Chapter 12
Estella stood like a soldier preparing for battle as she awaited the duchess’s verdict.
With her hands clasped before her, she waited near the carriage that would take them to the ball. And truly, she felt…beautiful.
She was clad in the new gown the duchess had provided for her, and her blonde locks artfully arranged by one of the duchess’s most skilled maids. All day she’d been pampered and prepped…
Like a goose being dressed for supper.
Estella smothered a laugh at the thought. It was an alarmingly apt metaphor.
"The neckline is perfection." The duchess adjusted a fold of fabric near Estella's shoulder with a practiced eye. "And the color does extraordinary things for your eyes. You look—" She paused, considering. "You look like yourself, my dear. And that is a beautiful thing."
Estella blinked against an unexpected sting behind her eyes. The duchess seemed cold and rigid when one first met her, but the more time Estella spent in her home, the more certain she was that the outward cold front masked a very warm heart.
If the duchess noticed her sudden bout of emotion, she didn’t let on. She merely handed Estella a pair of silk gloves—new, and perfectly fitted—and said, "Come. Blackwood will be waiting."
The mention of Sebastian sent a fresh wave of nerves crashing over her. She hadn’t forgotten Thea’s words. And she was no more certain of his intentions or his feelings toward her now than she had been after the musicale. But perhaps tonight she would learn more.
On the carriage ride to the ball, it occurred to Estella that perhaps she could ask the duchess about how Sebastian came to be a part of this plan. And maybe even if he’d had anything to do with the help her family had received over the years.
But the carriage rolled to a stop before she’d summoned the nerve. The duchess shot her a mischievous little smile. "Are you ready to face your horde of adoring suitors, Miss Hale?"
Estella burst out in a laugh. Adoring? Hardly. And she wasn’t even certain she had one real potential suitor, let alone a horde.
The duchess’s smile was genuine and warm. "You have a lovely laugh, Miss Hale. You should use it more often."
It occurred to Estella, not for the first time, that the Duchess of Ashworth must be rather lonely. The thought was there and gone before she could examine it, because a footman was opening the carriage door and the noise of the ballroom was spilling into the night.
Once inside, Estella's eyes swept the ballroom. She told herself she was taking in the room, assessing the crowd. She was absolutely not looking for one specific person.
But she found him almost immediately. Sebastian was standing against the far wall, near a pillar, with a glass in his hand and his usual solemn expression. His dark coat was impeccable. His hair was slightly too long, as always. And even from across the room, she could see the scar along his jaw.
Her stomach did a slow, treacherous flip.
"Lord Alderton is over there, dear." The duchess nodded toward the opposite side of the room.
Estella's gaze snapped to where the duchess was indicating. Lord Alderton stood in a small cluster of gentlemen, looking pleasant and well-groomed and exactly as kind as he always looked.
But that wasn't who she'd been looking for. The realization sent heat flooding into her cheeks, and she was grateful for the dim candlelight.
"Yes," she murmured. "Thank you."
There was no denying it any longer. At least, not to herself. She'd been looking for Sebastian. She'd walked into a ballroom full of London's finest, and her eyes had gone straight to the brooding, difficult, monosyllabic man against the wall as though he were the only person in the room.
Thea's voice echoed in her mind. “Secret admirer.”
Her heart did a silly little dance behind her rib cage. Drawing in a deep breath, she smoothed her skirts and tried to compose herself. The duchess squeezed her arm once, a brief gesture of reassurance, and then drifted into the crowd to speak with an acquaintance.
Estella was left standing alone, but it felt different tonight. The sapphire gown made her feel pretty. The duchess's confidence in her still lingered like perfume. And across the room, Sebastian was watching her. That, more than anything else, made her feel…
Not at ease. Not even a little. It made her skin prickle and her heart pound.
But it also made her feel safe. Seen and protected. She might be standing by herself, but she was not alone.
And then she really wasn’t alone because Lord Alderton found her within minutes. He bowed and complimented her gown and made pleasant conversation. He was, as ever, kind and attentive and genuinely interested. And she liked him. She did.
It was just that liking felt so tepid compared to whatever was happening in her chest when she was aware of Sebastian's gaze from across the room.
"Would you do me the honor?" Lord Alderton gestured toward the dance floor.
She smiled. "I'd be delighted."
They danced, and it was…lovely. He was a good dancer, steady and confident. He made pleasant conversation as they moved through the figures, and she responded with appropriate warmth, and all the while she was painfully aware of Sebastian's position in the room.
It was like dancing in the orbit of a sun. Everywhere she turned, she could feel the pull.
And it was madness. She was dancing with a perfectly wonderful man, and yet thinking about a man who seemed to just barely tolerate her presence.
But Thea's words kept circling back. “I do not believe that is obligation, dear.”
Then, could it be him? Could it have been him all along? The paid bills, the vanished suitors, the mysterious benefactor?
She very much wanted to march across the ballroom and demand an answer.
She wanted other things too. And much as she hated the thought, she wished that he’d been the one who’d asked her to dance.
She wished it was him, and not Lord Alderton, who smiled down at her now as they left the dance floor. "Thank you, Miss Hale. You dance beautifully."
Guilt niggled in her belly because she knew her thoughts had been elsewhere the entire time. "You're very kind."
Alderton excused himself to greet an acquaintance, and Estella was left with a head full of questions that needed to be answered.
The duchess stood with friends nearby and she ought to join her. But the ballroom was warm, the crowd pressing, and her new gown felt suddenly constricting.
She needed air. Just for a moment.
She slipped through the terrace doors and out onto the stone balcony. The night air was cool and blissfully quiet. She moved to the railing and tilted her face toward the sky.
The stars were faint, but the moon was bright, and Estella drank in the fresh air. She didn't know how long she stood there, but it was long enough for the chill to creep beneath the thin silk of her gown.
However, it was not long enough to sort out a single confusing thought in her head.
"Miss Hale." The voice from behind her was warm and familiar. "You look as though you could use some company."
She turned. Mr. Fairchild stood near the terrace doors, his smile easy and his posture relaxed.
Surprise flickered through her. "Mr. Fairchild. I didn't expect to see you this evening."
"I've been away. Business in the country." He stepped closer. "You look lovely tonight. That color suits you."
"Thank you, but I was just about to go back in—"
"So soon?" He took another step, and now he was close enough that she caught the sharp sweetness of wine on his breath.
"We barely had a chance to talk last time.
I felt we were just getting to know one another, and then you disappeared behind a wall of duchesses and marquesses.
" His smile turned rueful. "A man’s pride could be wounded, you know. "
She managed a polite laugh, but something had shifted. The easy charm that had seemed so warm at their first meeting now felt different here in the dark. "My apologies, but I should really—"
"Stay. Just for a moment." His hand found the railing beside her, not quite blocking her path but narrowing it considerably. He leaned in, dropping his voice as though sharing a confidence. "I've thought about you. Quite a lot, actually."
Her back pressed against the cold stone of the balustrade. The terrace was empty. The ballroom noise felt very far away.
"I appreciate your kindness, Mr. Fairchild, but—"
"I'm not like Blackwood. You don't have to be nervous around me, Miss Hale." His other hand came up, and his fingers grazed her arm. "We could be friends."
The touch made her skin crawl. She opened her mouth—to say what, she wasn't certain—but the words never came.
Because suddenly Sebastian was there.
One moment the terrace was empty behind Fairchild, and the next Sebastian filled it. He moved past Fairchild and stepped between them, forcing the other man to drop his hand from the railing or have his arm knocked aside.
Sebastian didn't look at her. His attention was fixed entirely on Fairchild, and his voice, when he spoke, was so low and ominous, she almost missed it. "Walk away."
Fairchild's easy smile held, but Estella caught a glint of malice. "Blackwood. I was simply keeping Miss Hale company while she—"
"I wasn't asking what you were doing." Sebastian hadn't raised his voice, nor had he moved. He was simply standing there, a wall of dark wool between Estella and the man who'd cornered her. But somehow the quiet stillness of him was more frightening than any shout. "I was telling you to leave."
Fairchild glanced past Sebastian's shoulder at Estella, and she saw a calculating flicker behind the charm before his smile returned. "Of course. No harm intended. I merely wish to befriend our dear—"
"There are two outcomes to this conversation, Fairchild." Sebastian's voice stayed level. One might mistake it for pleasant, Estella thought. If one was a fool.
"In one of them," Sebastian continued, "you walk inside, collect your coat, and leave this party.
In the other, I make it my particular business to ensure that every creditor, every club, and every drawing room in London knows exactly how you fund your evenings.
The choice is yours, but I'd encourage you to make it quickly. "
Fairchild's smile finally died. He looked at Sebastian for a long moment, then inclined his head in a short, sharp nod in her direction. "Miss Hale."
He turned on his heel and left. The terrace was quiet after the door clicked closed behind him. Estella realized she was gripping the railing behind her so tightly her fingers ached.
Sebastian turned to her. His expression, which had been granite a moment before, turned searching. "Are you all right? Did he hurt you?"
"No. No, he didn't. I'm fine." But she wasn't entirely fine. No harm had been done to her, but she still felt acutely rattled by the whole encounter.
Her hands trembled and her breath was coming too fast, and she was suddenly keenly aware of how cold it was.
His coat settled over her shoulders. Warm and heavy, the wool carrying his scent and the lingering heat of his body. He draped it carefully, and his hands stayed on her shoulders for a beat longer than necessary.
"I should have dealt with him weeks ago," he said roughly. "I should never have let him near you."
Her brow furrowed as she looked up at him. "You can't control who speaks to me at a ball, Sebastian."
"Watch me." The words were low and fierce, and his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. Then he seemed to hear himself, because his jaw tightened and he took a half step back. "Forgive me. That was—"
"Don't." She pulled the coat tighter around herself. "Don't apologize."
He looked at her then as if seeing her anew. The terrace was dark and quiet, and they were standing so very close. His coat was warm on her shoulders, but it had nothing to do with the way her skin prickled with heat, or how her stomach clenched with nervous excitement.
And the look in his eyes…
Estella’s heart leapt. The fire she saw there… That had nothing to do with obligation.
Nothing at all.