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Sebastian

Waiting was interminable.

Especially because Tiffany had either done him the disservice—or the favor, he was not sure which it was—of seating him between Lady Astrid and Lady Juliette. Mei was seated between Gregory and the elder Mr. Fenley. He could see Tiffany’s thinking—he was safely tucked away between two ladies who were not going to turn his head, they would not even try, while Mei was beside one man who would sing Sebastian’s praises and another who made him look very good by comparison.

Unlike the younger Mr. Fenley, the elder brother was rather dull by comparison. Sebastian had not heard him speak very much, and what little he did say was about himself, his very great desire to travel to Africa, and his horse. None of the ladies seemed particularly eager to speak with him, especially as he did not bother to ask them anything about themselves. He was lacking in the charm his younger brother and sister carried quite naturally.

But eventually the meal was over, and the part of the evening Sebastian had been waiting for was here. The dancing.

He did not make a beeline for Mei.

Instead, he asked Lady Isabella to dance first. She smiled happily at him and said yes. Northumberland was not at all put out—likely he was waiting to ask Lady Isabella to dance at the same opportunity Sebastian was waiting for with Mei. Which meant he danced with Lady Juliette and his sister as well before he finally heard the opening notes for a waltz.

The look of horror on Mei’s face when she realized he was approaching her, and what dance it was for, might have deterred a lesser man. Sebastian knew her facial expressions now, though. He could see the shock and the horror but also the flash of delight in her eyes. The yearning as she realized what she wanted her answer to be.

She pressed her lips together as he bowed in front of her and held out his hand.

“I do not have permission,” she hissed at him.

“We are in the country.”

He took her hand and pulled her into his arms.

Unsurprisingly, she fit perfectly, graceful as she automatically lifted one hand to meet his and stepped back as he moved forward. She knew how to waltz, even if she’d never done so in any of London’s ballrooms. If she had said she did not know how, that would have been one thing, but she’d specifically said she did not have permission.

He looked down at her as he spun her in a tight circle around the room, feeling her skirts brush against his legs. The waltz could become downright indecent if one wanted to, with how closely the couple held each other, but he forced himself to remain at the proper position. After all, they did have an audience.

Currently, that worked to his advantage because Mei would not want to be rude in front of the assembled guests. The rules of Society carried an abundance of restraints on one’s behavior, but in this instance, it helped Sebastian rather than hurt him. Now that she was on the dance floor with him, she would have to remain there until the dance was over or risk all the questions about why she had left him so abruptly. Even so, questions were rising in more than one person’s eyes as they glanced at him and Mei, doing their best to observe without outright staring.

Well, except the younger Mr. Fenley, who did not yet have the social graces to keep from staring. Sebastian certainly did not mind, though—the young pup should understand that he was severely outmatched when it came to bidding for Mei’s attention.

“What are you doing?” The question was asked in an odd tone—not angry, the way he’d almost expected, but something closer to fearful. Maybe hopeful.

Sebastian looked down at the woman in his arms. The woman he’d fallen in love with. The only woman he would now accept as his duchess.

“I am showing you that you need not fear Society,” he replied softly, though clearly enough to be heard over the music. “They do not matter. What matters is here, between us.”

“You would not say that if all of Society were to turn their backs on you.”

“Actually, I think I would be perfectly fine, but I do not think you would be happy,” he replied. “However, that is not something you need to worry yourself over. Look around.”

He lifted his head, looking as well, and spinning them in a slower revolution so she could take a look at every part of the room. At every person who was looking at them.

Mei

Despite her fear of what she would see, Mei made herself look around, just as Sebastian told her to. The many faces of the assembled guests, all watching her and Sebastian waltz, even if they were pretending not to.

In fact, the only person not watching her and Sebastian was Rose; she was watching the Duke of Montagu dance with Lady MarcyAnne with pursed lips. But the others…

There was no hiding it now. No secret glances, no hidden exchanges. They were out in the open, in the middle of a waltz, with nowhere to hide. And everyone was looking at them. Measuring their nearness. None of them was so uncouth as to let their reactions show on their faces, but they were watching, and their thoughts were turning loudly enough that it was a wonder anyone could hear the music.

Mei desperately wanted to run and hide and never come out again, but that was no longer an option.

“You are going to ruin my reputation,” she murmured.

“To have a duke begging at your feet?” Sebastian snorted. “Hardly. You know well enough how the ton works. I could get down on one knee and propose to you, and if you rejected me, that would only increase your standing within the ton. The matchmaker who refused a duke.”

“I have already done that.” Even if part of her did regret it immediately after, it was as though she could not help but lash out, to stab him even if it was only a pinprick of pain, to try to drive him away from her. To make him stop being so very… him.