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In Bed with a Rogue

Page 21

He nodded in encouragement for her to say what was on her mind.

“Anthony and I were also planning to attend. We don’t receive many invitations, and I…” Her gray eyes shimmered and she blinked away tears.

He had known when she eloped with the earl her reputation would suffer, but he didn’t wish her ill. His smile was tight, even though he would like to put everything behind them. “It seems like the perfect opportunity to show the gossips there are no hard feelings between us, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Not even with Anthony?” She looked so hopeful he couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

“The evening will not end in fisticuffs. I can promise you that much.”

“Thank you, Sebastian. Considering everything that transpired, that is gentlemanly of you.” A sweet smile eased across her pretty face, reminding him of the reason he’d thought she might be the one for him. “Anthony misses your friendship. Maybe someday…”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

He and Ellis had a long way to go before Sebastian would call the earl a friend again, if they ever reached that point. Still, he had other matters claiming his attention, and fighting over something he couldn’t change would do him no good. It wasn’t until he left Keaton Place that he realized he wouldn’t change the past even if it were possible.

Six

Helena was ready to crawl out of her skin by the time she arrived at Olive’s annual ball. She had turned over every possibility in her head, and she had gained nothing but a throbbing at her temples. How could Lavinia be so close and yet completely out of Helena’s reach?

Earlier that morning Fergus had returned after a night of prowling the East End with both good and bad news about her sister. One of the girls at a George Street brothel had been more than willing to talk once Fergus handed over a fat purse. She said Lavinia had worked there a short time, but she’d been traded to a fashionable brothel that catered to gentlemen of means. The girl hadn’t known which one, not that Helena would have allowed that to deter her. She was willing to search every one until she found her sister.

It was the gentlemen only rule that presented an obstacle.

“Gentlemen,” she grumbled under her breath as she approached the ballroom entrance. She hardly considered any man who frequented a brothel a gentleman, but that was neither here nor there. She needed a man of good breeding and prestige, one who knew how to keep a secret. And she wasn’t convinced such a creature existed.

Blast! Perhaps she should forgo the ball and return to the town house until she solved this problem. There had to be a way to gain access to Lavinia. Surely the brothels received deliveries, but could Fergus slip away unnoticed to question the women about her sister? It was far-fetched, but pursuing outlandish ideas had almost become commonplace for her.

As one of the footmen turned to ask her name, a thought occurred to her. Perhaps Olive’s husband knew a thing or two about visiting brothels. Her face heated. Approaching Lord Eldridge about the subject would require more gall than Helena had. Nevertheless, the idea was better than anything else she’d come up with today.

She spotted Olive several steps inside the ballroom engaged in conversation with the Dowager Duchess of Foxhaven and a young woman with ebony curls and exotic eyes. When the footman announced Helena’s arrival, Olive looked up with a welcoming smile. She gestured to her to join them.

Perhaps Helena could cut the night short if she first spent a little time chatting with Olive and her friends. She didn’t want to insult her husband’s cousin, but she was in no state of mind to enjoy a ball.

“Helena, how lovely to see you.” Olive grasped her hands and pecked her cheek. “Allow me to make introductions. You have met the duchess, and this is her daughter, Lady Ellis.”

The lady who had jilted Lord Thorne was stunningly beautiful. A pang of envy seized Helena, but she quickly banished the unwelcome sentiment. She couldn’t care less about Sebastian Thorne or whom he found to his liking. At least that was what she’d been telling herself all afternoon. Seven days in a row, he had come to her door requesting an audience, and he had been turned away each time. Today, however, they had seen neither hide nor hair of him. She hated to admit she had been disappointed.

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