She smiled. ‘Oh, I am sir, but it will be such fun to see the house come to life again. It’s been a sad place for too long.’
After she had left, Sebastian stared at the ceiling. An accusation of theft might give Amy Thompson a reason to take her own life. An unfounded accusation. Poor girl.
If he was right in his suspicions then there was a good chancethe silver saltcellars were still in the custody of the thief and he had a fair idea who the thief may be.
Never mind. It could wait until after the ball. Everything would change once the wretched ball was out of the way.
Chapter Forty-Two
Isabel raised her hand to knock on the door to Lord Somerton’s bedchamber. She could hear the low growl of Sebastian’s voice from within, interspersed with encouraging noises from both Bennet and Pierce.
As she opened the door, she beheld Sebastian standing in the middle of the carpet, looking impeccable from the carefully coiffed hair on his head to the polish on his dancing shoes. She took a deep breath and thought of the Sebastian she knew with his hair disarrayed, his neckcloth untied and those old boots. While he would turn heads and set a few hearts aflutter tonight, of the two, she infinitely preferred the latter.
He glanced at her and managed a watery smile.
‘Do I pass?’
She smiled in response. ‘You look every inch a Somerton.’
Pierce added a diamond pin to the neckcloth and stood back, a pleased smirk on his face.
‘Very fine, my lord. Don’t you agree, Mr. Bennet?’
Mr. Bennet concurred, and Isabel cast the little corporal an amused glance. Like his master, he appeared to be falling into the ways of the house with ease and dressed and emulated Pierce in every way.
‘Are you ready? Your guests are assembled,’ Isabel said.
Sebastian ran a finger around the stock.
‘I feel worse than I did before Waterloo,’ he said.
‘Mercifully, we have not invited the French infantry tonight,’ Isabel said.
He held out his arm, and she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. It had begun to feel a comfortable and natural act between them.
‘You look very lovely tonight, Isabel,’ he paused, ‘if I may make so bold.’
Warmth flooded her cheeks. She had taken a great deal of trouble with her wardrobe. Conscious she was still officially in mourning, she had dressed in a new gown of black satin trimmed with jet beads. Lucy had worked hard on her hair, twisting it into a complicated knot and enhancing it with a turban of the same black satin, trimmed with a curling black feather.
‘Thank you, my lord. I have no doubt my presence will scandalise a few of the more conservative of our neighbours.’
‘Anthony has been dead nearly a year. Time to start living again,’ Sebastian said.
She looked up at him, conscious of his gaze on her face. The brown eyes, softened by the shadows, filled her with a confidence she hadn’t felt in years. It felt as if something momentous would happen tonight.
At the head of the stairs, Sebastian hesitated, pulling back into the shadows at the sound of the gathering crowd in the brightly lit hall below. Beyond from the ballroom, came the sound of bright chatter and music. Beads of sweat dappled his brow.
‘Sebastian, it is only a ball,’ Isabel whispered. ‘Besides, you have already met many of your guests at church and the horse auction and the other night at Lady Kendall’s.’
He gave a rueful smile. ‘That was different. I was not the centre of attention. They had other diversions.’
‘So what did you do before battle to calm your nerves?’
‘Psalm 23,’ he said and closed his eyes, his lips moving as he silently recited the comforting words.
When he opened his eyes, he straightened his shoulders and, looking down the stairs, said, ‘Forward, Lady Somerton.’
Fanny, dressed in a gown of blue and silver that Isabel had not seen before, cut her way through the crowd to meet them at the foot of the stairs.
