She tried another tack. “Morgan may have performed the act, but how do I know Sebastian had no part in the planning?”
Instead of answering that question, he posed one of his own. “Is that why you came here? To find some way of making my nephew pay for what his brother did?”
“No, I came here to learn the truth, that’s all,” she said fiercely. “I want to know why he did it. What it was about. Why he didn’t just tell Crouch to leave me and my family alone. I want to know why, after it was all over, he just abandoned—” She caught herself before she could reveal more. Sucking in a harsh breath, she said, “I only want the truth.”
He looked visibly shaken by her words. “Perfectly understandable. And you deserve it, too. But sometimes the truth is complicated, and knowing it wouldn’t change anything.”
“It would for me. I’ve spent two years wondering how I could be so stupid as to fall into your nephew’s trap. But if I thought he’d done it for something more than a whim or a hope of monetary gain…” Her face brightened. “Could he have needed the money for Charnwood? Could he have done it for that reason?”
“Morgan?” he asked coolly. “Why would he care about Charnwood?”
She gritted her teeth. He refused to acknowledge the truth, even though she felt certain he knew it.
“Besides,” Mr. Pryce continued, “you said he didn’t take any money for it. Only information.”
“Yes, but perhaps that’s why he wanted the information, so he could go aboard the Oceana. Perhaps Crouch knew of some…I don’t know…rich cargo that would be loaded on July 17, one that would make it worth Morgan’s while to be aboard.” It made sense. Indeed, it was the only explanation that did, in light of the evidence.
His face closed up. “Morgan had no interest in money from that kidnapping. I am certain of that. It is not in his character.”
“Yes, but if his brother asked it of him—”
“It is not in Sebastian’s character, either. Have you not heard anything I told you?”
Oh yes, every word. He’d told her all the things calculated to make her want to forgive Sebastian, to forget his deceptions and treacheries. But she refused to let him—or Sebastian—use her tender feelings against her.
“I agree that your nephews have had difficulties in their lives. But if you expect me to excuse their actions because of what you’ve told me, you don’t know me very well. My father was a scoundrel, too. He brought great shame on his children at one point in our lives, yet my sisters and I have never used that as an excuse for behaving badly.”
“You are a hard case, Lady Juliet.” He brushed a speck of dust from his immaculate coat. “Nonetheless, although my nephew enticed you away from your family, you are the one who ignored all propriety and good sense to go with him. So what excuse do you use for ‘behaving badly’ two years ago?”
She flinched, but his question was fair. “None. The difference between me and your nephew is that I don’t make excuses. I don’t wish to avoid the consequences of my foolishness. I recognize that I made my own bed, and now I must lie in it. But if I should have to pay, so should he.”
“And if he’s dead and cannot pay, you will seize on Sebastian for your revenge?”
“This isn’t about revenge!” Striding up to the settee, she sat down and grabbed his hand. “This is about justice. Please, Mr. Pryce, you must understand. Soon I’ll return to London to face the effects of this gossip. It doesn’t matter who started it or who’s spreading it—someone will eventually dig deeply enough to realize it’s true. No one will believe I was kidnapped—my family didn’t prosecute it. So society will note only that I eloped with a man and came home unwed. When that occurs, no man will marry me.”
“I have trouble believing that.” He patted her hand with a fatherly concern that made her want to scream. “A lovely woman like yourself, with so much to offer? I am sure that when your family explains the situation—”
“My family wouldn’t be here if they thought they could simply explain everything away.” She leaned toward him imploringly. “And you know what happens to women who are ruined. They’re scorned by other women, shunned by respectable men, and sought out by those scoundrels who consider any such woman an easy target.”
“Perhaps in some cases, but—”
“Do you think it’s fair that the man who wronged me should walk freely in society while I suffer the attentions of every rogue who wants to ravish me?”
“Of course not!” Sweat beaded on his forehead. Looking uncertain, he drew out a handkerchief with a shaky hand and mopped his brow. “But I don’t know what you want from me. Morgan is…dead. What could I possibly offer—”
“The truth, curse it! It’s the least I deserve! If I have to endure the groping hands and improper advances of unfeeling blackguards thanks to this gossip—”
“You will not!” boomed a voice from the doorway. She looked up to find Sebastian standing there, his face alight with anger. “You won’t suffer any of that ever again. I give you my word.”
Chapter 11
Let my heart be wise.
It is the gods’ best gift.
Euripides’ Medea, worked on a handkerchief by Juliet Laverick
S ebastian stepped into the room, her words ringing in his ears—the groping hands and improper advances of unfeeling blackguards. By thunder, men were treating her in this barbarous fashion? Because of him? He’d thought from her inexperienced kissing and naiveté that she’d never endured such improprieties, but it seemed he was wrong.
How could Knighton have let it continue so long? Why hadn’t he come here before? If Sebastian had possessed any idea of what was going on in London…
But he hadn’t known, of course. Mentions of her in the papers had always been respectful: “Lady Juliet Laverick was seen at the opera house” or “One member of the party was Lady Juliet.” Never a bad word was spoken of her.
All the same…“I’ll make sure no one harms you, do you hear?” he repeated. “I’ll put an end to any gossip, I swear.”
A flush of anger darkened her features as she leaped to her feet. “Oh? And how shall you do that?”
By marrying you, by laying claim to you so no man ever dares touch you or speak ill of you again. He didn’t dare say it aloud. Yet. “You needn’t worry how. I will, I promise. There won’t be the tiniest breath of scandal attached to your name when you return to London.” When his uncle rose and seemed about to speak, Sebastian shot him a quelling glance. “I’ll take care of it personally. You have my word.”
Uncle Lew’s gaze met his, no doubt trying to determine Sebastian’s intentions. There’d be plenty of time later to explain how things had changed.
In the meantime, Sebastian had much to say to Juliet privately, much to learn after her astonishing comments to his uncle. And the only way to do that was to whisk her off. His gaze snapped back to her. “You’d best come along.”
She hesitated, her gaze flying to his uncle in mute appeal. It irritated Sebastian that she’d tried to attach Uncle Lew as her ally. And deuce take it, what had they discussed before he came?
“Knighton was standing outside Charnwood Hall when we rode up,” Sebastian added. “He was furious.”
Instantly, her hesitation turned to alarm. “Oh dear, Rosalind didn’t tell him where we’d been, did she?”
“No,” Sebastian answered, “but—”
“Where had you been?” his uncle asked.
Sebastian figured he’d best let Juliet answer that.
“It’s…complicated.” She flashed Uncle Lew an apologetic smile. “I have to go. Thank you for the informative discussion. I do hope we can finish it some time.”
He looked uncomfortable. “I’ll show you out,” he murmured and started forward.
With a scowl, Sebastian took her arm. “Don’t trouble yourself, Uncle.”
Wise man that Uncle Lew was, he knew better than to go against Sebastian’s wishes in this devilish situation. “Very well,” the man said curtly, th
en sank down on the settee.
Sebastian led her into the hall as he considered which room would suit a private discussion. He’d rather have it here at Foxglen, where she couldn’t easily escape him.
As soon as they were out of earshot, she tried to remove his hand from her arm, but he wouldn’t let go. “So what did Griff say?” she snapped. “Did he demand to know where we’d been? How did Rosalind respond? Is he waiting for me to confirm her claims?”
He spotted the door to the conservatory at the other end of the hall and quickened his pace. “He doesn’t even know you were with us. She told him you were sick.”
They’d reached the conservatory. When he opened the door, a blast of fecund warm air hit them. He hurried her inside. “The last time I saw them, they were heading in to breakfast, and he seemed satisfied by her tale that we’d ridden over to visit my uncle.”
She stared about her in confusion at the riot of flowering hibiscus, ferns, and potted palms in the round, glass-ceilinged room. As he closed the door behind her, she whirled around. “You said Griff was furious—”
“He was. But he isn’t now. I merely wanted to talk to you.”
It took a second for his words to register, and a second more for her to realize they were alone together for the first time since yesterday. Then her eyes widened to panic. Without pausing to berate him, she darted around him and reached for the doorknob. He planted his hand against the door before she could even open it.
“Let me out!” she demanded, rattling the knob.
“Not until we’ve had our discussion.”
She faced him, flattening herself against the door. Her lilac scent misted over him, delicate and fine. He wanted to grab her and hold her close, but she’d likely throttle him if he tried. Still, with his arm braced against the door over her shoulder, she was so close only a breath separated them. As he stared down at her face, his every muscle went taut.
Ah, but she was lovely, especially here. Like Aphrodite, the goddess of spring and beauty, she belonged in warm Cyprian groves, dripping flowers from her fingers as she danced through the moonlight. She did not belong amid the treacherous forests of London society, that was certain. He should never have left her to wander them alone.
The sudden quickening of her breath showed she was aware of him, too. She dropped her gaze to stare into his cravat. “I have nothing to discuss with you just now.”
He leaned into her. “Tell me about the scoundrels in London, the ones who put their ‘groping hands’ on you. When you said you wanted to learn about rakes so you could avoid them, I didn’t realize it was because they’d made ‘improper advances.’”
A tiny frown of confusion creased her smooth brow. “What in creation are you talking about? Men in London may have courted me, but none of them ever—” She broke off suddenly, and her expression cleared. “That’s what you get for eavesdropping. Heard something you didn’t like, did you?”
“Devil take it, I want to know who they are!”
“Oh, for goodness sake, you misunderstood what I told your uncle. I wasn’t speaking of what had already happened, but what could happen if this gossip continues.”
Relief nearly brought him to his knees. What had he been thinking? From the beginning, she’d shown herself to be nearly as innocent as a woman her age could be. Jealous anger had so overtaken him that he hadn’t stopped to consider what he’d seen of her character. Of course no one had put his hands on her.
He’d been right all along about the gossip. If there was any, it was minor. She only spoke of it when she wanted to tug at someone’s sympathies—like his uncle’s. “You needn’t worry about such nonsense. It won’t continue if I have anything to say about it.”
She cast him a mutinous look. “What makes you think you can stop it? And you know how all the rakes will act once they learn for certain that I’d been a very naughty girl. Witness how you behaved after you learned about the kidnapping. You felt free to kiss me and touch me—”
“That had nothing to do with it. I kissed you because I wanted you. I would have kissed you if I’d met you under perfectly proper circumstances.” That she could lump him in with those scoundrels in London infuriated him. He didn’t know which was worse—her thinking him an inept imbecile, or a heartless seducer.
Especially when he’d already proved she didn’t mind his attentions, no matter what he was. “It’s not as if I was alone in all that kissing and touching, either,” he snapped. “You know very well that you welcomed it.”
With a haughty little sniff, she turned her head. “That’s absurd.”
Anger boiled up through him. After yesterday, that she could still pretend—“I didn’t imagine it, Juliet, so don’t think you can return to telling me how ‘adequate’ my kisses are. I remember your eager mouth. I remember your soft sighs of pleasure. That isn’t how a bored or offended woman behaves. Have you forgotten kissing me back? Sliding your hands inside my coat? You can no longer deny that you want me. Yesterday I proved that you do.”
“You proved nothing.” She moved away from the door. “I never said—”
“You didn’t have to.” He caught her arm when she tried to pass him. “Your actions spoke well enough.”
“I was merely…caught up in the moment,” she whispered, though she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “But if you think that means anything—”
“Blast it all, it means everything, and you know it. It means you care for me. I dare you to look me in the eye and deny it.”
Juliet knew she was on shaky ground already, but it got shakier when she made the mistake of doing as he demanded. Goodness gracious, but the man could rock the very floor beneath her feet with just a look. Such a magnetic gaze, such a brooding stare…It made her want to throw herself into his arms. Or run. He’d eyed her like that yesterday in the drawing room—as a starving sea serpent eyes the virgin tied to the rocks just before he strikes and devours.
His all-consuming need scrambled her already quite muddled thoughts, and that was the last thing she could afford in this secret winter Eden.
Without answering, she jerked her arm free and hurried down the three marble steps into the conservatory’s center. Looking for a door to the outside, she strode along the circular path around a huge marble pedestal upon which reigned an impressive potted begonia.
It was no use. She felt him stalking her, felt his lambent heat behind her in the musky damp of the room. “You can’t deny it, can you?” he rasped. “You may not like being attracted to the brother of your kidnapper, but you are.”
She gritted her teeth against the urge to protest that he and her “kidnapper” were one and the same. She refused to confront him until she had him inescapably trapped. “It’s not an attraction. You’ve merely misunderstood—”
“That you want me? Have I?” Without warning, he slipped his arm about her waist and dragged her back against his rock-hard flesh. “So you don’t want me to hold you like this?” he murmured against her hair. “You find it disgusting?”
Dear me, if only she did. “Sebastian, don’t—”
“Hold you? Kiss you? Want you, too?” He nuzzled her upswept hair, then pressed a delicious kiss to her bared neck. “Why not?”
She couldn’t speak or think or…or anything. Not when his lips were dancing kisses over her skin, awakening it to a world of sensual possibilities.
“Tell me you want me to leave you alone,” he prodded. “Say it, and I will. I swear I’ll never touch you again if you say the words.”
Such a small request for him. Such a huge request for her. Because the longer he held her, the more addicted she grew to his embrace. To the firm, masculine feel of his unyielding upper torso imprinted on her back and derriere. To the warmth of his body curling around hers. His hold immobilized one of her arms, yet he exerted very little force. She believed he really would release her if she asked.
She didn’t ask.
“Is that what you want—for me not to touch you?” He brushed his parted
lips over her ear, and a luscious shiver swept her skin. “I’ll make it easy for you.” He lifted his gloved hand scant inches to place it squarely—scandalously—upon her breast. “This, sweeting, is an ‘improper advance.’ Feel free to chide me for it.”
She opened her mouth to do that very thing. Then he began rubbing in exquisitely slow, tempting circles, and she couldn’t form any word or thought that didn’t involve him continuing that intriguing motion.
“You like that, don’t you?” There was triumph in the words whispered hot against her ear. “You like having my hands on you. Say it.”
“I-I can’t…” Because then he’d win. She couldn’t stand letting the wretched liar win.
Yet she also couldn’t wait to see what outrageous thing he’d do next, what naughty touches he’d use to sway her. Why not see? At least then she’d know. She’d get to taste the forbidden fruit he’d dangled in front of her two years ago, then snatched away. After that, she’d have a perfectly good reason to slap him and thrust him away. And she would. Afterward.
As if he read her very thoughts, he stripped off his gloves, then slid both bare hands over her clothed breasts to engage in the most daring caresses. His palms fondled her artfully, his fingers squeezed and thumbed and stroked through the muslin until she wanted to die from the thrill.
He made her want things, unbelievable, wicked things…He made her ache to tear her clothes off to feel those expert hands on her naked skin. On her nipples, yes, and her belly and…
My oh my oh my. She ought to stop him. Really. Now…
“You like having me touch you, my naughty angel. Admit it.”
“Sebastian…” she whispered, trying for a protest, but managing only a demand.
He chuckled. “I know why you can’t admit it in words. Why you’ve been toying with me all this time, refusing to admit you want me.”
She froze. Had he guessed what she’d been trying to do? “Wh-why?”
“Because of what my foolish brother did to you by gaining your affections and then abandoning you.” He nibbled her earlobe. “But I won’t abandon you like Morgan. If he’d had an ounce of sense, he wouldn’t have either. He’d have ridden off with you when he had the chance and carried you straight to Gretna Green. He was a fool not to.”
After the Abduction Page 16