He frowned. "Of course it does. Your feelings and opinions are all that matter."
He said it so seriously, some of her irritation floated away. She couldn’t hold onto it when he was being so sincere.
He shifted, moving in close enough that she could smell that delicious scent that was so particular to him. "Ella, if you don’t like the man?—"
"I do." It came out too sudden. But really. Did he have to go and call her Ella at a time like this? Estella she could handle. Miss Hale would be even more preferable. But the old nickname made her chest ache.
She looked away. She was being foolish. And so irrational. It truly wasn’t like her. Perhaps she was falling ill. She lifted a hand to her forehead without thinking.
"Are you not feeling well?" He set his glass down with a loud thud. Suddenly he was so close, she could feel the heat from his body as he towered over her.
She had to tilt her head back to see his face, and the concern there made her lungs hitch.
Yes, she must be ill. That was the only explanation.
But she shook her head. "I’m fine."
He was searching her face. The more he looked, the more that heat inside her spread, from her belly to her chest, and up into her neck and cheeks.
Her mind felt addled. It was that scent of his. It was at once comforting and disconcerting. So warm and lovely, she wanted to lean into him. But also so…male. Could a scent be male?
Yes. Yes, it could.
"Let’s get you some fresh air." His hand gripped her elbow.
The touch did nothing to help her muddled thoughts. It reminded her of when she’d bumped into him at the ball. His grip was the same now as it was then. So firm and strong, but holding her so carefully as though she might break.
One of his hands came to her lower back as he guided her through the crowd and out into the hallway. He might have kept leading her out the front door, but she stopped short. "I’m all right, Sebastian. Really."
It was true. Just being away from that crowded room had helped her come to her senses. She took a step away from him, and that too helped to clear her head. "I’m sorry, I?—"
"Do not apologize."
She clamped her mouth shut. His tone had left little room for argument. And yet, she didn’t feel like he was angry with her. Just concerned. Maybe…protective.
Her heart did a little tumble again. Goodness. What was wrong with her?
Sebastian took a step backward. "I’m sorry if I upset you. I know marriage is a serious matter, and your wishes are what matter most."
She nodded. It was a lovely thing to say, and she ought to keep quiet and be grateful that she had such a considerate patron looking out for her.
But that irritation was back, and it made her feel childish and reckless. Worse, it made her want to lash out. "So if I wished to marry Lord Alderton." She looked up and met his gaze. "You would approve?"
Her voice was mild enough, but she felt herself prodding, looking for a fight.
His expression stayed steady. The tick of a muscle in his jaw was the only sign that he might not be truly at ease. "I did not say that. I merely said he is a good man and would make a fine husband."
His steady calm made her own emotions rise to the surface. She couldn’t even say why his words irritated her so.
He arched his brows. "Am I wrong?"
"No, it’s only— You sound as though you're writing a reference." She lowered her voice in a silly imitation of his. "Lord Alderton. Adequate in all respects. Would make a fine husband. Suitable for general use."
His jaw tightened. Was that— Had his lips twitched? "That is not what I said."
"It's what you meant." She was being bold. Bolder than she'd ever been with him. But the musicale had put her in a strange mood, and she suddenly found she was tired of being managed.
"What I meant"—his voice dropped even lower—"is that Alderton will treat you well. He'll respect your intelligence. He won't try to diminish you." A pause. "Those qualities are rarer than you might think. And they are what you need in a husband."
