Any musicale Verity hosted, Sebastian always sang.
His voice was his greatest asset, making him one of the Crown’s top spies. Whether he was reading aloud, singing, or holding a conversation, he could enchant any listener and force them to submit to his will.
Sebastian, the Seducer.
Sebastian, the Charmer.
Sebastian, the Poet.
His nicknames had been extensive and joked about by other spies for the Crown. When they mocked him and sought to mimic his deep voice, Sebastian had taken all the gentle jibbing in stride.
He did not allow the weak jokes to unsettle him. He had more going on beneath his exterior, but he never allowed any one of his comrades to draw close enough to examine his deepest fears, regrets, and concerns.
He was more than a man whose words could get a lady’s gown dropping to the floor in an instant. He was more than a charmer who could out-talk a politician and change his views by the time the discussion ended.
He was far, far more than all of that.
But, for now, he was who he needed to be to survive, even if that meant accepting that he had done things in the name of his career of which he was not proud.
After Percy met Verity and fell in love with her, he became determined to convince Sebastian that love, true love, was out there and could surmount all else. Percy swore to Sebastian that, in time, the right lady would understand his past. She would help him create a future he loved as well as help keep him in the present.
Sebastian had listened closely to Percy’s words. He tried to see sense in those long, emotional speeches. But if he was reallybeing honest with himself and his friend, Sebastian still did not know what a life beyond serving the Crown looked like.
Theton’sflow bored him, and the Crown’s missions kept his life constantly moving. How could he ever give that up? He had witnessed how much better Percy’s life now was, free from danger, more relaxed, especially with his wife at his side, but Sebastian could not be relaxed.
Sebastianhadto stay moving.
He had to keep outrunning everything.
Only, he was letting himself be pinned to the spot by those sky-blue eyes that kept gazing at him as though they held secrets.
Sebastian liked secrets. He recalled vividly the words Lady Phoebe had shared with him that night, when nothing but a few wooden slats separated them from one another. He had thrilled at the way she had agreed to tell him more, so long as he led her in the right direction.
He sipped his wine slowly and wondered what other deep desires hid beneath Lady Phoebe’s shy exterior.
Chapter Nine
“Your mother mentioned how you went to the Duchess of Whitestone’s musicale the other night,” Lord Birchwood said, “so bringing you to see an opera seemed the most reasonable thing to do next, don’t you think?”
His bushy eyebrows scrunched as though he was waiting for her to contradict him.
When she did not reply, the Marquess shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“You must surely be happy, Lady Phoebe.”
Sitting next to Lord Birchwood, Phoebe felt like she was shrinking.
His hand rested firmly on her forearm, all but pinning her to theatre seat she sat in, staring down at the expanse of thetonbelow them, filling up the rows of London’s most acclaimedopera house. The stage, in comparison, was shrouded in darkness, and would be for another few minutes.
“I am,” she answered distractedly.
She was not truly engaged, particularly in his presence, despite her passion for the arts and theatre. The circumstances were unsuitable for attending an opera, especially with Lord Birchwood, whose understanding of music lacked both technical and aesthetic depth.
This man is nothing but an oaf. One that tells me one lie after another.
She glanced sidelong at her companion who had slackened his hold on her just a bit so that he might adjust the lapels of his jacket.
He preens and primps, hoping that someone, anyone, will look up here and see us sitting together.
