Page 30 of The Duke’s Defiant Love

"I have heard Dr. Wetherby speak before. He is competent enough on the constitutional structure, though I find his treatment of the ostracism procedure regrettably thin."

"I have read the same complaint in one of his critics' reviews, and thought it rather unfair, given the limited surviving evidence on the subject."

"Then we are destined to disagree again before the lecture has even begun, which I confess does not surprise me in the slightest." He glanced toward her father, offering a proper bow. "Honourable Dr. Hartwell. A pleasure."

"Your Grace." Her father's tone carried a careful neutrality that gave away nothing of what he thought of the encounter, though Amelia caught the faint, assessing look he gave Sebastian before returning his attention to the program in his hands.

Sebastian took the seat beside her that happened to be empty, and if either of them noted how naturally that had occurred, neither remarked on it, though Amelia was rather too aware of his presence beside her for the whole of the lecture's rather dry opening remarks.

"You disagree with me already," he murmured, low enough that only she could hear, as Dr. Wetherby began his opening survey of the Athenian assembly. "I can see it in your expression."

"I have not yet said a word."

"You did not need to. You have a particular way of narrowing your eyes when you believe a speaker has made an error, which I have now observed on three separate occasions and find increasingly difficult to ignore."

Amelia turned her head slowly to look at him.

"You have observed me on three separate occasions?"

"Your expressions are difficult not to notice."

"Are they?"

"Yours are."

The answer was so immediate, so matter of fact, that Amelia felt warmth creep into her cheeks.

She turned her attention back to the podium before he could see it.

"Then perhaps you ought to attend to the lecture rather than my expression, Your Grace, and allow us both to form our objections properly before comparing notes."

"A fair point," he conceded. He faced forward, and for several minutes Amelia managed to convince herself that the matter had ended there.

Then, without looking at her, he murmured, "Though I confess, I find your expression far more interesting."

Her eyes widened.

She glanced at him, but he was watching Dr. Wetherby with an air of such perfect composure that she wondered whether she had imagined the remark.

The lecture ran the better part of two hours, precisely as her father had predicted. Amelia found herself thoroughly absorbed despite the hard bench and the room's close, overheated air, occasionally exchanging a glance with Sebastian at some thin argument or overreaching claim, the shared amusement passing between them without either needing to voice it aloud. When the formal address concluded and the floor opened for questions, discussion breaking out in scattered clusters throughout the hall, she rose to stretch and, in doing so, dropped her handkerchief without noticing.

"Miss Hartwell." Sebastian bent to retrieve it before she'd fully noticed its absence, and when he held it out to her, his fingers brushed hers briefly, the exchange entirely unremarkable to anyone watching, and yet Amelia felt the whole of her attention narrow to that single point of contact with an intensity that startled her.

"Thank you," she managed, tucking the handkerchief away.

"You are welcome." Something in his voice suggested he had felt precisely the same small jolt she had, though neither of them acknowledged it further, both retreating instead into the safety of easy banter, as they always seemed to when the moment threatened to become something neither was prepared to name outright.

"So, how many faults did you find with Dr. Wetherby’s lecture? You looked as though you were preparing to object to every other word."

"Four, as it happens, though I am willing to discuss only three of them in mixed company." His mouth curved, and whatever careful distance either of them had been maintaining eased, by degrees, into something, remarkably natural. It was a comfort Amelia had not found with anyone else all Season.

"Gentlemen." Sebastian found Tristan, Nathaniel, and Julian clustered near the hall's entrance as the crowd began its slow dispersal, and something in him, some impulse he did not trouble to think about too much, made him turn toward Amelia rather than away from her before the introduction could be avoided. "May I present Miss Amelia Hartwell. Miss Hartwell, my particular friends. Tristan Cavendish, Duke of Ashcombe. Nathaniel Ashcroft, Duke of Kingsleigh. Julian Hawthorne, Duke of Dunhaven."

"Miss Hartwell." Tristan bowed with his usual easy charm, his smile carrying the easy familiarity of their conversation at the Ashworth ball. "A pleasure to see you again. I confess we have all heard a great deal about you, though I begin to suspect the accounts have rather understated the matter."

"I hope they have understated it favorably, Your Grace, though I have my doubts, given the source."

Tristan laughed outright, delighted. "And here I had thought our last conversation at Ashaven had prepared me for you."