Sebastian's gaze met hers, and she saw the faintest glint. Not quite humor. But an invitation to share the joke, offered so briefly that if she'd blinked she'd have missed it.
It was the sort of moment one shared with a close friend. A meeting of minds, as it were. And just then, quite inexplicably, her heart gave a solid whomp in her chest. Her limbs grew heavy and her breath hitched, and?—
What was this?
Her breath caught at the suddenness of her reaction. It was purely physical, and it meant nothing. Likely just the warmth of this music room getting to her. Or perhaps a delayed reaction to Lord Alderton’s kind attentions.
Yes, that was it. Her reaction to Alderton was just delayed. Very, very delayed.
She took a very deliberate sip of her lemonade as the two men spoke of the music, the weather, and so on.
Fortunately, neither made much of an attempt to solicit her thoughts on these matters, because…goodness, she was so exhausted by the weather. To be clear, not the weather itself, which was lovely. It was the incessant talking about the weather that made her want to take a nap.
The next performance began and Sebastian returned to his seat. Estella was grateful that the next performance was marginally better than the first.
After that, there was an intermission, during which the guests mingled. Lord Alderton excused himself to speak with an acquaintance, and Estella found herself near the refreshment table beside Sebastian.
He glanced over at her, his expression grim as ever, and equally unreadable. "You're enjoying Lord Alderton's company."
It was not a question. His voice was perfectly neutral, but she found herself tensing defensively all the same. She chose her words carefully. "He is very pleasant."
"He is."
A silence. She waited for more.
More did not come.
"Is that all?" she asked. "No assessment of his character? No inventory of his flaws? You've been remarkably thorough with every other gentleman who's so much as glanced my way."
By this, she meant he’d been abominably picky. Which she was grateful for, of course. That was the whole point of Sebastian and the duchess stepping in to help her find a match.
They were supposed to be thoughtful and particular.
But during one brief and moderately ridiculous conversation the other morning, she’d sat in the duchess’s study as the two of them listed out pros and cons of every potential candidate.
Like some sort of lively debate that had nothing to do with her, Estella had listened to the duchess remark on their finer points before Sebastian would cut them down for their weaknesses. Too old. Too lecherous. Too much of a drinker. And one that seemed rather ungenerous, Too bald.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. "Alderton is a good man."
Her brows rose. "High praise, coming from you."
"Not praise. Merely an observation." He picked up a glass from the table. "He would make you a fine husband."
The words should have pleased her. They were, after all, exactly what she wanted to hear from her self-appointed guardian. But they landed with a dull, heavy thud.
She suddenly and foolishly had the overwhelming urge to cry. Not a little sniffle. She had an urge to sweep up her skirts, bury her face in a pillow, and weep.
She was tired. Clearly. She always got weepy when she didn’t sleep enough.
Sebastian’s brows came down. "Is there something wrong?"
His voice was more gruff than usual. Which was really saying something. She shook her head, not quite able to meet his eyes. "Nothing is wrong."
"Then do you agree with my assessment?" he asked.
She met his gaze, and then instantly wished she hadn’t. His stare was intense at the best of times. He had that way of looking at her like he was seeing right inside of her. But right now, it wasn’t so much searching her for answers as it was…challenging her.
She had the feeling that this was a test, but she not only didn’t know the answer, she didn’t even understand the question. It was irritating, and she clung to that simmering anger. "Does it matter if I agree?"
