Which surely must mean it was not her.
Not his Venetia. Sebastian’s Venetia would have thrown her arms wide in joy and tumbled into his embrace the moment she recognized him. Sebastian’s Venetia would have been scouring the world to find him.
Not turning her back on him.
Yet, as he frowned across the room, trying to make out this hitherto invisible creature, hidden by pot plants and various well-dressed personages, and not least by that hideous lace cap upon her head, he was filled with doubt.
“Please. One more song." He couldn’t let her go. Not without knowing, conclusively. And perhaps she’d not even noticed him. If it were his Venetia.
Sebastian's request drew smiles from everyone, but when Miss Reeves bent her head to obviously suggest a piece, he added, almost desperately, "With due respect, Lady Indigo, please allow me to be the judge of whether your companion’s voice is as…lacking in tune as you suggest? I think another opinion is only fair."
He heard their audible gasps; and, yes, he’d had a little too much to drink, perhaps. He knew it was one thing for an old lady to publicly deride the lowly creature who worked for her but quite another for a gentleman of the ton to make fun of the situation, too.
Right now, Sebastian didn’t care what anyone thought. There was no way he was going to let the lowly companion disappear through that doorway. Not when, suddenly, a great deal was at stake.
Riveted, he watched the young woman under scrutiny slowly return, as Lady Fenton settled herself at the keyboard. The girl’s reluctance was apparent; the embarrassment of his hosts was palpable.
And the gathering excitement in Sebastian’s breast was unstoppable.
Even though their songstress kept her head averted as her voice rose above the tinkling notes, certainty and expectation powered through him.
He wasn’t quite sure how he managed to restrain himself sufficiently to remark, not entirely steadily, either, "Certainly, you are right, Lady Indigo, in that the young lady’s talents lie with her playing.” In truth, he had no idea what he was saying, other than it couldn’t have been complimentary as he met the reproving glances of everyone in the room.
"Hmph, well, I think Venetia didn't deserve that," grumbled Lady Indigo, nodding at her companion. "And I'm sorry for what I said, but I'm sure you've had enough of small talk, Venetia. Please will you go and see that the warming iron in my bed is the right temperature."
Obediently the girl rose, but as she did not glance in Sebastian’s direction, he was again frustrated by doubt.
Until one covert glance across the swarm of bodies sealed everything.
And Sebastian had to grip the back of his chair as his vision coalesced into a kaleidoscope of red and black, saying in as unaffected a tone as he could manage, “Perhaps Miss Reeves would entertain us with another piece. And Lady Fenton might be prevailed upon to continue her excellent work at the pianoforte.”
Miss Reeves blushed prettily. She was very good at that, he observed. Her grace and timing were consummate, for she hesitated a perfect moment before conceding with just the right show of shyness and reluctance.
Not that Sebastian cared how prettily she blushed or sang or did anything for that matter. He just needed to be strategic. Nor could he bolt out of the room and after her like the overenthusiastic schoolboy he felt.
“I shall be back by the time you decide what you shall sing,” he added, bowing at the ladies before making for the door, his movements leisurely before he hastened his stride. His departure would be mistaken for the call of nature. He’d been in the house a good few hours and knew his way about.
But he must hurry. The blood was pounding loudly in his ears, and an excitement more heady and exhilarating than he’d felt in his whole life was powering through him.
Quickly, he traversed the passageway, stopping on the threshold of the long gallery. The guest wing was along the passage that led from the far end of this area. Lady Indigo’s bedroom would be one of these. Surely she hadn’t scuttled away as quickly as to give him no chance to catch up.
Surely…
As he stopped to survey the shadows ahead of him, the pounding of his heartbeat was now deafening.
Yet all was silent in the cavernous room with its high ceiling and book-lined walls.
Taking a cautious step forward, he scanned the immediate vicinity. Lord, when last had his palms felt clammy and his neck linen too tight?
He knew the answer to this only too well. It was why he was here; why he was so agitated.
And then he saw her, glancing up at a painting about halfway down the room, to the left, and almost shrouded by a large bust on a plinth.
Without a second thought, Sebastian set his footsteps in her direction, covering the distance in quick time, snatching at her wrist to swing her around so that with a stumble she was in the circle of his arms; and as she tilted her head up with a gasp, he was able to claim her mouth, her soft, sweet lips melting beneath his.
Before she truncated the ecstasy that roared through his body, by giving him a sharp push.
He stumbled back against the window, hurt and confusion warring within him.