A Study In Seduction by Nina Rowan Page A

shoulder.
    “My father, the Earl of Rushton,” Mr. Hall said.
    Lydia’s fingers tightened. “My lord, a pleasure to meet you.”
    The earl glowered at her from beneath bushy eyebrows, gave a gruff nod, and turned away. Jane tried to ease away from Lydia, whose grip was beginning to hurt.
    “Come along, then.” Lydia steered Jane back to the piano, bending close to her ear. “I do hope you didn’t disturb him.”
    “His bark is worse than his bite,” Mr. Hall said without concern, his voice almost amused. “Unless you’re his own child. Sit down, please, Miss Jane, and we’ll begin.”
    Jane sat at the piano but glanced toward the alcove at the earl. The outside door shut with a click as he left.
    She turned her attention to the piano, obeying Mr. Hall’s instructions as she tried to convince her fingers to cooperate with her brain. After an hour of learning the keys and starting scales, Jane followed Lydia from the town house with a lesson book and a sense that she might not have an exact talent for music.
    “It’ll take some time,” Lydia assured her as the cabrattled toward home. “Once you start learning songs and such, I’m sure it’ll become more interesting.”
    “Did you ever take piano lessons?” Jane asked.
    “No.” Lydia looked out the window. “Too busy with other things.”
    Jane glanced at the notebook Lydia still held on her lap. As much as she loved her sister, she couldn’t help wondering why Lydia never seemed to do anything beyond mathematics and tutoring. She’d never married, she didn’t have friends over for tea, and she attended social events rarely and only when Grandmama insisted upon it; she didn’t even like shopping or going to the theater.
    Seemed to Jane there ought to be more to life than numbers. Certainly there ought to be more to
Lydia’s
life.
    “Where did you meet Lord Northwood?” she asked suddenly.
    Lydia gave her a startled look. “Oh… I can’t remember. Why?”
    “His father is a bit stern. Lord Northwood didn’t seem that way. Neither did Mr. Hall.”
    Lydia made a murmuring noise. “What did you say to him? Lord Rushton?”
    “I asked him about his seedlings and what might be the matter with my fern. Seems he’s got an insect problem. He wasn’t as… as
earlish
as I thought he might be.”
    “What did you think he’d be like?”
    “Rather majestic, I suppose, as if he’d just come from meeting with the queen. Instead he was more grumpy than regal. I don’t suppose he’s invited to court often.”
    “Because of his temper?” Lydia smiled. “Papa was once received at court, you know. When he was knighted. That was years before you were born.”
    “Did you attend the ceremony?”
    “No, but Mother told me about it. She said it was magnificent, if a bit severe. I’d the sense that she would have liked to tell a rude joke or something simply to see what would happen.”
    Jane grinned. “Was she fond of jokes?”
    “She was fond of laughter.” A soft, bittersweet affection flashed in Lydia’s eyes. Jane knew that though their mother had died a decade ago, shortly after Jane was born, Lydia had lost her long before that. And yet Lydia rarely spoke of their mother’s illness—she told Jane only of the days when she was whole and well, the way her eyes lit with happiness and her laughter sounded like bells.
    “She wanted everything to be light,” Lydia said. “Cheerful.”
    “Not like Papa,” Jane said, then added, “Or you.”
    “No.” Lydia slipped her arm around Jane, drawing her closer. “I’ve always been like him. Serious, academic. But secretly I wanted to be more like her.”
    “Why?”
    Lydia brushed her lips across Jane’s temple. “Because I thought life would be easier.”
    “But her life wasn’t easy at all,” Jane said.
    “No, that’s true. I was wrong.”
    Lydia’s arm tightened around Jane with sudden urgency, and she pressed her cheek against Jane’s hair. Jane started a moment, then slipped her