Masks, Motives, and Mischief

He guided Amelia through the crowded rooms where true ladies of the night draped themselves over the shoulders of gentlemen in varying states of intoxication. Laughter, smoke, and the faint clink of coins filled the air, pressing in around them. The gaming rooms lay deeper within, but Sebastian veered toward the servers with some drinks first. He needed a drink—desperately.

He hoped the burn of a good whiskey might scorch away the thoughts that clung to his mind.

Somehow, Amelia had shifted from the sharp-tongued, stubborn creature he had grown accustomed to, into something far more dangerous—scandalous, alluring, and entirely too captivating. The transformation unsettled him. He found himself struggling to reconcile the two versions of her, as if his mind refused to believe they could belong to the same woman.

Sebastian took a slow sip of whiskey, but the burn did nothing to steady him. Amelia, for her part, seemed to revel in his unraveling. Whoever had coached her in this performance deserved a medal, or perhaps a firm scolding.

She swished her skirts just enough to catch the light, the fabric whispering against her legs with every movement. Her fan flicked open and shut like a weapon, slicing through the thick air as she laughed softly at some passing gentleman's joke. She leaned in, listening far too closely, her hand grazing an arm here, a shoulder there.

It was maddening.

Worse still, every so often, her eyes—those damn eyes—drifted back to him. Soft, curious, teasing. Each glance felt like a touch, and Sebastian's brain turned to putty the moment they met his.

She was enjoying this far too much.

Amelia carried on as though she'd been born to this life, her every move effortless and smooth. She looked entirely at ease, smiling behind her fan, as if this were nothing more than another social engagement.

Sebastian wasn't sure if he should be impressed or irritated. Probably both.

A low chuckle pulled him from his thoughts. One of the gentlemen at the bar gave Sebastian a knowing look. "She's a lively one. New, I take it?"

Sebastian's grip tightened on his glass. "Something like that."

The man laughed again and wandered off, leaving Sebastian alone to watch Amelia charm the room.

Sebastian set his glass down with a little too much force, the sharp clink drawing Amelia's attention. She met his narrowed gaze with an arched brow, clearly unrepentant.

"Amelia," he said, low and firm as she sauntered closer toward him. "We aren't here for you to collect admirers. There's no time to play."

She tilted her head, tapping her fan thoughtfully against her chin. "I seem to recall you instructing me to play the part. I'm simply following orders, my lord."

Sebastian exhaled sharply. He couldn't stop looking at her mouth, the tappings so close held an entirely different appeal. "There's a difference between subtlety and… whatever it is you're doing."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "I thought I was being quite subtle."

"You're about as subtle as a torch in a library," he muttered, stepping closer. 

"Perhaps you'd be so kind as to instruct me, then," Amelia said, her tone all honeyed defiance. "After all, you seem to have plenty of experience with paramours and mistresses."

Sebastian's mouth tightened. "You want me to—absolutely not. No proper lady should even be speaking of such things, let alone asking for lessons." He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "You are to continue just as you are, enough to make them believe you're a courtesan, but not so much that half the men in this room try to take you from me."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and Sebastian cursed silently. Why was he thinking about other men touching her? She wasn't his to protect. And yet, the thought lingered, stubborn and unwelcome.

His voice dropped further, meant for her ears alone. "We need to focus. Thornton is somewhere in this room, and the sooner we find him, the sooner we can leave." 

Amelia sighed but nodded, letting the fan dip to her side. "Fine. How do you suggest we do that without attracting more attention?"

Sebastian's gaze swept the room until it landed on a cluster of tables near the far end of the hall. Thornton sat among them, engaged in lively conversation.

"There," Sebastian said, subtly gesturing. "We'll sit at the table next to his. I'll engage him. You keep your head down and listen."

Amelia's eyes flickered toward Thornton, and she stiffened slightly, but recovered with a faint smile. "And if he recognizes me?"

Sebastian's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Then I'll handle it."

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, searching his expression. Finally, she gave a small nod. "Lead the way, my lord."

Sebastian offered his arm, and as Amelia slipped her hand through, he resisted the urge to question why he suddenly felt far too aware of her presence at his side.