Chapter 21
Estella was quite certain she had never been this happy in her life.
I think about you. Every minute of every day.
The words played through her mind on a loop, warm and precious. She pressed her fingers to her lips as if she could feel the shape of them there. He'd said it with that rough voice of his, as though the confession had been pulled from him against his will.
Which…she supposed it had. She’d all but forced him to dance with her and then had put him on the spot. Had she been reckless and foolish? Yes. But it had paid off.
"I take it the experiment was conclusive?" Thea appeared at her elbow, one eyebrow raised.
"Quite," Estella managed. She couldn't stop smiling. It was becoming a problem because her cheeks were starting to ache.
"You're glowing," Thea observed. "It's conspicuous."
"I don't care."
"That much is evident." But Thea's expression softened into a smile of her own. "What happened?"
Estella pulled her to the edge of the room, away from the nearest cluster of guests.
"He told me. Not everything, but—he said he thinks about me.
And Thea, his face when he said it…" She pressed a hand to her chest, where her heart was leaping for joy.
"He's going to meet me in the garden after the supper dance. We're going to talk."
"And what will you say?"
"I'm going to tell him I know. About his feelings, I mean. And I'm going to tell him that I don't care about guilt or obligation, and that I—" She stopped and drew in a breath. "I want him, Thea. I want him."
Thea studied her for a moment. "You're certain?"
She nodded. "More certain than I've ever been about anything."
"Good." Thea gave a short nod in return. "Then go tell him."
Easier said than done. She still had forty-five minutes before they were supposed to meet. How was she supposed to survive forty-five minutes?
Estella turned back to the ballroom. The music had started again, and couples were forming on the floor. She spotted Sebastian across the room, back in his usual position against the wall. Even from this distance, she could see the tension in his shoulders.
She wondered if he was regretting his words.
Probably.
Well, too bad. He’d admitted it now. And while it wasn’t a confession, so to speak, it might as well have been.
There was no denying he had feelings for her any longer. Now she just had to stay the course. Remind him that she was already onto him so there was no point in fighting it.
She rolled her shoulders back. Did most young ladies have to fight with their beaus until they admitted defeat? Likely not. But luckily for Sebastian, Estella had never backed down from a challenge.
She watched him greet a baron, then exchange pleasantries with the man’s wife.
Estella felt an unexpected surge of tenderness so fierce it shocked her.
This difficult, impossible, wonderful man who could not stop protecting people even when it meant sacrificing his own happiness.
She was going to marry him. The thought arrived with calm certainty. She was going to walk into that garden and tell him the truth, and he was going to resist, because that was what Sebastian did. But she was done allowing him to decide their future alone.
The next quarter of an hour passed in a warm blur. She made conversation with the duchess's acquaintances. She accepted a glass of champagne and sipped it slowly. She felt buoyant, lit from within, and at least two people commented that she looked particularly well this evening.
She was standing near the edge of the ballroom, taking it all in, when she noticed a young woman hovering near the entrance. The lady was pretty in a pale blue gown. Pretty, and…visibly anxious.
The woman wasn't socializing. She was searching. Turning her head this way and that, rising slightly on her toes, scanning the crowd with an urgency that tugged at Estella's chest.
The poor girl looked worried.
Estella knew what it looked like to be alone at a ball, searching for a familiar face. So she crossed the room.
"Are you looking for someone?" She smiled brightly at the petite brunette. "Perhaps I can help."
The woman turned to her with relief so visible it confirmed every one of Estella's instincts. She was near Estella's age, with chestnut hair and a pleasant, open face. "Yes. Thank you. I'm looking for Lord Blackwood. I was told he'd be attending this evening."
Estella's smile held steady. Half of London knew Lord Blackwood attended these events. It wasn't unusual for someone to seek him out. "I know Lord Blackwood well." She offered a small curtsy. "I'm Miss Hale."
"Oh!" The woman's face brightened with genuine warmth. "How lovely. I'm Lady Clarissa Whitfield." She said the name with a slight hesitation, as though testing whether it might mean something.
It didn't.
"Welcome to London, Lady Clarissa. Have you been in town long?"
"Only a few days." Clarissa's smile was sweet but edged with something Estella recognized. Nerves. "I confess I don't know a soul. I didn’t want to tell my brother I was coming, you see— Oh, but no, of course you wouldn’t understand. It’s only that it’s a secret, really, but… My chaperone is here, but she’s, well…
Navigating these events alone is rather…
" She trailed off for a second time with a self-conscious laugh.
"Terrifying?" Estella offered.
"Yes, exactly," Clarissa breathed.
Estella liked her. Clarissa had none of Fairchild's polished ease. Her warmth was genuine, slightly awkward, and entirely without artifice.
"Let me help you find Lord Blackwood," Estella said. "I saw him earlier by the far wall."
"Oh, you’ve seen him." Clarissa’s smile fell. "Good. That is good."
Estella had the feeling it was not good, though what wasn’t good was difficult to say. Did she want to see Lord Blackwood or avoid him?
She tilted her head to the side. "Do you know the marquess well?"
Clarissa shook her head with another nervous little laugh. "Oh no. But I need to speak with him, you see…"
When she didn’t continue, Estella nodded. Ah, so that was it. She had some business with Sebastian, but she’d heard the rumors about him. "He’s not at all as intimidating as he’s made out to be."
Clarissa’s brows arched in surprise. "No? That’s a relief. I did hear he could be…reserved."
Estella stifled a laugh. "That is a diplomatic way of putting it."
They shared a little laugh and then Estella linked arms with the young lady and led her through the crowd.
Estella noticed her new friend growing more nervous as they went. "I promise he won’t bite."
This startled a laugh out of Clarissa, and Estella continued. "He’s a dear friend to me and my family, and you have my word, he’s a true gentleman."
"I'm so glad he has friends here," Clarissa said. "His mother has been worried about him." A pause, and her tone grew tentative. "I confess I'm rather nervous to meet him. I’ve never even seen him, and… Well, it's all been arranged through our mothers."
Estella's step didn't falter, but her stomach lurched. "Arranged?"
"Oh—" Clarissa colored, a flush rising from her neck to her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't presume it's common knowledge. It's only that our families have formed an understanding." She said the next words carefully. "About an engagement."
The party continued around them, and not one guest seemed to notice that the floor beneath Estella's feet had just opened into a chasm.
I think about you. Every minute of every day.
No. She must have misheard.
"An engagement," Estella repeated. Her voice sounded strange. Distant. As though someone else were speaking from very far away.
"I know it’s rather unusual, getting engaged to a man one has never met. But his mother assured me that Lord Blackwood. Or rather, Sebastian— That is, my mother seemed certain—"
Sebastian.
Clarissa kept talking. Her way of speaking was awkward to begin with, full of half starts and incomplete thoughts. But Estella couldn’t have made sense of her words even if she’d been truly eloquent.
Estella had stopped hearing much of anything after “Sebastian.”
She’d called him Sebastian. Because of course she did. Because…she was to be his wife.
"And I likely shouldn’t have come here tonight. But you see, I must speak to him— I’d rather not, truth be told. I wish there was some other way, but…"
The words tumbled over and over, but in her mind it was Sebastian’s voice that Estella heard.
Mutually beneficial. The words from the terrace came rushing back. I have an understanding with another woman.
He'd told her. Sebastian had told her at the very beginning.
He'd been honest on the terrace, brutally honest, and she hadn't believed him because she hadn't wanted to believe him.
Because the duchess had said trust your eyes, and Thea had said the result speaks for itself, and her own treacherous heart had said he loves you, he must love you, because you love him, and—
And she'd been wrong.
About everything. She'd built a fairytale castle out of wishes and dreams.
He'd told her the truth from the start. His interest in her was born out of guilt and obligation. And she'd constructed an elaborate alternative theory because the truth was too painful to bear.
Clarissa was still talking but the words reached Estella through a fog.
"Are you all right, Miss Hale?" Clarissa touched her arm. "You've gone quite pale."
"I'm fine." The lie came out smoothly. The mask of competence she'd been wearing since she was seventeen slid into place with practiced ease. "Forgive me, it's rather warm in here."
"It is, isn't it?" Clarissa looked relieved to have a simple explanation.
Estella's mind was spinning, but her body knew what to do. It had been trained for this. She smiled at Clarissa and said something pleasant about welcoming her to London. She even offered to make introductions.
"That's so generous of you." Clarissa's eyes shone. "Truly, Miss Hale."