Estella took a deep breath to fortify herself. "If you are so concerned about what gossips will say about Lord Alderton’s attentions, does that mean you no longer approve of him as a marriage prospect?"
His hand clenched at his side. "He's a good match. He'll treat you well."
"Yes, you’ve mentioned that before."
"Because it's true."
"And yet here you are." She tilted her chin up. "Standing between me and the man who might very well be my husband one day."
His gaze dropped to her mouth. It lasted no more than a second before his eyes snapped back up, but she caught it, and her pulse hammered.
She edged in even closer. He was so tall and broad, she had to tip her head back to maintain eye contact. "Is that what you want, then?" she taunted. "To watch me marry Lord Alderton? To be his wife, and keep his home, and raise his family?—"
A low growl escaped him, seemingly against his will.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Estella." His voice was rough as he dipped his head so only she could hear.
"I'm not playing anything." She held his gaze and let him see…everything. The certainty, the challenge, the want. "I'm just watching. The way the duchess taught me." She softened her voice. "Trust a man's actions over his words, she said. So that's what I'm doing. I'm trusting your actions."
Something cracked in his expression. The careful blankness fractured, and underneath was a hunger so fierce it stole her breath. His hand came up and his fingers hovered near her jaw. An inch of air between his skin and hers, and yet it burned.
"Estella," he breathed. "You don't know what you're saying."
She tilted her head back further. "I'm only telling you what I see."
His fingers were so close she could feel the warmth of them along her cheek. He searched her face, and she watched the war play out—duty against desire, guilt against need.
For one moment, the desire was winning. His head dipped. His breath ghosted across her lips?—
Then the sky exploded.
Light burst above the tree line. White and gold, then a shower of crimson sparks that turned the Gardens into daylight for a heartbeat. The crowd erupted in gasps and applause, and Sebastian jerked back as though the fireworks had detonated between them.
The spell broke. His hand dropped to his side and curled into a fist.
Estella's knees were unreliable. Her heart was hammering so hard she could feel it in her fingertips. But she didn't look away from him.
"We should rejoin the others," he said.
"Of course." Her voice was steadier than she felt.
They walked back toward the supper box in silence. The sky above them continued to erupt with light that fell like rain through the elms. At the box, the duchess looked up. Her gaze moved from Sebastian's rigid posture to Estella's flushed cheeks, and her eyes held a hint of satisfaction.
Thea was there too, but she was too fixated on the fireworks to pay Estella and Sebastian any attention. Sebastian took up his usual position—against the wall, where he could watch without participating. But his gaze followed Estella and didn't stop.
Across the box, Lord Alderton caught her gaze and raised his glass. Just slightly. A toast between conspirators.
She lifted hers in return.
The fireworks blazed overhead, painting the Gardens in fire and light. She could still feel the ghost of Sebastian's breath on her lips. Could still see his hand reaching for her in the lamplight.
She thought of Thea's words. The result will speak for itself.
It had. The experiment was conclusive. And now she just needed him to stop being noble and brave and self-sacrificing long enough to admit it.
20
Sebastian had a plan for the evening. It consisted entirely of standing against a wall in the ballroom, watching the party, and under no circumstances whatsoever engaging in conversation with Estella Hale.
