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Swiveling in her seat, Helen glanced at the wall, then sharply back at Sebastian. “Are you referring to the portrait of Lady Elaine?”
He nodded. “In many respects the resemblance is almost uncanny.” The distant clatter of the elevator coming to life made its way into the library. “I believe our guests are about to descend on us.”
Helen gave no sign that she had heard either his remark or the ancient elevator. Her attention had returned to the portrait of an elegantly gowned woman somewhere in her early thirties.
She turned to Sebastian with a frown. “Wasn’t it Lady Elaine who was an American?”
“As I recall, yes.”
She cast another considering glance at the painting. “She was quite beautiful.”
“So is Laura Calder,” he stated and added with a remembering smile. “She is also intelligent and audaciously charming.”
Her head lifted in sharpened attention as she gave him the look of a sister who well understood her older brother. “Do I detect a note of interest on a personal level?”
“You do,” Sebastian confirmed, aware of the chatter of voices that grew steadily closer.
“That’s reassuring.” Her smile showed a new ease with the situation. “Perhaps this will work satisfactorily after all.”
“You speak as if it is all but accomplished. It isn’t,” he said and paused for effect. “I have a rival.”
“Ah.” She relaxed against the chair back. “Is this the reason you were so insistent that I be present this weekend? You invited him as well, didn’t you? And you want me to keep him—shall we say—otherwise occupied?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” he admitted, eyes twinkling.
“What a devilishly clever strategy,” Helen declared with an approving smile. “Beat the opposition by never giving him an opportunity to win.”
“Desperate situations require desperate measures,” Sebastian replied on a slightly serious note as the sound of voices mingled with the footsteps in the outer hall. He raised his glass in a toasting gesture. “Wish me luck.”
In an athletically fluid motion, Helen rose from the armchair and crossed the distance between them to clink glasses. “Only good luck,” she said. “This family has already had its share of bad.”
As they took a sip of their drinks, the butler Grizwold appeared in the open doorway, paused, and made a sweeping gesture, signaling his charges to precede him into the room. Brother and sister turned as one to greet their arriving guests.
Max Rutledge was the first to roll into the library, with Tara walking beside his wheelchair. Sebastian’s glance skipped over them to Laura, elegantly stunning in a dress of raw silk that flattered her feminine curves. The only sour note was the sight of her on Boone Rutledge’s arm, laughing up at him in that seductively provocative way she had. Sebastian felt the stirrings of possessiveness. The heat of his feelings took him aback.
After the obligatory introductions were completed, Grizwold unobtrusively determined the drink preferences of the rest of the party. The entire time, Helen had difficulty taking her eyes off Laura.
“I didn’t entirely believe you, Sebastian,” she said, sliding him a quick glance. “But it is true. The resemblance is quite amazing.”
“Shortly before you joined us,” Sebastian explained to Laura, “I had remarked to my sister that your likeness to Lady Elaine was so striking that one would almost think that you are a reincarnation of her.”
“Where is the portrait?” Laura asked. “I for one am curious to see it.”
“Directly behind you, on the wall.” Taking her by the arm, Sebastian turned her toward it, effectively separating her from Boone.
Laura’s gaze went unerringly to the painting. Even she was surprised by the resemblance that went beyond merely sharing the same hair and eye color. It was like looking at her mirror image, the same high cheekbones, straight nose, cleanly angled jaw, even the same enigmatic smile curving femininely lush lips.
“It’s almost eerie,” Laura marveled.
“I never dreamt the resemblance would be so strong,” Tara declared. “It has to be more than a coincidence that Laura is virtually a replica of both Lady Crawford and Madelaine Calder. They had to be the same woman.”
“It would seem so,” Sebastian agreed, standing just behind Laura’s right shoulder. He tipped his head in her direction. “Now here you are, Laura, standing in Crawford Hall just as your ancestor may have done all those years ago. It almost makes one believe in destiny.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” she said thoughtfully, then slid a backward glance at him, a provocative gleam in her dark eyes. “Although I’m here merely as a guest, while this was Lady Elaine’s home.”
“True,” Sebastian conceded with a slight smile. “Though it does make one wonder if you aren’t meant to follow in her footsteps.”
“I’ll have to think about that,” Laura replied coyly, intrigued by the possibility yet too wise to commit herself to anything.
