Annabel likely did not know that, though. Most of society thought him an entertaining mooch. Even Harry thought he ate breakfast every day with the Valentines because he couldn’t afford food of his own.

Sebastian owed his place in society to his good looks and charm. And because there was always the possibility his uncle would die before begetting a new heir. But no one thought Sebastian had any form of income. Certainly no one suspected that he had earned a tidy sum penning gothic novels under a woman’s name.

Once the carriage escaped the snarled traffic of London, Edward fell right asleep. And stayed that way until they pulled up in front of Stonecross, the large Tudor manor that served as one of the Challis country seats. As Seb alighted, he found himself studying his surroundings with a careful eye.

It almost felt as if he were back in the war, scouting locations, watching the players. That was what he did. He observed. He had never been one of the soldiers at the front. He had never engaged in hand-to-hand combat, never looked the enemy in the eye. He had been removed from the action, always watching, taking his shots from afar.

And he never missed.

He had the two qualities found in all great snipers-excellent aim and endless patience. He took no shot unless it was perfect, and he never lost his head. Even the time Harry had been nearly killed, approached from behind by a French captain, Sebastian had held himself perfectly still. He’d watched, and waited, and he did not take the shot until the time was right. Harry had never known how close he had come to death.

Sebastian had vomited in the bushes.

Strange that he should feel so much like a soldier again. Or maybe not so strange. He’d been at war with his uncle his entire life.


At breakfast that morning, Lady Challis informed Annabel and Louisa that most of the guests, including Lord Newbury, were not due to arrive until late afternoon. She did not mention Sebastian, and Annabel did not ask. Such questions would be immediately reported to her grandmother, and Annabel dearly did not wish to repeat the sort of conversation they’d had the night before.

It was a lovely summer morning, so Annabel and Louisa decided to walk down to the pond, in no small part because no one else seemed to want to go. When they arrived, Louisa immediately picked up a stone and sent it skipping across the lake.

“How did you do that?” Annabel demanded.

“Skip a stone? Can’t you?”

“No. My brothers always claimed no girl could.”

“And you believed them?”

“Of course not. But I tried for years, and I was never able to prove them wrong.” Annabel picked up a stone and tried to skip it. It sank instantly.

Rather like a stone.

Louisa gave her a lofty grin, picked up another stone, and let it fly. “One…two…three…four…five!” she crowed, counting the skips. “My record is six.”

“Six?” Annabel asked, feeling very outdone. “Really?”

Louisa shrugged, looking for another stone. “My father ignores me in Scotland just as much as he does in London. The only difference is that instead of the season to occupy me, I have lakes and stones.” She found a nice flat rock and picked it up. “I’ve had a great deal of time to practice.”

“Show me how you-”

But Louisa had already sent it flying across the water. “One…two…three…four.” She let out an irritated snort. “I knew that rock was too heavy.”

Annabel watched in disbelief as her cousin skipped three more stones across the lake, each of them bouncing five times. “I do believe I am jealous,” she finally announced.

Louisa beamed. “Of me?”

“You don’t even look strong enough to lift one of those stones, much less skip it across the lake.”

“Now, now, Annabel,” Louisa scolded, smiling all the while. “Let’s not be mean.”

Annabel feigned a scowl.

“I can’t run fast,” Louisa said. “I’ve been banned from all archery tournaments out of concern for the safety of the rest of the contestants, and I can’t play cards worth a damn.”

“Louisa!”

Louisa had cursed. Annabel could not believe she had cursed.

“But I can”-Louisa sent another stone across the pond-“skip stones like a master.”

“So you can,” Annabel said, duly impressed. “Will you show me how to do it?”

“No.” Louisa gave her an arch look. “I like having something I’m so much better at than you.”

Annabel stuck out her tongue. “You say you can do six.”

“I can,” Louisa insisted.

“I haven’t seen it.” Annabel walked over to a large rock and patted the top, making sure it was dry before she sat down. “I have all morning. And afternoon, too, now that I think on it.”

Louisa scowled, then growled, then stomped off to find more stones. She did a five, then a four, then two more fives.

“I’m waiting!” Annabel called.

“I’m running out of good stones!”

“A likely excuse.” Annabel looked down at her fingernails to see if she’d got any dirt under them when she’d picked up her one pathetic stone. When she looked back up, a stone was sailing across the surface. One…two…three…four…five…six!

“You did it!” Annabel exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Six!”

“That wasn’t me,” Louisa said.

They both turned.

“Ladies,” Sebastian said, bowing elegantly. He looked impossibly handsome in the mid-morning sunshine. Annabel had never realized just how much red he had in his hair. She had never seen him in the morning, she realized. They had met in the moonlight, and in the afternoon. At the opera she had seen him in the flickering light of a hundred candles.

The morning light was different.

“Mr. Grey,” she murmured, feeling suddenly, unaccountably, shy.

“That was marvelous!” Louisa exclaimed. “What’s your record?”

“Seven.”

“Really?”

Annabel was not sure she’d ever seen her cousin so animated. Except possibly when she had been talking about those Gorely books. Which Annabel still needed to read. She’d started Miss Sainsbury and the Mysterious Colonel the night before but had only got through two chapters. Still, one could not help but be impressed by the adversity poor Miss Sainsbury had managed to overcome in just twenty-four pages. She’d survived cholera, an infestation of mice, and turned her ankle twice.

Annabel’s problems didn’t seem half so dreadful by comparison.

“Do you skip stones, Miss Winslow?” Sebastian asked politely.

“Much to my everlasting shame, no.”

“I can do six,” Louisa said.

“But not today,” Annabel said, unable to resist the poke.

Louisa held up an irritated finger and stomped off to the edge of the bank, looking for another suitable stone. Sebastian walked over and stood near Annabel, his hands clasped lightly behind his back.

“Does she know?” he asked quietly, motioning with his head toward Louisa.

Annabel shook her head.

“Does anyone?”

“No.”

“I see.”

She wasn’t sure what he thought he saw, because she certainly didn’t.

“Rather sudden invitation to the country, wouldn’t you say?” he murmured.

Annabel rolled her eyes. “I suspect my grandmother was behind it.”

“And she invited me?”

“No, actually I believe she said she could not prevent your being invited.”

He laughed at that. “I am so loved.”

Annabel’s heart skipped a beat.

“What is it?” he asked, taking in her suddenly startled expression.

“I don’t know. I-”

“This!” Louisa announced, marching back over. She was holding aloft a round, flat stone. “This is the perfect skipping stone.”

“May I see?” Sebastian asked.

“Only if you promise not to throw it.”

“I give you my word.”

She handed him the rock and he turned it over in his hand, testing the feel and weight of it. He gave it back with a little shrug.

“You don’t think it’s good?” Louisa asked, looking a bit put out.

“It’s not bad.”

“He’s trying to prick your confidence,” Annabel called.

Louisa gasped. “Is that true?”

Sebastian gave Annabel a lazy smile. “You know me so well, Miss Winslow.”

Louisa stalked to the water’s edge. “That was positively ungentlemanly of you, Mr. Grey.”

Sebastian chuckled and leaned against the rock where Annabel was sitting. “I like your cousin,” he said.

“I like her, too.”

Louisa took a deep breath, assumed full concentration, and sent the stone forth, with what Annabel thought was an amazingly sharp flick of her wrist.

They all counted. “One…two…three…four…five…six!”

“Six!” Louisa shrieked. “I did it! Six! Ha!” This was directed at Annabel. “I told you I could do six.”

“Now you have to do seven,” Sebastian said.

Annabel sputtered with laughter.

“Not today I don’t,” Louisa declared. “Today I glory in my sixdom.”

“Sixdom?”

“Sixitude.”

Annabel started to grin.

“Sixulation,” Louisa proclaimed. “Besides,” she added, cocking her head toward Sebastian, “I haven’t seen you do seven.”

He held up his hands in defeat. “It’s been many, many years.”

Louisa gave them both a regal smile. “On that note, I believe I shall take myself off to celebrate. I shall see the both of you later. Perhaps much later.” And with that she departed, leaving Annabel and Sebastian quite alone.

“Did I say I like your cousin?” Sebastian mused. “I do believe I love her.” He tilted his head toward. “Purely platonically, of course.”

Annabel took a deep breath, but when she let it out, she felt shaky and nervous. She knew he wanted an answer, and he deserved one. But she had nothing. Just an awful, empty feeling inside.

“You look tired,” she said. Because he did.

He shrugged. “I didn’t sleep well. I rarely do.”