The Piano Tutor Read Online Free Page A

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    She let out a sigh of pleasure, her body sated, her whole being utterly, perfectly content. She brushed her fingers through his silky hair. Nicholas Jameson—masterful and tender, patient and passionate. The door to her heart swung open.
    A smile illuminated his face and he brought one hand up to cup her cheek. “Now that, my Diana, was splendid indeed.”
    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
    It was Wednesday.
    Diana sat in the music room, waiting for the sound of the knocker to reverberate through the entry. Nicholas would be here at any moment. Anticipation fluttered all the way down to her toes.
    Samantha played another run of notes, then glanced at the clock. “Perhaps Mr. Jameson has forgotten,” she said. “He has not developed the habit of coming to Waverly House.”
    “Nonsense. He’s been our piano tutor for weeks now.” Diana infused her voice with certainty. “He has only been delayed twenty minutes. There could be any number of reasons for it.”
    “Perhaps he has been crushed by a carriage, or—”
    “Samantha, enough! I’m certain Mr. Jameson will be here momentarily.”
    After the lesson, she would ask him to stay for tea. She would ask him everything, and have no fear of the answers.
    He had brought music and light into Waverly House. He had coaxed her from behind her comfortable boundaries and shown her what true passion was. Every day from now on would be richer because of it. She would be richer. The memory of his touches, his words, flared through her. She had never felt so beautiful.
    “It’s half past the hour.” Samantha sounded glum. “He’s not coming.”
    Diana bit her lip. Where was he? Anticipation curdled into apprehension. “Practice a bit more, dear. I’ll go check with the butler.” Though of course he would have shown Mr. Jameson straight in.
    The heels of her boots clicked across the marble floor of the entryway. When she pulled the heavy front door open, the butler raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
    The street outside was quiet. No handsome grey-eyed man striding up to her door, no cabs to be seen the entire length of the block. She stood on the threshold for several minutes, the distant clamor of London washing past her, but the street remained empty.
    The butler cleared his throat, and she slowly shut the door. Head high, she re-entered the parlor.
    Samantha’s expression lit. “Is he…?”
    “No. Not yet.” She couldn’t help but glance at the clock. The entire hour had run. Did she mean nothing to him? An ugly sob rose in her throat.
    “Mama?” Samantha sent her a concerned glance.
    Diana swallowed. “I suppose something important has detained him. You may go.” She blinked rapidly against the sting of tears.
    Samantha gave her a hug, then slipped out of the room. Diana bowed her head. Had she been such a fool to listen to Lucy? It had not felt that way at the time. But it seemed she had made a dreadful mistake.
    She had practically seduced him. The piano tutor. He must be too embarrassed to face her, here with her stepdaughter, after what had been between them. He must despise her, think her a woman of exceedingly loose morals, to take such base liberties with her employee.
    Yet he was far more to her than that. Her heart ached with lost possibilities.
    They had, neither of them, promised more than a single hour of unbridled desire. Their banter about tutoring had hardly been talk of courtship, of love. If her actions had been spurred by deeper feelings, as she must now admit, what had she been to him? Only a willing female—one whom he evidently had no more use for.
    She knew nothing about him. Nothing except that he made her feel more alive, more daring, than anyone she had ever met. And now it was ended.
    She could not bear the thought.
    The servants at Lucy’s mansion knew Diana well enough to admit her without hesitation.
    “Is Lady Pembroke in?” she asked.
    “She is, madam,” Lucy’s butler said. “She is taking the air in the garden. Shall I