Chapter 16

The evening sunlight slanted through the long windows of the upper hallway as Sebastian hurried downstairs. He grinned to himself. In a few hours, after sunset, which happened earlier each day as Autumn progressed, the ball would begin.

He walked down the stairs, the sound of his boots loud in the silent hall. It felt as though he'd been working in an empty house all day—his father was visiting a neighboring estate, and Eleanor was flitting all over the house, from the kitchen to the hallway to the garden to the laundry, personally supervising each element of preparing for the ball.

He smiled to himself. In the week she'd had to organize, she had gone about it with such fervor that one could imagine she was overseeing a small army. She had planned the food that would be served at the refreshments table, and the drinks, and how many footmen they might need to attend to the guests. She had checked they had enough pitch torches to light the drive and dispatched the gardener off to the village to employ some youths to hold them to light the guests back to their coaches. She had even organized with the groom and the gardener to make sure the coaches and horses would be accommodated on the grounds for as long as the guests might need them to be.

He walked lightly across the entrance-way to the ballroom, hearing the butler and the housekeeper hurrying from the ballroom to the rest of the house.

As soon as he got there, he heard Eleanor's voice, low and soft, instructing the maids who were mopping the vast marble floor.

He waited, watching her showing them what she wanted. She was always so friendly with the servants, and they adored her. He grinned, watching her graceful movements as she walked lightly about the room. She was beautiful. His cheeks warmed as he watched. He thought often of the night she had spent sleeping by his side. He had ached to turn around and kiss her, but he had not wanted to scare her. She was unused to such things, and he would not touch her without her enthusiastic consent. He had already promised himself that.

He waited at the edge of the ballroom, watching her. He wondered when she would notice him. She walked lightly across to where some male servants were setting out some chairs—maybe they were the musicians, since he could swear that he'd never seen them before. As he watched her talking, she looked up. She saw him and blushed.

"Eleanor," he greeted, wandering across to where she stood.

"Sebastian!" she grinned, tucking some honey-brown hair out of her eyes. She was flushed and her eyes sparkled, and Sebastian felt longing for her. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, and he remembered her well from breakfast that morning. "Did you want to have some tea?" she asked him.

"Mayhap we should have some tea," he agreed. The ball would start at seven o' clock, which made things difficult in terms of dinner. "Then we should remain fortified for most of the ball."

"There are plenty of nice things to eat during the evening." She grinned at him.

"What kind of nice things?" Sebastian asked playfully. He couldn't help some anticipation welling up in him. He wanted to see what Eleanor had contrived for the evening—it would surely be different to any other ball he'd attended.

"Well," she paused, counting on her fingers. "First of all, there are tartlets—sweet ones, and savoury ones. Your aunt insisted on that. I thought we could have sausages, and the cook said we should have some cold game meat. I wasn't sure about that, but she has been organising these things for a long time."

"Mm." Sebastian nodded. He grinned. She had clearly consulted with everyone she thought might know, and he admired that. It was something he probably wouldn't have done.

"I will come and join you for tea in a moment," she said, looking around the ballroom. "I must first tell the musicians where they can set up their chairs and music-stands."

"Of course, my lady." Sebastian bowed low. "I will await you in the drawing room."

"Good." She smiled at him playfully and he wandered out of the ballroom, heading slowly upstairs.

The drawing room was already half-lit, the sunset orange on the horizon as he walked in slowly. It was peaceful up there, the fire still burning in the grate, and he wandered to the window. Matthew was, of course, invited to the ball, and he had said he'd arrive a little early. Sebastian looked out of the window, his stomach knotting with a mix of anticipation and nerves.

Just yesterday, he had ridden to London himself, an undertaking that had required him to rise extremely early and return long after nightfall—to fetch a gift he'd ordered. He had requested the butler to take it to Eleanor's room when she retired to dress for the night, but he had no idea if she would like it. He had not the slightest idea of the gown she would wear—the seamstress had been summoned the same day that Father had suggested the ball, so he knew Eleanor had ordered a new gown, but what it looked like he had not the faintest idea. He was curious, but he hadn't dared ask. Besides, it made one more thing to anticipate that evening.

"Glenfield!" A voice startled him, and he jumped.

"Matthew. You startled me," he accused, grinning the moment his friend wandered in. Matthew was already fully dressed, his pale brown hair combed and looking surprisingly elegant. He wore a gray velvet jacket and long pale-colored trousers. His cravat was elaborate as always.

"Good evening, old chap," Matthew greeted. "I mentioned I'd drop in early. Hope I am not bothering you?"

"No, not at all," Sebastian answered. "I'll have tea with her ladyship in a moment—we thought to take repast before the ball, or we'll starve for the whole night."

"Wise, Glenfield. Most wise." Matthew grinned. "I had dinner before riding over. I'm well stocked with victuals. I shall let you two sit down to tea."

"Thank you," Sebastian said simply. He would have felt obliged to ask Matthew to join them, and he was rather glad he didn't have to. He was looking forward to teatime with Eleanor. He smiled to himself. Every second he had to talk with her was a joy. He didn't want to share that time with anyone—even Papa was not entirely welcome to share their meetings over tea or meals.

"No trouble, old chap. I say! It's surprisingly warm this evening."

"It is," Sebastian agreed. His thoughts wandered to his planned outfit for the evening, and he felt his stomach twist nervously. It was the first time he had ever doubted his own taste when it came to dressing. He had always led fashions in his circle, and it was strange that now he doubted his ability to choose something Eleanor would like.

"I'll wander off. I notice the grounds are a bit altered."

"Yes." Sebastian tried not to smile. "Lady Glenfield is fond of flowers."

"Oh? I say!" Matthew smiled. "I am certain the grounds will be stocked with blooms from top to bottom soon."

Sebastian blinked, trying to think of something to say, and Matthew wandered off, calling out to him lightly.

"Have a pleasant evening! I will see you in two hours' time."

"You too," Sebastian called, flustered.

He wandered to the drawing-room, lost in thought. Matthew had clearly been teasing him about the grounds being full of flowers. A thought collided with his brain suddenly—was he doting on Eleanor? And, if so—as it certainly seemed—then was it because he had fallen for her?

He smiled, a small, delighted expression lifting his lips in the corners. He certainly had, and it was no bad thing.

He was humming to himself as he settled down at tea.

"Sebastian!" Eleanor's voice startled him out of his reverie. "There you are. Is it late?"

Her long, pale brown hair had come loose from the severe bun she'd scraped it into while she worked. She wore a white gown with a small pattern in yellow that he suspected was quite old—the hem was a little worn in places.

"No. It's only just gone half-past five," he commented lightly. The clock on the mantel was still just visible, though the room was going dark fast. The butler would come in soon to light the lamps.

"Good. Good," she sighed.

Sebastian smiled at her as she settled down at the table. She was frowning, her brow wrinkled, her mouth a firm line.

"It will all be most successful," Sebastian told her gently.

"You think so?" She turned to him with her eyes huge.

"Of course, it will," Sebastian said softly. He smiled to himself. She took charge when Papa was ill, and she organized the staff and oversaw gardening with no trouble. Now, when organizing a ball, her supreme confidence suddenly became shaky. He felt his heart fill with tenderness. She was always so strong. It felt good to be able to be the one to comfort her, just once.

"You really think so?" she whispered softly.

"I am certain."

She stared up at him and Sebastian stared back. In the darkness of the drawing room, her skin was pale and her eyes wide. She was very close, and he could smell the scent of her, and he longed in that moment to kiss her. As he leaned forward, trying to think of some way to ask if he might kiss her, the butler wheeled the trolley inside.

"My lord. My lady," the butler greeted them, hesitant in the doorway. "Should I return with the tea later...?"

"Bring it in," Sebastian said a little irritably. He leaned back, watching as the butler wheeled the trolley over to the table, then unpacked the tea-things swiftly and went about lighting the lamps. The lamplight was bright and warm and shimmered on Eleanor's hair.

Sebastian poured himself tea, fighting the urge to lean over and press his lips to her cheek. The soft skin of her face was like satin in the lamplight, and he focused on the table and the food and drink, not wanting to give in to his longing.

"I can barely eat, I'm so nervous," she admitted with a small giggle.

"Try," Sebastian said gently. "Though I am sure we will have much to choose from at the ball as well."

"It should be a fair spread of things," she murmured tensely.

Sebastian smiled at her, but she was focused on her plate, selecting a sandwich and a small tartlet, trying to eat something before they went to prepare.

Sebastian ate two or three of the small, delicate sandwiches, though he barely even noticed what he did. His thoughts were focused on Eleanor. She sipped her tea swiftly and pushed back her chair.

"I will go and prepare now, I think," she murmured.

"Of course," Sebastian agreed. "I'll follow in a moment or two. I haven't so much preparation to do."

Eleanor giggled. "Of course," she replied.

Sebastian smiled and sat in the drawing room as she hurried off. He leaned back, his senses still reeling from his longing for her. He breathed in, trying to calm himself. He felt his lips lift in a smile. He had, at least, been able to comfort her. For the last few weeks, he had felt a little useless—all he seemed to have to offer was a place for her to sleep. Now, at least, she had talked to him, confided in him. That was a relief.

He pushed back his chair, ready to go down to his own room to get dressed. He smiled to himself. He had attended a hundred balls, he was sure, but he had not had this sweet knot of anticipation in his stomach before. This was entirely different, and he was looking forward to seeing what Eleanor and the seamstress had planned for her to wear. Perhaps she would be able to use his gift, if it matched her dress. It was going to be a very pleasant evening.