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My mother is saying good night to her when Sebastian comes to stand beside me. Blaire thanks Eleanor for dinner, says something to my father about the collection, then glances in my direction before she turns toward the corridor. I watch her go. Sebastian waits until she disappears from view.

“You’re subtle,” he says.

I look at him. “Mind your own business.”

“I am. You’re standing in front of it.”

I give him a flat look. Sebastian smiles into his drink. There’s no edge to it, no jealousy, only the familiar amusement of someone who has known me too long.

“You’ve spent half the evening pretending you weren’t watching her,” he says.

“I wasn’t pretending anything.”

“No,” Sebastian replies.

“That would require effort.”

I shake my head and reach for my glass. He lets the subject drop, which I appreciate more than I show. A minute later, I notice the empty doorway again.

I wait long enough to make the decision look accidental. Then I set down my drink and leave the room.

The corridor outside is quiet, but I catch sight of Blaire near the turn toward the library wing, her bag over one shoulder as she walks toward the guest corridor.

“Blaire.”

She turns.

“You’re still here,” she says.

“So are you.”

Her mouth curves faintly. “I’m leaving.”

“I noticed.”

She studies me for a second, and I realize I have no legitimate reason to have followed her.

“Did you need something?” she asks.

“No.”

That makes her smile.

I step closer, but not enough to turn the moment into something it isn’t.

“I wanted to say good night,” I tell her.

“You already did.”

“I know.”

Her eyes stay on mine. For a few seconds, neither of us moves. Then Blaire adjusts the strap on her bag.

“Good night, Ross.”

“Good night, Blaire.”

She turns and continues down the corridor. I stay where I am until she disappears around the corner. When I look back toward the drawing room, Sebastian is standing in the doorway with one shoulder against the frame. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.