Weeks earlier he would have obliged her, but he could barely spare her a thought today. When Helena was near, he was drawn to her like an ocean wave to land. The light-green dress she wore flattered her golden-brown locks and brought out her eyes. Her bottom lip was moist as if she had just licked it.
Helena cocked her head at an angle, her fingers toying with the silver pendant around her neck. “You are staring,” she murmured.
“I am.”
Her eyelashes fluttered as she shyly averted her gaze. “Well, you should stop before someone misinterprets your bad manners for interest.” Even though she delivered a reprimand, there was amusement in her tone. Her gaze traveled slowly over him, her lips curling contentedly. His blood heated and there was a tightening in his lower belly.
“Now who is staring?”
His body screamed interest and it was mutual. The faint impression of taut nipples poked through her thin muslin dress. His mouth watered at the thought of sampling them.
A succession of sharp raps on a drum broke his Helena-induced trance. He inclined his head in her direction. “I believe that is my cue, Lady Prestwick.”
Sir Jonathan Hackberry came forward to introduce himself and shake Sebastian’s hand. The baronet wore no gloves, and his browned skin bore deep grooves, even though he couldn’t be any older than Sebastian. “I cannot thank you enough for volunteering to be my assistant today, Lord Thorne. The ladies are an eager audience.”
“Mesopotamia, eh?”
The gentleman puffed out his chest, preening like a peacock. “Uncovered them near the Tigris. Of course, the region is better known as the Ottoman Empire now. Please, come have a seat.”
He led Sebastian to a Chippendale chair and urged him to sit. “I need you to have an open mind, my lord. Concentrate on the beat of the drum and allow your spirit to wander wherever it wishes. You shouldn’t be caught off guard if you feel yourself floating above your body.”
Sebastian nearly rolled his eyes but stopped himself in time. Clearly Sir Jonathan Hackberry was one of those—uh, what were they called again? Oh, that’s right. A crackbrain. Sebastian had met several on his grand tour.
Eve slipped into a seat beside Helena and clasped hands with her. “I cannot believe he agreed. How marvelous.” His sister’s excited whispers carried on the air. Both women looked at him with expectation shining in their eyes. In fact, every woman seated in the semicircle seemed to be holding her breath, waiting for something spectacular to happen.
Never let it be said Sebastian was a disappointment to women.
***
Helena found the content of Sir Jonathan’s lecture interesting. His monotone voice, however, was becoming tedious. She shifted position on her chair and leaned closer to pretend attentiveness out of regard for their hostess.
“The frame drum emerged at the center of mystical religious traditions in the great civilizations of Mesopotamia, Anatolia, Greece, Egypt, Rome. Many of the relics uncovered in the excavation of these once thriving cities depict women as a priestess or goddess leading the religious ceremony through their drumming. Days of nonstop drumming and dance were intended to alter consciousness, to let go of earthly restraints so they could be one with their gods.”
Sir Jonathan moved behind the tall drum and stroked it like one would a lover. “This is a kettledrum and it was used for the same purpose.”
Suddenly, he smacked his palm hard against the surface. Eve jumped and cried out, then covered her giggle with her hand.
Helena exchanged an amused glance with Lord Thorne.
Sir Jonathan’s discourse continued between lively beats on the drum, his manner becoming less stiff.
“And this, dear ladies, is the frame drum I mentioned.” He hurried to the table, snatched a large round disk, and swung his head toward Lord Thorne. “Are you ready to demonstrate, my lord?”
With a half smirk, the baron nodded.
Sir Jonathan lifted the drum and knocked his hand against it. “This is called a thumb roll. Listen for the difference.”
There was a definite difference when he struck it a second time, although Helena didn’t know how to describe the sound. Wickie hadn’t thought it necessary for her to study music.