Part 26 (1/2)

Helena held to Marjorie's side as they entered and greeted their hostess. An unexpected tension, an apprehension, stretched her nerves taut. Moving into the considerable crowd, awash with laughter and good cheer, she searched with her eyes, with her senses, and breathed a tight, small sigh of relief when she could detect no glimmer of Sebastian's presence.

After some minutes of chatting, then moving on, she parted from Marjorie and ventured on alone. She was a.s.sured enough, now well known enough, to make her way with confidence. Although unmarried, she was so much older, so much more experienced than girls in their first or even second season, that she was accorded a different status, one permitting her greater social freedom. Speaking to this one, then that, she worked her way through the crowd.

She still had three names on her list, but only Were was confirmed. Were Athlebright and Mortingdale present? Quite how she might engage with them to a.s.sess the effect of their touch in the middle of a crowded salon where talk and not dancing, certainly not touching, was the princ.i.p.al aim was a problem-one at which her mind boggled and failed.

Turned too readily aside. After last night, her mind had more troubling thoughts to ponder.

d.a.m.n Sebastian!She had constantly, throughout the night, through the silent hours in which she'd tossed and turned and tried to forget, tried to wipe from her mind the sensation of his lips on hers, the warmth of his nearness, the allure of his touch.

Impossible.

She'd spent hours lecturing herself, pointing out how directly against her careful plans falling victim to such a man would be-only to wake from l.u.s.tful dreams of doing precisely that.

Shocked, she'd sat up, risen from her bed, washed her face and hands in cold water, then stood before her window staring out at the black night until the cold had forced her back to her quilts.

Madness. He had sworn never to marry. What was she thinking of?

It was impossible, more than impossible, for a woman such as herself-an unmarried n.o.blewoman of old family-to become his mistress. Yet to marry a complaisant husband knowing herself driven by a need to be free to engage in an illicit but socially acceptable liaison with another-that, too, was unthinkable. At least to her.

Sebastian, she was sure, had thought of it, but that had never been part of her plans.

Still wasn't.

Which left her with one very large problem-he surprised her by appearing in the doorway to an adjoining salon just as she approached it.

”Mignonne.”He took the hand she instinctively raised to ward him off, bowed, and raised it to his lips.

Her eyes met his over her knuckles as she belatedly bobbed a curtsy; what she saw in the blue depths made her lungs seize.

”Your Grace.” Cursing her breathlessness, she struggled to marshal her wits as, still holding her hand, he urged her back from the doorway toward the side of the room. Forced to comply, she reminded herself of how dangerous he was-only to have another part of her mind airily point out that with him, she knew she was safe.

Dangereuxon the one hand, knight-protector on the other. Was it any wonder she was confused?

”Indeed, I am very glad I met you.” Attack suited her more than defense. She faced him, head high. ”I wished to say good-bye and to thank you for your a.s.sistance through these past weeks.”

She could tell nothing from his expression-the polite mask he so often wore-but she saw his eyes widen a fraction. At least she'd surprised him. ”I understand that the masquerade tonight will be very crowded, so it's possible we will not meet again.”

She stopped there, bit her tongue against a nervous urge to babble on. If what she'd already said didn't put him in his place-didn't tell him how she'd decided to react after last night-nothing would.

He was silent for some minutes, his unnerving blue gaze locked on her eyes, then his lips curved, just enough to tell her that the smile was indeed genuine.

”Mignonne,you never fail to surprise me.”

Briefly, she glared. ”I am honored that I amuse you, Your Grace.”

His smile only deepened. ”You should be. There's so little these days that amuses such a jaded soul as I.”

There was sufficient self-deprecation in his tone to make it difficult to take offense. Helena contented herself with another glare-then felt heat shoot up her arm as his fingers s.h.i.+fted and one stroked her palm. He'd lowered their hands but hadn't released hers; his fingers curled protectively around hers, their linked hands hidden from all by her wide skirts.

”But there's no reason to bid me farewell. I'll be by your side tonight.”