A full smile spread across his face. “No apology necessary, Miss…?”
She blinked, her thick lashes making her eyes even more extraordinary. “Lady Prestwick.”
Sebastian released her, a rush of disappointment leaving him flummoxed. “Begging your pardon, my lady. I meant no offense to you or Lord Prestwick.”
“So you know my husband. This never gets easier,” she mumbled and smoothed her hands over her skirts. Her delicate brows drew together as if it pained her to speak to him. “There was an accident. A little over a year ago. And he…uh…I am afraid he—”
“Oh! He died.”
“Sebastian!” Eve hissed and elbowed him.
“I am sorry to hear that, my lady, even though I didn’t know Lord Prestwick, per se.” Gads, Sebastian was a first-rate clod today. This was what came from avoiding Polite Society. He’d forgotten how to talk with people.
Eve linked arms with him. “Our condolences, Lady Prestwick. I don’t believe we have had the honor of an introduction. I am Eve Thorne and this is my older brother, Sebastian.”
The lady nodded. A light breeze off the Thames fluttered strands of golden-brown hair around her face. “I am familiar with you and your brother, Miss Thorne.”
Sebastian stiffened, prepared to defend his sister from a vicious attack, but it was unnecessary. Lady Prestwick smiled, two dimples appearing in her cheeks.
“It’s an honor to make your acquaintance. Perhaps you and Lady Thorne would call on me when I have my next at-home so I might meet her as well.”
The fight drained from him and his easy smile returned. The lady had truly surprised him with her invitation to call on her. Most ladies gave Eve the cut direct. His sister hadn’t attended a social gathering in a long time.
Eve squeezed his arm and beamed at Lady Prestwick. “That would be lovely. Mother will be so pleased when I tell her we have met.”
Lady Prestwick glanced at him once more and nervously licked her rose-colored lips. “Again, forgive me for not watching where I was going.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, my lady.” A woman like her was welcome in his arms any day, and if his sister weren’t present, he would let it be known. He had a fondness for widows and had provided comfort to several over the years. At least before they’d started referring to him as mad and began avoiding him.
The lady smiled once more then bid them a good day. He turned to watch her carriage approach and her climb inside. Her footman glowered at him as he closed the door and took his position before the carriage rolled away.
“Did you see that?” Sebastian asked his sister, his temper rising. “Her servant glared at me.”
“I am sure he has good reason.”
He tore his gaze from Lady Prestwick’s carriage disappearing around the corner. “A good reason? What good reason?”
She lifted a slender brow. “Don’t you dare be coy with me, Sebastian James Edmund Thorne.”
He rolled his eyes at her excessive use of names. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Lady Prestwick is your lady. For the life of me I cannot figure out how you sustained such severe injuries, though. Did you fight a round of fisticuffs for the honor of her company, or did she have her footman toss you from her house?”
“I have no lady, so I am not sure what you are babbling on about.” He pulled the door open wider and motioned his sister inside. She swept into the dim belly of the church.
“Very well. Be tight-lipped if you must, but I recognized her perfume. She is the lady from that night you claimed to be attacked by footpads.”
Eve’s revelation hit him square in the gut. He lifted his cravat to his nose and drew in the faint spicy-sweet scent of Lady Prestwick’s perfume lingering on him.
Jiminy. Maybe his sister was right, but reputable ladies like Viscountess Prestwick didn’t wander the East End, and they didn’t fall into the kind of trouble one would find there. He shook his head. No, Eve must be mistaken.
His sister reached the bottom of the stairs and looked back over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”
“Why are we here, anyway?”