It wasn’t as though they were strangers. He knew her. But not well, and not comfortably. Their acquaintance was built on shared wreckage. Her sister had died in the same fire that killed Andrew and scarred Sebastian—in the house Sebastian had owned, at the party Sebastian had hosted.
By rights, she should hate him. He'd spent two years bracing for that hatred, waiting for the blow.
It had never come. And somehow that made it even worse. If anything, her manner toward him in the rare instances their paths crossed was one of careful assessment, as though she were trying to determine what sort of man he was.
Hatred he could have endured. Being studied was another matter entirely.
She raised her glass to him. A slight tilt, barely perceptible.
Then she turned to the nearest footman, murmured something, and returned to her conversation as though nothing had happened.
Sebastian did not have to wait long. The footman materialized at his elbow moments later. "My lord. Her Grace, the Duchess of Ashworth, requests a moment of your time. She is in the blue sitting room on the first floor."
Sebastian glanced over. Sure enough, she’d left her acquaintances, and was, he reasoned—waiting for him.
Sebastian set his glass on the nearest surface. He cast one last glance toward the dance floor. Estella was turning through the figures with Fairchild's hand at her waist, her face bright with laughter.
He followed the footman upstairs. The blue sitting room was small and quiet, removed from the noise below. The duchess stood by the window with her champagne, her posture as composed as if she were receiving callers in her own home. The footman withdrew and closed the door.
"Lord Blackwood." Her voice was cool and gave nothing away. "Thank you for obliging me."
"Your Grace." He inclined his head. "I confess I'm uncertain what I'm obliging."
"Directness. Good. I was hoping you'd be the sort who preferred to skip the pleasantries." She met his gaze evenly. "I'll be direct then. You've been managing the Hale family's affairs for some time now. The debts, the household…" She arched a brow. "Those unfortunate suitors who never quite made it to courtship."
Sebastian's expression didn't change. "I'm sure I don't know?—"
"Oh, but you do," the duchess said. "And so do I. Your intermediaries are competent, my lord, but I have been watching the Hale family for my own reasons, and your fingerprints are not as invisible as you believe."
Silence. Because he had no idea what to say to that.
But…her own reasons? He filed that away. He also took note that even if she knew of his meddling, she hadn’t told anyone. Or, at least, not Estella.
It was a temporary relief, but wariness coiled in his gut.
"What do you want?" His voice came out flat. Rude, probably. He didn't care.
The duchess studied him for a long moment. Her eyes were dark and sharp. "The same thing you want," she said. "To keep Miss Hale safe. But your current methods, effective as they've been, are not sufficient for a London Season."
He tried to hold still, but that blasted left hand twitched. He wanted to argue. There was nothing he couldn’t and wouldn’t do to keep Estella safe. But one look out at the dance floor and the way she was smiling up at that cad Fairchild was a solid argument to the contrary.
It was with discomfort that he finally said, "I'm aware."
"Are you? Because I watched a fortune hunter introduce himself without so much as a mutual acquaintance."
His nostrils flared. "Fairchild will be dealt with."
"I'm sure he will. You'll have a quiet word, and the man will disappear, and Miss Hale will add him to her growing list of admirers who inexplicably vanished." The duchess’s tone was merciless and impatient. "And then the next one will appear. And the one after that."
The duchess set her glass down with a loud clink. "You cannot swat them away one by one from the shadows forever, Lord Blackwood. Not here. London is not a country village where one man's influence can clear the field."
She was right. He knew she was right. He'd known it for months.
"What are you proposing?" he asked.
"An alliance." She moved to the settee and sat, gesturing for him to take the chair opposite. He remained standing. "I intend to take Miss Hale under my wing for the remainder of the Season. House her if her father's arrangements prove insufficient. Chaperone her. Guide her. Ensure she is seen with the right people and shielded from the wrong ones."
His eyes narrowed. "Why would you do that?"
