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Slowly, smoothly, she turned her head and looked into his blue eyes. “Because you’ve ensured that that’s so.”
    He returned her regard with an enigmatic gaze, steady, direct, but unreadable.
    â€œYou’re lulling them, waiting them out, until they grow bored and stop watching.”
    It could have been a question, yet even in her mind there was no doubt. Her chest felt suddenly tight. It was difficult to breathe, difficult to say, “You are playing a game with me.”
    A hint of what that meant to her must have colored her tone; something flickered in his eyes. His face grew harder. “No, mignonne —this is no game.”
    She hated and abhorred the games of powerful men, yet here she was, having escaped one such man, entangled in a game with another. How had it happened—so quickly, so totally against her will?
    Although he remained relaxed, elegantly at ease, a frown had darkened his eyes. They searched hers, but she’d learned long ago to keep her secrets.
    His gaze sharpened; he reached for her hand. “Mignonne—”
    â€œThere you are, Sebastian.”
    He looked up; Helena did, too. She felt his fingers close about her hand—he didn’t let go as a lady, a large English lady with a round face framed by brown ringlets, swept forward. She was so weighted down by jewelry one barely noticed the odd shade of her gown. Helena thought she heard Sebastian sigh.
    The lady halted before the chaise. Slowly, his very slowness an indication of his displeasure, Sebastian uncrossed his long legs and rose. Helena rose with him.
    â€œGood evening, Almira.” He waited. Somewhat belatedly, Almira bobbed him a curtsy. Inclining his head in reply, he glanced at Helena. “My dear comtesse, allow me to present Lady Almira Cynster. My sister-in-law.”
    Helena met his gaze, read his irritation very clearly, then looked to the lady.
    â€œAlmira—the comtesse d’Lisle.”
    Again Sebastian waited; so did Helena. With ill-concealed annoyance and little grace, Almira curtsied again. Her temper prodded, Helena smiled sweetly and showed her how the curtsy should have been performed.
    Straightening, she caught an appreciative gleam in Sebastian’s eyes.
    â€œI understand St. Ives has been introducing you around.” Her gaze flat and cold, Lady Almira surveyed her—blatantly, rudely.
    â€œMonsieur le duc has been most kind.”
    Lady Almira’s lips tightened. “Indeed. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting monsieur le comte d’Lisle.”
    Helena smiled serenely. “I am not married.”
    â€œOh. I thought—“ Lady Almira broke off, genuinely puzzled.
    â€œUnder French law, in the absence of male heirs, the comtesse inherited the title from her father.”
    â€œAh.” If anything, Almira looked even more puzzled. “So you’re not married?”
    Helena shook her head.
    Almira’s face darkened; she turned to Sebastian. “Lady Orcott is asking after you.”
    Sebastian raised one brow. “Indeed?”
    His retort made it clear he was totally uninterested.
    â€œShe’s been searching for you.”
    â€œDear me. If you come across her, do point her this way.”
    Helena bit her tongue. Sebastian’s caustic retort had no discernible effect on his sister-in-law.
    Almira shifted, facing Sebastian fully, giving Helena her shoulder. “I wanted to tell you—Charles has started climbing stairs. He’s growing sturdier by the day. You must call and see him.”
    â€œHow fascinating.” Sebastian shifted his hold on Helena’s fingers; raising her hand, he glanced her way. “I believe, my dear, that Lady March is signaling us.” He flicked a glance at Almira. “You must excuse us, Almira.”
    It was a command not even Almira could miss. Disgruntlement clear in her face, she bobbed a curtsy to them both and stepped back.