and Sebastian knew he knew that he’d seen him, too. More to the point, about four other gentlemen had seen them see each other, and while Seb did not consider himself a coward for staying out of Newbury’s way, he was aware that others might.
He was not so deluded as to think that he did not care for the good opinion of others. He’d be damned if he was going to allow half of London to whisper that he was afraid of his uncle.
And so, since avoidance was not possible, he employed tactics of the opposite pole, and made sure his path led right to Newbury’s side.
“Uncle,” he said, pausing briefly to acknowledge him.
His uncle scowled, but he was clearly so surprised by the direct hit that he did not have time to plan a scathing retort. Instead he gave a curt nod accompanied by a grunt, since he was obviously unable to make his mouth form Sebastian’s name.
“Delightful to see you as always,” Sebastian said with a broad smile. “I had not realized you enjoyed music.” And then, before Newbury could do anything more than grind his teeth, he gave a nod of farewell and walked away.
All in all, a successful encounter. Which would be made only better once the earl realized his nephew was sitting in the Fenniwick box. Newbury was a horrible snob and would certainly be furious that Sebastian was sitting in a better location.
Which hadn’t been his intention in accepting Lady Louisa’s invitation, but really, who was he to argue with an unexpected boon?
When Sebastian reached the box, he saw that Lady Louisa and Miss Winslow had already arrived, along with the Ladies Cosgrove and Wimbledon, who, if his memory served, were sisters to the Duke of Fenniwick. Who was not present, despite his name being the one attached to the box.
Sebastian noted that Lady Louisa was flanked by both aunts. Miss Winslow, on the other hand, had
been left out to dry, seated in the front row by herself. Undoubtedly, Ladies C and W were acting to protect their charge from his insidious influence.
He smiled. All the better to influence Miss Winslow, who, he could not help but notice, looked positively delicious in her apple-green gown.
“Mr. Grey!” Lady Louisa cried out in greeting.
He bowed. “Lady Louisa, Lady Cosgrove, Lady Wimbledon.” And then, turning slightly, and smiling differently: “Miss Winslow.”
“Mr. Grey,” she said. Her cheeks went a bit pink, barely noticeable in the evening candlelight. But it was enough to make him smile inside.
Sebastian surveyed the seat selection and was instantly glad that he had chosen to come early and alone. His options were up front with Miss Winslow, the final seat in the middle next to the frowning Lady Wimbledon, or in the back, awaiting whomever else might arrive.
“I cannot allow Miss Winslow to sit by herself,” he announced, and promptly took a seat next to her.
“Mr. Grey,” she said again. “I thought your cousins were planning to attend as well.”
“They are. But it was not convenient for them to pick me up en route.” He turned in his seat to include Lady Louisa in the conversation. “As I am not precisely en route.”
“That was very kind of you not to insist upon it,” Lady Louisa said.
“Kindness had nothing to do with it,” he lied. “They would have insisted upon sending the carriage for me before they alighted, and I would have had to be ready a full hour earlier.”
Lady Louisa chuckled, and then, as if the thought had burst quite suddenly into her mind, said, “Oh! I must thank you for the book.”
“It was my pleasure,” he murmured.
“What book?” one of the aunts asked.
“I would have sent one to you, too,” he said to Miss Winslow while Lady Louisa conferred with her aunt, “but I did not know your address.”
Miss Winslow swallowed uncomfortably and said, “Er, that is quite all right. I’m sure I may read Lady Louisa’s when she is done.”
“Oh no,” Lady Louisa said, leaning forward. “I shall never lend this one out. It is signed by the author.”
“Signed by the author?” Lady Cosgrove exclaimed. “However did you find an autographed copy?”
Seb shrugged. “I stumbled upon it last year. I thought Lady Louisa might enjoy it.”
“Oh, I do,” she said earnestly. “It is truly one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever received.”
“You must allow me to see it,” Lady Wimbledon said to Lady Louisa. “Mrs. Gorely is one of my very favorite authors. Such imagination!”
Seb wondered just how many signed Gorely books he might believably have stumbled upon. Clearly this was a better gift than anything else he could afford. He decided he’d better lay the foundation for his story now:
“I found a complete autographed set at a bookshop last autumn,” he said, rather pleased with his inventiveness. He now had three more opportunities for autographed gifts. Who knew when they might come in handy?
“I really cannot ask you to break up the set,” Lady Louisa murmured,clearly hoping that he would tell her it was no bother.
“It’s no bother,” he assured her. “It is the least I can do in exchange for such a wonderful seat for the opera.” He took this opportunity to engage Miss Winslow in the conversation. “You are very fortunate to sit here for your first opera.”
“I am looking forward to it,” she said.
“Enough so that you don’t mind sitting next to me?” he said in a low voice.
He saw her try not to smile. “Indeed.”
“I am told I am quite charming,” he told her.
“Are you?”
“Charming?”
“No.” She tried again not to smile. “Told that you are so.”
“Ah. Occasionally. Not by my family, of course.”
This time she did smile. Sebastian was absurdly pleased.
“Naturally, I live to pester them,” he said.
She laughed. “You must not be the eldest child.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because we hate pestering.”
“Oh we do?”
She blinked with surprise. “Youare the oldest?”
“Only, I’m afraid. Such a disappointment for my parents.”
“Ah, well, that explains it.”
A parry he could not resist. “Pray tell.”
She turned to him, clearly engaged in the conversation. Her expression was perhaps a touch supercilious, but he found he liked a crafty look in her eye.
“Well,” she said, officiously enough so that if he hadn’t known she was the eldest child before, he would have been certain of it now. “As an only child you would have grown up bereft of company, and thus never have learned how to properly interact with your peers.”
“I did go to school,” he said mildly.
She waved this off. “Nevertheless.”
