Her lips throbbed; she looked at his, long, lean . . . and remembered, too clearly, what they’d felt like against hers.
The tension between them drew tight, quivered, then his lips curved. He turned her from the floor, glancing about them once more.
Helena barely had time to draw breath before another lady—this one black-haired and black-eyed—swept up.
“Good evening, St. Ives.”
Sebastian nodded. “Therese.”
The lady was in her early thirties, striking rather than beautiful, and dressed to take advantage of her unusual looks. As Augusta had, she stretched up and kissed Sebastian’s cheek. “Do introduce me.”
Helena sensed rather than heard Sebastian’s sigh.
“Mademoiselle la comtesse d’Lisle—Lady Osbaldestone.”
Her ladyship curtsied prettily; Helena curtsied back, conscious of her ladyship’s sharp black gaze.
“Therese is a cousin of sorts,” Sebastian added.
“A distant connection I take shameless advantage of,” Lady Osbaldestone corrected, speaking directly to Helena. “Which is why, having heard that St. Ives’s latest start was to introduce a comtesse into society, I had, of course, to meet you.” She slanted a glance at Sebastian; Helena couldn’t interpret the look in her black eyes. “So interesting.”
Looking back at Helena, Lady Osbaldestone smiled. “One never knows what Sebastian will be at next, but—”
“Therese.”
The softly spoken word held enough menace to halt the flow of Lady Osbaldestone’s not-quite-artless discourse. She grimaced and turned to him. “Spoilsport. But you can hardly expect me to be blind.”
“More’s the pity.”
“Anyway”—much of her ladyship’s sharpness evaporated—“I wanted to thank you for your help in that small matter of mine.”
“It’s been settled satisfactorily, I take it?”
“Eminently satisfactorily, thank you.”
“And would I be correct in assuming Osbaldestone remains in blissful ignorance?”
“Don’t be daft, of course he doesn’t know. He’s a man. He’d never understand.”
Sebastian’s brows rose. “Indeed? And I am . . . ?”
“St. Ives,” her ladyship promptly retorted. “You’re unshockable.”
A faint smile curled Sebastian’s lips. Lady Osbaldestone turned to Helena. “The mind boggles at the number of ladies’ secrets he keeps.”
Helena’s mind boggled at the fact they trusted him with such secrets at all. The notion of any lady willingly trusting Fabien was beyond ludicrous.
She chatted with Lady Osbaldestone, who had recently visited Paris. It transpired they had acqu
aintances in common; despite her sharp tongue, her ladyship was both interesting and entertaining. Helena enjoyed the short interlude but was conscious that Sebastian was alert, his blue eyes beneath their heavy lids fixed on her ladyship.
Lady Osbaldestone proved equally aware; she eventually turned to him. “All right, all right, I’m going. But I take leave to tell you you’re becoming transparent.”
She bobbed a curtsy to him, bowed to Helena, then swept away.
Helena glanced at Sebastian as he retook her hand. Did she dare ask what about him was becoming transparent? “She seems very well informed.”
“Unfortunately. I don’t know why I bear with her—she’s the most enervatingly astute woman I know.”