The tight band across his chest eased when she laughed at something Lord Owen said. Seb could not hear that lovely chortle, but from where he stood on the balcony's upper story, he clearly saw the radiance of her smile.
His shoulders relaxed, and for the first time since that evening, he was able to take his attention from her and direct it toward another lady. Lady Edith held court with her coterie on the sidelines, her fan unfurled, and the lady sweeping it gently back and forth. She hadn’t danced for the evening, and not for lack of being asked. A few times she stared directly at him, and Sebastian sensed she waited for him to come and ask her. The seductive lure was there whenever her gaze caught his, yet he was not compelled to rush to her side and request her hand for the dancefloor.
It seemed the lady herself had decided he would be her husband. He felt nothing but mild amusement and perhaps a bit of admiration at Lady Edith’s certainty. Seb did admire a lady who knew what she wanted and went for it because he owned similar traits. Lady Edith had made it to the very top of his list of candidates for his duchess, for the lady was exemplary in her reputation, connections and qualities. And he recalled her being a lively conversationalist who hadn’t believed her topics of discourse should be limited.
A flash of green caught Seb’s attention, a mass of honey gold hair piled high, a string of pearls lovingly clasped around a most delicate throat. The lady’s gown clung enticingly to her curves and revealed a delectable swell of her cleavage. She met with several ladies by a large potted plant, and he idly wondered if they were other members of her club.
The lady tipped back her head and laughed, arching the delicate line of her throat.Bloody hell. Theodosia Winfern imbued sensuality and such charm that something raw and unfathomable stirred low in Seb’s gut. He imagined setting the tip of his tongue to her lush mouth, then going down to gently nibble the flesh of her throat, right where her pulse would be fluttering. He could taste the soft dewiness of her skin, hear the soft, breathless whimper she would make as he continued licking his way downward. Seb’s heart pounded, and he found himself gripping the railing of the balustrade.
Perdie, who strolled in Lady Winfern’s direction, stopped as if she’d slammed into a wall. Her face crumpled, and she whirled away, hurrying in the opposite direction. Lady Winfern evidently had upheld her end of the bargain. Though he had suspected her of having done so. For Perdie had not attempted to bribe the coachman to sneak her away in the past few days but had spent her time accepting callers with his mother, practicing her music on the grand pianoforte, and taking long strolls with Lord Owen.
Oddly, no satisfaction filled Seb. Confoundingly, it had much to do with the flash of a pained grimace on Lady Winfern’s lovely face, that lingering shadow of hurt and loss. She stared after his sister with such aching regret, somewhere in the vicinity of his heart squeezed.
There had been a friendship there, and his command had hurt that bond, possibly broken it irrevocably because the once cheerful demeanor his sister bravely showed these last few days was also a façade. She was not happy, and once again, he had missed it. His sister said something to his mother, who held her own court by the ballroom's south side. Their mother nodded, and Perdie exited the ballroom.
What was going on?
Sebastian made his way down the staircase and through the crush to his sister. Once in the hallway, he spied her walking deeper into the household.
“Perdie,” he said.
Despite the loud chatter and music, his sister whirled to face him, and a rush of worry went through him. There was a strain about her mouth as if she was hurt and was doing everything in her power not to crumble.
“Are you well?” he asked upon reaching her.
She rubbed at her temple. “I fear I have a megrim. Mamma suggested I call for the carriage and head home to bed, but I prefer to rest within the library or the parlor.”
“Would you like my silent company?” Though he wished to converse with her, the strain around her mouth suggested the head pain was unpleasant.
“No, brother, believe me when I say some time alone is what I need. I might rejoin the party after an hour or so of rest. It is very early yet, and there is much more dancing to do.”
He removed a small watch from his pocket and glanced at the time. It was merely ten p.m. “I will no longer withdraw to my club. I’ll stay…perhaps even do a spot of dancing, and whenever you need me, send a servant for me.”
Her eyes lit up. “You? Dancing? I will be saddened to miss such a spectacle.”
“You are so convinced I am going to fumble?” he teased, chucking her slightly under her chin.
She wrinkled her nose. “I spoke of thedelightful spectacle of everyone’s reaction. I’ve heard more than one lady just tonight refer to you as a prime article, how much they would swoon to have a mere glance from you,andhow very fortunate Lady Edith is to own your regard.”
“You exaggerate, but it has reminded me it would be best if I withdraw to the card room.”
“I did see Lord Wolverton escaping there earlier.”
Seb escorted her to a small inviting parlor that had a fire lit in the hearth. Perdie walked away from him to seat herself on the sofa closest to the fire. A relieved sigh slipped from her when she eased back into the padded cushions. “Please let Mama know that I shall be fine resting here for a few hours.”
“I will.” Sebastian headed from the parlor only to pause at the whisper of his name. Turning to face Perdie, he replied, “Yes?”
She stared at him for a moment, an indecipherable look in her eyes. A rush of worry went through Sebastian. “Is all well, Perdie?”
“I love you,” she said with a soft smile.
“I love you too, poppet.” Then he opened the door and walked out into the hall, unsure why a heavy press of disquiet lingered in his heart.
* * *
The ball hostedby Lady Prudence Campbell, the Countess of Wycliffe, was a successful crush. Her face carried a happy glow, and Theo squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Your ball is perfectly splendid.”
“I cannot believe so many people came,” she breathed happily, her dark green eyes glittering with triumph. “My very first ball is a success. I am so very glad I accepted your dare, Theo, and you owe me fifty pounds which I will be donating to my beloved charity!”