Shouldn’t. But she did.
“Where’s Fredericks?”
Sebastian’s question sounded almost indifferent—but a faint edge cut through his words.
“Inside, I imagine. I needed to take refuge from him.”
“Was he disrespectful to you?” The bite in his tone made it clear that if Mason had taken liberties, Sebastian would happily make him suffer.
“He was in all ways an exemplary gentleman,” she said quickly. “Only . . . he was there and my mother was there, and I desired a moment to myself.”
A pause. “I should take my leave of you.”
“Don’t.” To her own ears, her words were a plea. Only then did she realize that she still had her hands spread on his chest.
She dropped her hands and took a step back, putting needed distance between them. A handsome man, a shadowed balcony . . . It was all too easy to fall into the realm of fantasy, but those fantasies had no room in her reality.
“The night’s a success, then?” His voice sounded a trifle rough, as if he pushed words out from his throat, but that was most likely the result of being in an overheated ballroom.
“Thanks to you, a roaring success,” she said with far more cheer than she felt. Because her head was hopelessly muddled, and she had no answers for any of the questions that ricocheted through her. “You needn’t stay. If there’s somewhere else you’d rather be . . .”
After a moment, he said, “There’s a small village on the northern outskirts of London. The wanders that I go on from time to time? When I was in the middle of one, I learned about this place. Once a year, the village celebrates the springtime with customs that date back hundreds of years. As if the celebration has been trapped in amber and forever preserved. But I’ve never been to the place itself, not in all the years I have known of it.”
“Is it soon, this festival?” It comforted her to speak to him about his work, as if they could, somehow, return to the simpler time when they were merely friends. Before she’d gone and ruined things by having feelings for him.
“Tonight, in fact. I intend to go there after the ball. To observe the festivities.”
“Ah.” Of course his life would continue on without her in it. She was grateful that the ball hadn’t been too taxing for him. “It sounds like a wonderful adventure.”
A pause. And then, “Come with me.”
She went still with shock. He couldn’t have said that—could he? “Go with you to the village?”
“Why not? We used to go on excursions together, before all of this.” He gestured to his evening finery. “It will be like old times. Two friends having their own adventure.” His smile flashed in the darkness, and a pulse of responsiveness moved through her body.
“I . . .” She ought to say no, return to the ball, and spend the rest of the evening by her mother’s side. Ought to, but didn’t want to. She’d played the dutiful daughter, encouraging the right man to pay her attention. She wanted something entirely for herself.
And it would be so nice, so much less complicated, if she and Sebastian could go back to their original roles as friends. Well—she could pretend to feel only amity toward him, instead of this thorny desire.
She asked, “How do we get there?”
His grin was brilliant—she loved seeing this unexpectedly impulsive side of him. “We’ll require a carriage.”
“That can be arranged.” Her pulse hammered. She could hardly believe she was doing this. It felt wild and reckless and magnificent yet brought her back to those simpler times that now seemed so long ago.
“Make your excuses to depart on your own. Then wait for me at the north side of Hanover Square.” He rubbed his hands together. “This will be a lark. You’ll see.”
His excited enthusiasm was contagious, and offered relief from the constraints of the ball, and decorum, and all things proper. She stepped away from him and without his warmth, cool night air surrounded her. Moving into the light, she chanced a look behind her, yet the shadows were so complete at that corner of the balcony that anyone passing by would never have observed her with Sebastian.