“Do your best,” urged the Duchess, sinking back down into her chair.
Sylvia walked quietly along the corridor to the library. She did not knock but pushed open the door and entered. The Count was standing with his back to her, examining the books arrayed on a shelf in one of the bookcases. He turned when he heard her step. His eye ran almost insolently over her figure and she suddenly wished she were wearing something with a higher neckline.
“Lady Sylvia,” he exclaimed.
Sylvia swallowed and held out her hand. The Count took it and raised it lingeringly to his lips.
“Would you…care for some tea?” asked Sylvia, withdrawing her hand in as polite a manner as she could.
“Thank you, no,” replied the Count. “I was hoping to speak to the Duke.”
“My father is…still resting.” Sylvia felt her v
