Sebastian noted that Lady Louisa was flanked by both aunts. Miss Winslow, on the other hand, had
been left out to dry, seated in the front row by herself. Undoubtedly, Ladies C and W were acting to protect their charge from his insidious influence.
He smiled. All the better to influence Miss Winslow, who, he could not help but notice, looked positively delicious in her apple-green gown.
“Mr. Grey!” Lady Louisa cried out in greeting.
He bowed. “Lady Louisa, Lady Cosgrove, Lady Wimbledon.” And then, turning slightly, and smiling differently: “Miss Winslow.”
“Mr. Grey,” she said. Her cheeks went a bit pink, barely noticeable in the evening candlelight. But it was enough to make him smile inside.
Sebastian surveyed the seat selection and was instantly glad that he had chosen to come early and alone. His options were up front with Miss Winslow, the final seat in the middle next to the frowning Lady Wimbledon, or in the back, awaiting whomever else might arrive.
“I cannot allow Miss Winslow to sit by herself,” he announced, and promptly took a seat next to her.
“Mr. Grey,” she said again. “I thought your cousins were planning to attend as well.”
“They are. But it was not convenient for them to pick me up en route.” He turned in his seat to include Lady Louisa in the conversation. “As I am not precisely en route.”
“That was very kind of you not to insist upon it,” Lady Louisa said.
“Kindness had nothing to do with it,” he lied. “They would have insisted upon sending the carriage for me before they alighted, and I would have had to be ready a full hour earlier.”
Lady Louisa chuckled, and then, as if the thought had burst quite suddenly into her mind, said, “Oh! I must thank you for the book.”
“It was my pleasure,” he murmured.
“What book?” one of the aunts asked.
“I would have sent one to you, too,” he said to Miss Winslow while Lady Louisa conferred with her aunt, “but I did not know your address.”
Miss Winslow swallowed uncomfortably and said, “Er, that is quite all right. I’m sure I may read Lady Louisa’s when she is done.”
“Oh no,” Lady Louisa said, leaning forward. “I shall never lend this one out. It is signed by the author.”
“Signed by the author?” Lady Cosgrove exclaimed. “However did you find an autographed copy?”
Seb shrugged. “I stumbled upon it last year. I thought Lady Louisa might enjoy it.”
“Oh, I do,” she said earnestly. “It is truly one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever received.”
“You must allow me to see it,” Lady Wimbledon said to Lady Louisa. “Mrs. Gorely is one of my very favorite authors. Such imagination!”
Seb wondered just how many signed Gorely books he might believably have stumbled upon. Clearly this was a better gift than anything else he could afford. He decided he’d better lay the foundation for his story now:
“I found a complete autographed set at a bookshop last autumn,” he said, rather pleased with his inventiveness. He now had three more opportunities for autographed gifts. Who knew when they might come in handy?
“I really cannot ask you to break up the set,” Lady Louisa murmured,clearly hoping that he would tell her it was no bother.
“It’s no bother,” he assured her. “It is the least I can do in exchange for such a wonderful seat for the opera.” He took this opportunity to engage Miss Winslow in the conversation. “You are very fortunate to sit here for your first opera.”
“I am looking forward to it,” she said.
“Enough so that you don’t mind sitting next to me?” he said in a low voice.
He saw her try not to smile. “Indeed.”
“I am told I am quite charming,” he told her.
“Are you?”
“Charming?”
“No.” She tried again not to smile. “Told that you are so.”
“Ah. Occasionally. Not by my family, of course.”
This time she did smile. Sebastian was absurdly pleased.
“Naturally, I live to pester them,” he said.
She laughed. “You must not be the eldest child.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because we hate pestering.”
“Oh we do?”
She blinked with surprise. “Youare the oldest?”
“Only, I’m afraid. Such a disappointment for my parents.”
“Ah, well, that explains it.”
A parry he could not resist. “Pray tell.”
She turned to him, clearly engaged in the conversation. Her expression was perhaps a touch supercilious, but he found he liked a crafty look in her eye.
“Well,” she said, officiously enough so that if he hadn’t known she was the eldest child before, he would have been certain of it now. “As an only child you would have grown up bereft of company, and thus never have learned how to properly interact with your peers.”
“I did go to school,” he said mildly.
She waved this off. “Nevertheless.”
He waited a moment, and then echoed, “Nevertheless?”
She blinked.
“Surely there is more to your argument.”
She thought about that for a moment. “No.”
He waited a moment again, and this time she added, “Need there be?”
“Apparently not, if you are the eldest child and large enough to beat your siblings to a pulp.”
Her eyes widened, and then she burst out laughing, a lovely, throaty sound that wasn’t musical in the least. She did not laugh delicately, Miss Winslow.
He loved it.
“I beat no one who did not deserve it,” she told him, once she’d regained her composure.
He felt himself chuckling along with her. “But Miss Winslow,” he said, affecting an earnest expression, “we have only just met. How can I trust your judgment in such a matter?”
She gave him a wicked grin. “You can’t.”
Sebastian’s heart lurched dangerously. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the corner of her mouth, that little spot where her skin dimpled and turned up. She had wonderful lips, full and pink, and he rather thought he’d like to kiss them again, now that he’d had a chance to see her by the light of day. He wondered if it would feel different, having a perfectly colored portrait of her in his mind as he kissed her.
He wondered if it would feel different, knowing her name.
He tilted his head, as if the motion might bring her into sharper focus. It did, somehow, and he realized that yes, it would feel different.
Better.
He was saved from having to ponder the meaning of this by the appearance of his cousins. Harry and
Olivia arrived with pink cheeks and slightly mussed hair, and after greetings were exchanged all around, the not-quite-newlyweds took seats in the back row.
Sebastian settled happily into his seat. It wasn’t as if he was alone with Miss Winslow; there were six others in the box, not to mention hundreds below in the opera house, but they were alone in their row, and for now, it felt like enough.
He turned to look at her. She was peering out over the edge of the box, her eyes alight with excitement. Sebastian tried to remember the last time he’d felt such anticipation. He’d been in London since his return from the war, and this—the parties, the operas, the liaisons—had all become routine. He enjoyed it all, of course, but he did not think he could say that there was anything he trulyanticipated .
She turned, then. Looked at him and smiled.
Until now.
Chapter Ten
Annabel’s breath caught as the lights of the Royal Opera House dimmed. She’d been looking forward to this night since she’d arrived in town, could hardly wait to relate all the details in a long missive to her sisters back home. But now, as the curtains lifted to reveal a strangely barren set, she realized that she didn’t just want this performance to be breathtaking, sheneeded it.