"That Neptune is magnificent-and the Sun King, too."

"Mme de Pompadour is Therese Osbaldestone, which is something of a surprise."

"Did she recognize us, do you think?"

"I expect so. Very little misses those black eyes."

They were nearly at the end of the room when Sebastian tightened his hold on her hand. He glanced down as she looked up questioningly. "Mignonne,I need to speak with you privately."

Helena stopped walking. Started to frown. "I cannot-will not-be private with you. Not again."

He exhaled through his teeth, glanced around, noted how close others were. "I cannot discuss what I wish to discuss in such surrounds-and it's not possible to arrange to meet with you privately by any other means." Not without tipping the wink to the gabblemongers.

She didn't say anything. The stubborn set of her lips gave him her answer.

Sebastian knew he was close to losing his temper. It had been a very long time since anyone-let alone a slip of a woman-had dared deny him so stubbornly. And for once in his life, his intentions were honorable.

"Mignonne-"He instantly knew he'd chosen the wrong tone; her spine stiffened like a poker. He exhaled, then stated, "I give you my word that you will be safe with me. I do need to speak with you."

The stubborn set of her chin eased; her lips shifted, twisted, grimaced lightly. But . . .

Briefly she returned the clasp of his fingers, then shook her beautiful head. "Non.I cannot . . ." She drew breath, lifted her chin. "I dare not go apart with you, Your Grace."

Helena watched his eyes darken, although his face changed not at all.

"Do you question my word,mignonne ?"

The words were soft, steely.

She shook her head. "No-"

"You don't trust me?"

"That is not it at all!" It wasn'thim she didn't trust-but she couldn't tell him that. Too revealing, too much an acknowledgment of her susceptibility, her vulnerability-her weakness over him. "It is just that . . . No. I cannot go apart with you, Your Grace." She tugged. "Sebastian, let me go!"

"Helena-"

"No!"

Their altercation, albeit conducted in hissed whispers and low growls, was starting to attract attention. Gritting his teeth, Sebastian forced himself to release her. "We are not finished with this discussion."

Her eyes blazed. "Weare finished entirely, Your Grace."

She turned and stormed off-an imperial termagant leaving a conqueror, dismissed, in her wake.

Sebastian stood perfectly still for three minutes before he got his temper back under control. Even then he had to stop himself from snapping when some unfortunate lady thought to offer him solace. Then he glimpsed Martin, a corsair, through the crowd. He started to prowl, his mind fixed on one object-and on how to achieve his goal.

He hadn't prowled far when he was approached by a pirate.

"Monsieur le duc, I do hope my cousin is not"-a vague gesture punctuated the pirate's words-"being difficult?"

De Sevres. Biting back the urge to articulate just how difficult his cousin was indeed being, Sebastian drawled, "Mademoiselle is an extremely stubborn woman."

"Vraiment."

De Sevres was wearing a half-mask; Sebastian could see his worried frown.

"If I could help in any way . . . perhaps be of some a.s.sistance . . . ?"

Sebastian fought to keep his expression impa.s.sive. What was going on? He was tempted to pursue the matter-why a man supposedly sent to protect Helena was offering instead to a.s.sist in what, for all he knew, was to be her seduction-but at that precise moment, he had a more imperative goal.

"I wish to speak privately with mademoiselle la comtesse, but she is proving elusive."

"I see, I see." De Sevres nodded, frowned harder.

"Perhaps if I were to set a location and wait there, you might endeavor to persuade her to join me?"

Looking into the crowd, de Sevres considered, calculated; eyes narrowed, he chewed his lower lip. Sebastian would have taken an oath he wasn't worrying over the propriety of his actions but rather how to persuade Helena to comply. Then de Sevres nodded. "What location?"

Not why did he wish to speak with her-for how long, how privately . . . Sebastian made a mental note to investigate de Sevres a great deal more closely once he'd secured Helena's hand.

"The library." A sufficiently formal setting, which would likely make Helena less suspicious; Sebastian had little faith in de Sevres's powers of obfuscation. He nodded to a doorway across the ballroom. "Go through there, turn right, then follow the hall to a long gallery. The library is the main room giving off that. If you wish to a.s.sist me, bring mademoiselle there in twenty minutes."

At this hour the library should be empty, although as the evening progressed, others, too, would seek out its amenities.

De Sevres tugged on his waistcoat. "I will bring her." With a nod, he moved off in the direction Helena had gone.

Sebastian watched him go and inwardly shook his head. Later . . .

He turned-and found himself facing Martin.

One look into his eyes and his brother grinned. "Itis you! Now, where is she?" He glanced around. "You wouldn't believe it, but I've found three Helen of Troys so far, and none of them are she."

"If you're referring to mademoiselle la comtesse, she's here, but not as Helen of Troy."

"Oh?" Martin frowned. "Then who . . . ?"

He c.o.c.ked a brow at Sebastian-who considered him, then shook his head. "I know for a fact that you received a cla.s.sical education. I wouldn't want to inhibit the exercising of your intellect." He clapped Martin on the shoulder. "Think hard, and the answer will come to you."

With that, Sebastian strolled on, leaving Martin scowling good-naturedly after him.

The library was indeed deserted when he reached it. He surveyed the long room, then strolled to the large desk set out from one corner. Beyond it, in the corner of the room, sat a commodious armchair. Sebastian sat, stretched out his legs, folded his hands, and waited for his d.u.c.h.ess-to-be to appear.

Helena didn't notice Louis hovering until she turned from chatting to Therese Osbaldestone and saw him step toward her. She inclined her head, expecting to pa.s.s him by.

Instead, he put a hand on her arm. "You must come with me-quickly."

Louis's manner was agitated. He was glancing around.