Lord Talbot. Something in the petulant way she said his name rung a chord in the back of Seb’s mind. There was only one person who’d ever had the gumption to address him so openly in a repeated fashion, unable or unwilling to hide her true sentiments when it came to his poking and prodding. But that was ridiculous. He’d already dismissed the notion that she could possibly be here. Especially not here in Italy, of all places. But the thought still niggled however much Sebastian tried to displace it. The pieces were starting to fall together, somewhat. The failed engagement was key, but anyone really could have a failed engagement. Perhaps he was just hearing what he wanted to? (Though why he’d want to hear from Irene Crawley he had no fathomable explanation.)The song was beginning to slowly meander towards its end and Sebastian could feel his time running out. If he didn’t unmask this rouge stranger soon, he’d never be able to shake the feeling of familiarity and it would bother him, endlessly. He had to know, once and for all, who this woman was. What this stranger that so tried to evade him could possibly be hiding. (Because she was evading him, he thought petulantly. If she wasn’t, then obviously she’d have given a proper introduction herself a long time ago.)
He’d just opened his mouth to respond when suddenly her voice shook and emotion seemed to catch the woman by the shoulders. Sebastian blinked heavy blue irises at her and realization finally dawned. You have no idea what I need!
It had been a rainy, humid afternoon. Colin had stepped away to have a word with the housekeeper, a gentle, ancient woman (by muggle standards) who’d always snuck them snacks when they were boys. She was retiring and so Sebastian had invited both Colin and his fiancé to the estate to say goodbye. Irene was lingering by the window looking put out about something as he’d approached.
“Infuriated with the rain or just irritated to be left alone with me?” Sebastian chirped, lacing his fingers behind his back as a maid shuffled about quietly in the corner. He wasn’t a complete rake; he’d made sure to instruct the staff that Irene was to be consistently accompanied like any lady ought to be, despite the grumbling he knew would result. (She’s the same class as us, not a lady. Why should we be bothered?!)
She in turn commented something about his confidence in himself stretching to unrealistic lengths in assuming her mood had anything to do with him which tipped Sebastian’s head and provoked the usual teasing. She had always been so easy to insight to anger; it was like an endlessly amusing toy. They volleyed back and forth and in the end, it was with aplomb that she’d cried out.
“You, Lord Talbot, have no idea what I need! I would thank you not to pry any further!” And then she stormed out of the room.
The same statement rung in the back of his mind now, twin voices merging together. But it couldn’t possibly be her. There was no fathomable chance in hell—
The music slowed and rounded out. Feet came to a halt and where he ought to have released her and bent at the waist to go his own way, Sebastian could only stare blankly. One hand dropped from the small of the lady’s back and the other lingered, holding her delicate hand in his. Then, wordlessly and without warning, he reached up and tugged her mask brusquely off her face.