his fingers stroking against her jaw as he kissed her in return. Then again.
Tristan’s other hand circled her waist, pulling her closer still.
And when she gasped he stroked his tongue past the seam of her lips.
Hyacinth froze in shock before pleasure coursed through her as she held him tighter, but her reaction caused him to still and pull back.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, seeing the look of confusion on his face and knowing she was the one who’d kissed him.
“Don't apologize, Hyacinth.”
“I should,” she said weakly. “It was impulsive.”
He still cupped her face and he stroked her cheek with this thumb. “It was lovely.”
“I don’t regret it,” she blurted.
That won her the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen. His eyes glittered, then he glanced down at her lips again. And that yearning he spoke of seeing in her eyes? Oh, it was there in his gaze too.
“There you are,” Emma called.
Tristan released her, lowering his arms. Hyacinth took a step away.
“I thought you’d be in your room,” Emma continued as she approached from across the conservatory.
Hyacinth turned to face her. “You found me.”
Emma looked pleased to find them together. “I take it he’s shown you his collection.”
“He did.” Hyacinth wondered if Emma could see it—the heat in her cheeks, the way her breath was racing from her lungs, the way her heart was thrashing.
“It’s almost time for our gathering. Will you two come with me to the drawing room to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything?”
“Of course,” Tristan said from over Hyacinth’s shoulder.
He took a step closer and a shiver skittered down her back.
“Shall we?” he murmured quietly to her.
“Yes.” Hyacinth glanced back at him, and his gaze slid down to her lips again.
When the three of them strode together out of the conservatory, Hyacinth’s knees felt like jelly, and she had to remind herself that she had a whole evening ahead of her yet.