“Lady Grace.” His voice was a seductive murmur, yet loud enough for everyone nearby to hear him. “A delight to find you here today.”
“Mr. Holloway,” she managed to breathe.
He didn’t relinquish his hold of her hand. Not for many moments. And when he did, it was with visible reluctance, their hands slowly sliding apart.
It was a miracle that she remained standing.
“You’re him. Grace’s friend. She never said that you—” Her mother shot another look at Grace that indicated Grace had a considerable amount of explaining to do later.
“I’m honored that Lady Grace considers me a friend,” Sebastian said.
“We’ve been friends since Eton, Holloway and I,” Rotherby said, blessedly ignoring Grace’s mother’s reaction. “At Oxford, too.”
“Is that so?” Grace’s mother let out a little hum, a sure sign she was pleased by the fact that Sebastian was close friends with a duke.
“You’re a newcomer to the Season?” Charles asked, an edge in his voice. “I’ve never seen you before.”
Grace fought a frustrated, frazzled sigh. Her brother might enjoy badgering her, but for all that, he never lost his protectiveness where she was concerned.
“My circle of friends is a varied one, my lord.” As Sebastian spoke, his gaze never moved from her. “Perhaps our paths haven’t crossed until today, but I’m happy to remedy that.”
Charles grumbled, but he subsided when Anne shot him a Keep quiet look.
“Lady Grace,” Sebastian continued, “I look forward to deepening our friendship.”
“As do I,” she said, her voice breathless. That, at least, wasn’t feigned.
There was a brief lull, and the corners of Sebastian’s mouth tightened fractionally. She’d seen that happen before, when he had practiced talking with strangers. It was a sign of his discomfort. He struggled, internally.
What should she do? Panic over his panic clutched at her. She had to help him in some way. Perhaps she ought to take charge of the conversation. Or she could spill wine on herself and create a distraction.
Yet before she could speak or do something deliberately embarrassing, Sebastian said to her mother, “My lady, your daughter has spoken at length about your remarkable singing ability, particularly of traditional songs.”
She had? Maybe once, ages ago, but surely Sebastian didn’t remember an offhand comment about her mother singing songs as she worked on her embroidery. It was simply part of ordinary life in her household, so she hadn’t thought anything of her mother’s habit.
Clearly, however, Sebastian had been paying attention.
“My singing is hardly remarkable,” her mother said, but her cheeks went rosy.
He continued with an interested expression, “Which of those songs is your favorite?”
“That is a difficult question, Mr. Holloway. But I would have to say that I love to sing ‘The Woods So Wild.’”
“Byrd’s version or Gibbons’s?” Sebastian asked. “I do love Byrd’s interpretation.”
Grace stared at him. They’d never discussed his interest in old English music—but today was one discovery after another.
“Why, I don’t know which,” her mother confessed with an amused shake of her head. “You must call and we will sing both to see which I like better.”
Grace glanced back and forth between her mother and Sebastian. Though her mother did enjoy company, she almost never invited anyone for a visit, preferring to make calls rather than take them. Sebastian might be a newcomer to implementing charm, but he seemed to be a natural.
“It would be my pleasure,” he said easily, as though he truly did want to pay a call. “I hope Lady Grace will join us.”
Everyone looked at Grace, and every part of her flushed hotly. She’d forgotten that part of the plan was to aim attention in her direction. It was more than a little unsettling. The fact that Sebastian could move with such ease despite all the focus he drew, despite his shyness, was remarkable.
“That would be . . .” She swallowed around her self-consciousness. “I’m not much of a vocalist, but I will do my best.”