Chapter Six
Her eyes flew closed, and she met his kiss, her lips locking with his. She leaned her head back, feeling the spines of books against her, as he deepened the kiss and then broke off, trailing kisses down her neck.
“Forgive me, Miss Clifton, but you have a lovely neck.” He mouthed the words against her skin, making goosebumps prickle up and down her arms. Mr. Heyter released her and wrapped his hands around her waist, then touched her face, kissing her soundly.
She met him, kiss for kiss, moaning softly as he made a sound in his throat. He took her wrists and slowly raised them up above her head, pinning them together.
Her eyes flew open. Her chest rose and fell. She breathed hard, and her lips felt a trifle bruised. He met her gaze, his brown eyes now wide and black with desire. He kissed her then, first her lips, then moved down her neck, and then kissed the top of her chest.
She sighed and sagged against the bookshelves, not caring about the hard spines that pressed against her head and back. She felt pinned, in the best way.
With his free hand, he trailed his fingers down her chest, to her sides, and lower, to curve against her bottom. He squeezed, gently, still kissing her lips.
She was wearing too many clothes. She didn’t want all these layers in the way. The tender part between her legs felt hot, even damp, and she madly wished she might find a way to raise her legs, propriety be dashed, and show him her fine stockings and beg him to touch her down there.
She gasped, the feeling of his mouth on her lips, her neck, the top of her chest. It was almost too much to bear. She breathed loudly, leaning into his touch, her breath ragged, when he pulled away.
He slowly lowered her wrists and stood there, his hands on her waist. There was no denying what they had been doing.
They faced each other, eyeing each other. She wondered what he would do next. She wondered if she would go along with it. This was wilder than anything she’d ever imagined. And she wanted more of it. She didn’t want him to stop. She opened her mouth to speak but only breathed hard.
He wore a devilish smile. He eyed her chest, her lips, taking in the sight of her. “You are delicious.” He kissed her lips again. “But my mother is nearby. I know her step. And we have been gone too long already. We should get back.”
She nodded and took a moment to recover herself. She bowed her head. Had she done wrong?
“You look stunning.” He reached and traced his thumb across her bottom lip. “I love this lip.”
She licked her lip, and he groaned. He closed his eyes and stepped back. Mr. Heyter turned and ran a hand through his hair, then walked to the desk. He turned back, leaned against the desk, and surveyed her from head to toe. “Come. Let us rejoin the others.”
She smoothed down her skirts and patted her hair.
He stood in her path for a second, brushed some dust from her hair, and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
Their eyes met. Such an intimate movement.
Did he still want her? Well-bred young women did not go kissing polite men in libraries.
It simply wasn’t done. And yet she had done that very thing. She wondered what he was thinking.
His brown eyes were still dark and he blinked. “Please. After you.”
She walked back to the main parlor without a word, and rejoined his mother in conversation. The older woman said, “Ah, Miss Clifton. And what do you think of our little library? Is it as dusty as I fear? Did it make you sneeze?”
It certainly did something, Sibyl thought. I’ll never look at libraries the same way again. “Not quite, Mrs. Heyter. But there are a lot of books to admire.” Amongst other things.
They resumed their chess game, but she was not quite recovered from their kissing in the library. Mr. Heyter took advantage and claimed a pawn. “Miss Clifton, you are distracted.”
She reached across the board and brushed his hand with hers, offering him the pawn. Two could play at that game. “Apologies, sir. My mind was elsewhere.”
She held the pawn in her hand and met his gaze. He took it, tracing her palm with his fingertips as he took the piece.
She lowered her hand. The game was on.
Sibyl focused on the game then and ultimately lost, but it was close. She did not even notice that Mrs. Heyter had pulled up a chair to watch.
“Oh,” Mrs. Heyter said in disappointment as Sibyl lowered her king in defeat. “What a game.”
“Indeed. Thank you for the match.” Sibyl rose from her seat. “But we have stayed too long. We should be getting back.”
“You’ll not stay for dinner?”
“No, but thank you. Our mother will be wondering what’s become of us.”
Lucy had risen as well and said something to Penelope, who whispered something back.
“Well, do come again,” Mrs. Heyter said. “It was lovely to meet you both. Charming.”
The women curtsied, and Mr. Heyter added, “I’ll see you out.”
As their walking coats and bonnets were collected, Mr. Heyter and a footman escorted them outside to their family carriage.
Sibyl was a little surprised at having Mr. Heyter present as well but did not speak of it.
As Lucy climbed inside the carriage, Mr. Heyter took Sibyl’s hand. She gave a soft gasp.
“Thank you for today,” she said. “I hope Miss Heyter didn’t mind our staying so long.”
“Not at all, I rather suspect she enjoyed the company.” He looked down at her, holding her hand in his. “When might I see you again?”
Her heart lifted. “I do not know.”
He lifted her gloved hand to his lips and helped her into the carriage. He stood back and bowed as they rolled away, into the London streets.
“Did you have fun?” Sibyl asked.
Lucy yawned. “Yes. She’s nice. She thinks her brother likes you.”
“Oh?”
“Apparently, he was talking about our visit all morning.”
“Was he?” Sibyl smiled.
“And why were you in the library so long? Was it hot in there or something? Your cheeks were bright pink when you came back.”
“Yes, it was. Warm, I mean.”
Lucy rolled her eyes and looked out the window.
Sibyl’s heart thumped in her chest. He wanted to see her again. He liked her. He’d called her stunning. But she wondered. Would he like her as much when she was revealed to be Phillippe’s muse?
The days passed. Lucy became friends with Penelope Heyter and often paid a call over to the Heyters’ home to pass the time. Apparently, the young women had bonded over pirate stories and plays.
Penelope, Lucy reported, was a cheerful, boisterous girl who liked to climb trees and act out characters in plays.
She loved the idea of acting on the stage, even though her mother warned her that was not a suitable aspiration for young ladies of good breeding.
That hadn’t stopped her from wearing a homemade eyepatch and tricorn hat, however, holding the servants up for pretend ransom and imagining that the nearby trees were the masts of pirate ships.
Until she’d fallen and broken her leg. Penelope hated being made to lie still for so long, so Lucy’s company was very welcome.
Sibyl hadn’t gone back since that fateful day. She felt shy and with each hour, wondered if she had made a mistake in allowing Mr. Heyter to kiss her, and in kissing him back. What had she done?
Fortunately, she took long walks with Isobel, and her lady’s maid, Greene, walking behind as chaperone.
Isobel was beginning to fancy Mr. George Percy, and talked of little else but finding a new young beau to meet.
Sibyl spent a few calm afternoons sat in Phillippe’s studio, being a model that happily read books as he sketched and painted.
He had not shown her any of the works he had done but had decided that she too, would be in for a surprise when the works were revealed at the Royal Exhibition.
It was during a walk with Isobel in St James’s Park that Sibyl began to wonder if she might not ever see Mr. Heyter again. Her mother had continued to take her to dinner parties and the occasional concert, but she hardly met any suitors and those she did seemed disinterested.
She too, had little to offer in the way of conversation. No man was interested to talk much about poetry or novels, and she did not want to play chess with anyone but him.
“All right, what is it, Sibyl? You’ve been distracted this entire time,” Isobel said.
“What?” Sibyl said. “I’m sorry.”
“You haven’t heard a thing I’ve said, and I’ve been telling you something important for the last five minutes.” Isobel pouted. “But now that I’ve got your attention, I wanted to say… Oh. It’s him. Look.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Percy and that friend of his whom Miss Harvey fancies. What’s his name… Hayfer? Hayver? Hever?”
“Heyter,” Sibyl said.
The men had seen them and began walking toward them.
Mr. Percy raised his hand in greeting. Mr. Heyter’s expression was serious.
That day, he wore a dark slate-blue-gray waistcoat beneath his tan walking coat and top hat, with dark trousers.
Mr. Percy looked equally smart in a smart brown suit jacket and light-beige trousers and knee-high boots.
“Why good afternoon, Miss Blakeney, Miss Clifton.”
The men bowed, and the ladies curtsied. Mr. Heyter looked serious and did not smile. Sibyl lowered her gaze, feeling Mr. Heyter’s eyes on her.
“Shall we walk a little together? It is a fine day,” Mr. Percy said, extending his arm to Isobel.
“Oh, yes.” Isobel took his arm and they began walking, leaving Sibyl and Mr. Heyter to walk together.
He, deliberately it seemed, walked a few steps behind the other couple. In moments, they were out of earshot. “Are you well, Miss Clifton?”
“Yes. You?”
“And your family. They are all in good health?”
“Yes, they—”
“The reason I ask is because we have seen your sister visit, and she has been a wonderful friend to Penelope, but you, we have seen nothing of. My mother wonders if she or I have offended you somehow.”
Sibyl’s hand darted to her mouth. “Oh. No.”