“If you are to learn the art of seduction, you need to arm yourself accordingly. The first place to start is your wardrobe.” Mathias waved his hand at her gown in a dismissive gesture. “I believe the answer to that problem is a visit to Sabine Marchand’s shop.”
“Madame Sabine?” Ophelia gasped with a shake of her head. “My finances do not allow me to even enter her dress shop.”
“Sabine is a personal friend. I will ask her to give you every consideration where you’re concerned,” he replied.
As Mathias glanced around the room, she straightened her back at the sudden comprehension that crossed his features. Ophelia’s mouth tightened resolving not to let him take advantage of her the financial situation.
“If you think I will allow you—I did not agree to be your mistress.”
“Lesson number one, Ophelia,” he murmured. “Be agreeable. Use honey when dealing with the opposite sex. You need not surrender your independence, but if you must protest, do so in a manner that assures the gentleman in question understands you’re grateful for his thoughtfulness. As I said, Sabine is a friend.”
Ophelia studied him for a long moment, debating whether she’d made a terrible mistake. Of course, she’d made a mistake. Mathias Gilchrist was a man used to getting his way. She’d already allowed him to persuade her to engage in this madcap adventure. He arched his eyebrows at her, and she winced at her inability to retract her agreement. Doing so would make her look like a coward, and she was anything but that. Liar. A small voice whispered the accusation in her head.
“I shall accept your offer of introduction and nothing more.” At her firmly worded reply, Mathias narrowed his gaze at her before he accepted her reply with a slight tilt of his head.
“I shall leave instructions with Sabine to receive you this afternoon. I have no doubt she’ll find something suitable for you to wear this evening when we attend the opera.”
“The opera,” she said with a grimace.
“You dislike Puccini?” Amusement made his mouth twitch as he arched an eyebrow at her.
“I can think of other things that are far more enjoyable.”
“As can I,” he murmured in a silky voice as a slight smile curved his lips. “However, if you’re to have the men of the Marlborough Set vying for your company, there will be times when putting aside your distaste for certain entertainments will endear you to the male sex.”
Ophelia eyed him with a wary expression then acquiesced with a sigh. With a look of satisfaction, he stood up, and before she could rise to her feet as well, he closed the space between them. Heat instantly enveloped her skin as Mathias bent toward her. With great effort, Ophelia managed not to shrink back into the cushions of the small couch as he took her hand in his.
“Shall we practice?”
“Practice what?” Confused, a small tremor spiraled through her at how little space there was between them and the warmth suffusing her hand.
“Make me believe you’ll enjoy attending the opera this evening.”
“But I won’t,” she said with a sniff of derision.
“I can see you intend to be a difficult student,” he said in a wry voice.
With a quick tug, he pulled her to her feet without letting go of her hand. The distance between them was mere inches, and Ophelia swallowed hard at the way her pulse was racing out of control. His forefinger tapped her mouth lightly.
“Now then, convince me you’re looking forward to attending the opera tonight, not because you like opera, but because you’ll be in my company.”
The stern, autocratic look of a school master darkened his face as he arched his eyebrows as if it were a royal command. Ophelia frowned and shook her head slightly in puzzled contemplation. Flirtations came so easily to others, but she’d never developed a talent or taste for it. She bit down on her bottom lip and glanced away from him.
“I’m looking forward to this evening, Mr. Gilchrist.”
“That sounds like a debutante fresh out of the schoolroom, Ophelia. Make me believe you’re a woman counting the hours until we see each other again this evening.”
The soft command was more of a caress than an order. It created an odd fluttering sensation in her belly. Confused by her body’s response to him, Ophelia jerked her head up and look at him. Wicked amusement darkened his green eyes, and she quickly fought back against her body’s reaction to him.
When she remained silent, he cocked his head at a slight angle, his sensual mouth tipped upward in an arrogant challenge. It signaled his belief he held the upper hand, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like it one bit. The man was supposed to be teaching her, not irritating her. Eager to suppress the way he was affecting her, Ophelia took refuge behind her growing irritation at his autocratic manner and glared at him.
Ophelia frowned as she tried to think of a way to level the playing field between them. Out of all the thoughts careening through her head, one in particular, pushed its way to the front. Honey. He’d said she should use honey when dealing with a suitor. It was a game she’d agreed to play, and suddenly it was important that she prove she would be a worthy pupil.
“I read once that Oscar Wilde believes there are only two tragedies in life, Mr. Gilchrist. One is when we fail to get what we want, and the other is when we do.” She allowed a small smile to curve her lips as she looked up at him. “At long last, I understand what he meant.”
“I see,” he murmured. “And I trust you will enlighten me as to your revelation?”
“Anticipation.” She tipped her head to one side to appear as if she was considering a deep philosophical question
“Anticipation?” He chuckled.
“As you said last night, it can be quite…pleasurable.” A shiver skimmed its way down her spine as she breathed in the warm, spicy male smell of him. “The more we long for something—ache for it, the more intense the pleasure. So I shall enjoy the anticipation between now and this evening.”
Without realizing she’d done so, Ophelia lowered her voice so that her final words were little more than a husky whisper. As their gazes locked, she saw fire flare in his eyes. Slowly, he raised her hand and brushed his mouth across the tips of her fingers. A second later, he turned her hand over and kissed the inside of her wrist.
The intimacy of the gesture tugged a sharp gasp from her as fire streaked through her body. Instinctively, she tried to tug free of his hold. Mathias thwarted her effort, and she was certain his mouth deliberately lingered in retaliation for what she knew had been a provocative reply.
