Chapter 10
Lord Alderton was nothing if not kind. And attentive.
Oh, but he was so very attentive.
She smiled when he brought her lemonade. "Thank you."
Not only was Lord Alderton so very kind and attentive, but he had lovely warm eyes. There was absolutely no reason her pulse should remain so stubbornly, irritatingly calm.
Not that she expected swooning and passion at the duchess's afternoon musicale. But wouldn’t it be lovely to feel at least a hint of…something? A stirring of excitement, perhaps. Or even a flutter of nerves.
But no.
Her gaze slid to the side, where Sebastian stood looking gloomy as ever in the midst of a small gathering of gentlemen.
Her belly instantly tightened, and her pulse skittered. Not with those kinds of nerves, of course. It was just that he was so difficult to read, and so intimidating with his growling voice and his dark glares.
Just then he turned her way, and those dark eyes met hers. She looked away hastily, gulping a too-large, rather unladylike swig of her lemonade.
Drat. Her cheeks were already beginning to burn.
No, no. It was for the best that she didn’t react to Lord Alderton like that. It was far too uncomfortable. One could not marry a man who made her cheeks burn and her heart do somersaults.
One would expire before the honeymoon even ended.
"Did you wish to join Her Grace?" Lord Alderton’s voice startled her.
She whipped her head around to look at him. "Pardon?"
He gestured in Lord Blackwood’s direction, and it was only then that she realized he was standing close to the duchess. They were speaking to different clusters of guests, but their shoulders very nearly brushed.
"Oh, no." She flashed a smile at Lord Alderton. "I was just…taking in the crowd."
Lord Alderton returned her smile and gestured to a vacant chair so she might sit for the musicale. She sank into it and did her best to focus on Lord Alderton and the musicians who were preparing to play.
But her gaze kept drifting back to Sebastian and the duchess. What was the relationship there, exactly?
Though she’d been staying in the duchess’s home, and the woman had been nothing but gracious and accommodating, she’d hardly say they’d formed a friendship. She knew as little about the other woman now as she had when she’d first met the lady.
If anything, the duchess had taken on a sort of governess role. She’d accompanied her to the seamstress, ordered new gloves and slippers. She’d given a brief but thorough lesson on every eligible gentleman in good society.
In short, the duchess had been wonderful. But as Estella eyed her now, it occurred to her that she still did not quite understand why the duchess had chosen to help her. And, even more confusing, how she’d dragged the marquess into it.
Yes, he’d been Andrew’s dearest friend. But were he and the duchess so close that the duchess felt comfortable asking for his assistance?
As she watched her two benefactors, she became acutely aware of what a fine pair they made. Though she was a widow, she was still quite young. Likely the same age as Sebastian, or perhaps even a year or two younger.
Were they merely acquaintances or friends, or…
Estella turned back to the musicians with a sigh.
Did it matter? No, of course it didn’t. She supposed it only bothered her that the two people currently guiding her entire life were both a mystery.
She’d entrusted her future to these two powerful, intimidating figures without the slightest hint as to their motivations or true feelings.
"Would you prefer the punch?" Lord Alderton’s question cut through her thoughts and Estella found herself blinking like a fool.
Punch? She returned back in the present moment, and— Yes. She’d been staring at her glass of lemonade when she’d sighed. She’d most likely been frowning at it as though it had offended her.
She cleared her throat, turned her head, and forced a smile. "The lemonade is lovely. Thank you."
He seemed so relieved, she fought a laugh. Yes, he was an endearing man, to be sure. And far less difficult to comprehend than a particularly dour marquess she knew.
Lord Alderton settled back into the chair beside her. "I confess I'm not much of a musicale man," he said, nodding toward the young woman currently torturing a pianoforte at the front of the room. "But the company more than compensates."
She smiled at the lovely compliment. And if there was a little part of her that wished his words had made her warm or flustered or giddy…
Well, that was just a childish wish, was it not?
She took a sip of her lemonade. A calm pulse was a perfectly acceptable foundation for a marriage. Preferable, even. It meant steady judgment. There was no danger of being swept off her feet by charm and flattery, which was precisely the sort of behavior the duchess had warned her about.
But just then—
She felt it. That awareness that prickled along the back of her neck like the air before a storm.
Sebastian was looking at her. Odd how she always knew it.
It took everything in her not to fidget. It was even more difficult not to turn and confirm that his gaze was on her.
"Miss Hale?" Lord Alderton was watching her.
"Forgive me." She turned to him. "You were saying?"
He opened his mouth but was cut short by the sound of instruments tuning, coming to life. The gathered crowd found their seats. Estella was grateful for the distraction. She wasn’t much in the mood for polite conversation—comfortable or not.
The pianoforte performance concluded to polite applause. There was a shuffling of guests as the next performer prepared, and Estella saw Sebastian making his way toward them. Or rather, making his way toward the refreshment table, which happened to require passing near them.
He looked particularly striking today. His dark coat was impeccably cut, and his dark hair was groomed neatly. The scar was visible in the afternoon light, but she'd stopped noticing it the way she had at first. It was simply part of his face now. Part of him.
There were times when she found herself thinking it actually added to his appeal. She wouldn’t say it was dashing or roguish. That seemed too whimsical considering the tragedy that had caused it. But it did mar the otherwise too-handsome features, making him more…real.
He was a man who’d faced hardships. Who’d overcome grief and tragedy, just as she had.
And perhaps Sebastian was just as attuned to her stares as she was to his, because he stopped beside her. He inclined his head. "Miss Hale. Lord Alderton."
"Blackwood," Alderton said pleasantly. "Enjoying the music?"
Sebastian's gaze flicked to the pianoforte, where the next performer was arranging her sheet music. "Immensely."
It was one word, delivered with such perfect, bone-dry flatness that Estella's lemonade nearly came out of her nose.
Pressing a hand to her lips, she stifled the response. She would not laugh. No, she would absolutely not laugh, because Lord Alderton was sitting right there being perfectly nice and she was not going to snort, for heaven’s sake, at another man's deadpan observation.
Sebastian's gaze met hers, and she saw the faintest glint. Not quite humor. But an invitation to share the joke, offered so briefly that if she'd blinked she'd have missed it.
It was the sort of moment one shared with a close friend. A meeting of minds, as it were. And just then, quite inexplicably, her heart gave a solid whomp in her chest. Her limbs grew heavy and her breath hitched, and—
What was this?
Her breath caught at the suddenness of her reaction. It was purely physical, and it meant nothing. Likely just the warmth of this music room getting to her. Or perhaps a delayed reaction to Lord Alderton’s kind attentions.
Yes, that was it. Her reaction to Alderton was just delayed. Very, very delayed.
She took a very deliberate sip of her lemonade as the two men spoke of the music, the weather, and so on.
Fortunately, neither made much of an attempt to solicit her thoughts on these matters, because…goodness, she was so exhausted by the weather. To be clear, not the weather itself, which was lovely. It was the incessant talking about the weather that made her want to take a nap.
The next performance began and Sebastian returned to his seat. Estella was grateful that the next performance was marginally better than the first.
After that, there was an intermission, during which the guests mingled. Lord Alderton excused himself to speak with an acquaintance, and Estella found herself near the refreshment table beside Sebastian.
He glanced over at her, his expression grim as ever, and equally unreadable. "You're enjoying Lord Alderton's company."
It was not a question. His voice was perfectly neutral, but she found herself tensing defensively all the same. She chose her words carefully. "He is very pleasant."
"He is."
A silence. She waited for more.
More did not come.
"Is that all?" she asked. "No assessment of his character? No inventory of his flaws? You've been remarkably thorough with every other gentleman who's so much as glanced my way."
By this, she meant he’d been abominably picky. Which she was grateful for, of course. That was the whole point of Sebastian and the duchess stepping in to help her find a match.
They were supposed to be thoughtful and particular.
But during one brief and moderately ridiculous conversation the other morning, she’d sat in the duchess’s study as the two of them listed out pros and cons of every potential candidate.
Like some sort of lively debate that had nothing to do with her, Estella had listened to the duchess remark on their finer points before Sebastian would cut them down for their weaknesses. Too old. Too lecherous. Too much of a drinker. And one that seemed rather ungenerous, Too bald.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. "Alderton is a good man."
Her brows rose. "High praise, coming from you."
"Not praise. Merely an observation." He picked up a glass from the table. "He would make you a fine husband."