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“I’ll expect you in the next few days.”
    With that piece of impertinence, she turned on her heel and swept away.
    Along with Sebastian, Helena watched her go. “Is Lady March—whom I have never met—truly signaling us?”
    â€œNo. Come, let’s go this way.”
    They strolled again; Helena glanced at his face, at his politely bored mask. “Lady Almira’s son—is he the one who will eventually inherit your title?”
    Not a flicker of emotion showed in his face. He glanced down at her, then looked ahead. And said nothing.
    Helena raised her brows faintly and asked no more.
    They merged with the throng, then another large, lean, darkly elegant gentleman spied them and moved to intercept them. Or rather, he spied Sebastian. Only when he stepped free of the crowd did he see her.
    The gentleman’s eyes lit; he smiled and swept her a leg almost as graceful as Sebastian’s.
    Sebastian sighed. “My dear comtesse, allow me to present my brother, Lord Martin Cynster.”
    â€œ Enchanté , mademoiselle.” Martin took the hand she offered and raised it to his lips. “Little wonder my brother’s been so hard to find.”
    His smile was open, amused, and devil-may-care. Helena smiled back. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”
    Martin was considerably younger than Sebastian, yet from his manner it was clear he stood in no awe of one whom all others she’d thus far met approached with a degree of circumspection.
    â€œI had meant to ask,” Sebastian drawled, drawing Martin’s gaze from her, “whether you had recovered from your night at Fanny’s.”
    Martin flushed. “How the dev—deuce—did you hear about that?”
    Sebastian merely smiled.
    â€œIf you must know,” Martin continued, “I ended the night ahead. Dashed woman marks the cards, though—take my word for it.”
    â€œShe always has.”
    Martin blinked. “Well, you might have warned me.”
    â€œAnd spoil your fun? I’m not such a curmudgeon and am no longer, thank God, your keeper.”
    Martin grinned. “It was fun, I must admit. Took me awhile to see through her tricks.”
    â€œIndeed.” Sebastian glanced at Helena. “But I fear we’re boring Mlle d’Lisle.”
    â€œWell, this isn’t exactly a scintillating venue.” Martin turned to Helena. “It’s a pity you’ve arrived so late in the year, too late for Vauxhall or Ranelagh. Mind you, there’s old Lady Lowy’s masquerade coming up—that’s always a night to remember.”
    â€œAh, yes, I believe we have a card. The costumes will be intriguing.”
    â€œWhat character will you be masquerading as?” Martin asked.
    Helena laughed. “Oh, no, I’ve been warned not to tell.”
    Martin took a step back, eyeing her as if committing her physical characteristics to memory.
    â€œYou needn’t bother,” Sebastian informed him.
    â€œHow else am I to find her?”
    â€œSimple. Find me.”
    Martin blinked twice. His lips formed an “Oh.”
    â€œAh, there you are, ma petite .” Marjorie came up, smiling but, as always, wary in Sebastian’s presence. She smiled more easily at Martin and gave him her hand, then turned again to Helena. “We must go.”
    Reluctantly, Helena made her adieus. Sebastian bowed over her hand. “Until tomorrow night, mignonne .”
    His murmur was too low for the others to hear; the look in his eyes was likewise for her alone.
    Helena rose from her curtsy, inclined her head, then turned and, wondering, left him. Joining Marjorie, she glided into the crowd.
    Martin stepped to Sebastian’s side. “I’m glad I found you.” All levity had flown. “I don’t know how much more of Almira’s nonsense you can stomach, but George and I have had enough. Her behavior’s insupportable! The way