She didn’t have to force a laugh. It came naturally, and her smile was genuine when she tipped her face up to respond.
She felt a great deal more at ease knowing she wasn't leading Alderton on. He was a willing partner in this venture, and his amusement was genuine. She was simply allowing herself to be bright and easy and warm in the company of a man who appreciated it.
She let Alderton guide her toward the orchestra and paused to admire the music. She accepted his arm for the walk back toward the supper boxes, and she didn't once look in Sebastian's direction.
That was the hardest part, actually. Not looking. Every instinct screamed at her to check, to see if it was working, to gauge his reaction. But she’d give herself away if he caught her looking.
So she kept her eyes on Alderton, and she touched his arm when she made a point. She was having a fine time with it—until a shadow fell between them.
A voice she knew well said, "Miss Hale. The duchess requires your presence."
Sebastian stood at her elbow. He'd appeared with his usual alarming silence, and he was not looking at Alderton. He was looking at her, and his expression might have been carved from granite were it not for the muscle jumping in his jaw.
Estella glanced toward the supper box. The duchess was deep in conversation, her back turned, showing no sign whatsoever of requiring anyone.
"Does she?" Estella said mildly.
Sebastian's gaze flickered, just barely, toward the supper box. A beat of silence. "She mentioned it earlier."
She smiled. "How thoughtful of you to pass along the message."
Beside her, Alderton cleared his throat. "I'll leave you to it, Miss Hale." Alderton's voice was admirably steady, though when Estella glanced at him, the corner of his mouth was twitching. He bowed to her, inclined his head to Sebastian with what she could only describe as extremely polite amusement, and withdrew.
She watched Alderton go, and then turned to Sebastian. They stood at the edge of the Grand Walk, half in lamplight and half in shadow. The music from the orchestra swelled, something sweet and slow.
"The duchess isn't asking for me," she said.
"No."
The admission was so blunt it startled her. She'd expected the pretense to last at least another thirty seconds. But Sebastian was staring at the path where Alderton had disappeared, and his jaw was set so tight the scar tissue pulled white. "You seemed very comfortable with Lord Alderton this evening."
She lifted a shoulder. "He's comfortable company. I enjoy spending time with him."
All true, she was happy to note. No lies required.
"Yes." His gaze was still fixed on the path where Alderton disappeared. "I noticed."
She waited. She could feel the charge building between them. She'd spent weeks being confused by this man, uncertain of every signal, second-guessing every glance.
Oddly, in this particular moment, she realized—she wasn't confused anymore.
The duchess's voice rang in her memory. Trust your eyes. Her eyes were telling her that Sebastian Vane was not a man unmoved. His left hand was at his side, flexing with the familiar spasm. His breathing was measured with the deliberate control of someone working very hard to appear calm. And his eyes, when they finally cut back to hers, were dark with something that had nothing whatsoever to do with duty.
She peered closer. "Are you jealous, Lord Blackwood?"
His nostrils flared. "Don't be absurd."
"Because if your interest in my evening is indeed purely fraternal—" She took a step toward him. "I can't imagine why Lord Alderton's company should trouble you."
His throat worked. "I'm not troubled."
"You just told me the duchess needed me, and she quite clearly doesn't." Another step. She was close enough to smell that warm scent of his. "You followed us all evening and then used a pretense to interrupt our conversation."
His glare fixed on her. "Any more time together and tongues would be wagging."
"Ah, so you were worried about my reputation." She didn’t try to hide her disbelief, and he didn’t bother with an answer.
They were standing too close now. The music drifted over them, and the lamplight turned the world to gold—and Estella understood with perfect clarity why Vauxhall had a reputation.
