The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

by Jillian Hunter

  “Perhaps for him to go.”

  “Devon said he would take me.”

  “Then I shall wring the young devil’s neck when he comes home,” he said, his deep voice rising at the very thought of the danger involved.

  She stared at him, clearly fighting tears, of defiance, of grief. “One day I shall do exactly what I like.”

  “Not if I have a say in it.” He put his hands firmly on her shoulders. She stiffened and refused to meet his gaze. “Don’t see that soldier again,” he said, sounding so much like their father that he winced.

  “You’ve probably frightened him away forever anyway,” she muttered.

  “I hope so.”

  She lifted her gaze to his, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “You might have frightened Jane away, too.”

  Grayson struggled against the urge to laugh as he remembered the setdown Jane had dealt him in his sister’s defense. Had everyone underestimated her? “She took your side, if you must know.”

  “I like her, Grayson,” she admitted, expelling a deep sigh. “There’s something appealing about Jane. Please don’t do anything to make her situation worse.”

  He looked surprised. “Chloe, it’s partly because of you that I have become her friend. You convinced me in the chapel that helping her was the right thing to do, and it made me think. And, you know, it’s really odd, I like her, too. It’s so easy to talk to her.”

  “Just don’t take being her friend too far,” she said quietly.

  He exhaled in relief, tempted to take her in his arms like the little sister she would always be to him. So Jane was to be their common ground, the link to reestablish their damaged relationship. Jane, his sensible peacemaker and unwitting seductress.

  “I think Jane is able to take care of herself,” he said. “Especially if we remain loyal to her.”

  “I hope so.” Chloe gave him a tentative smile. “Perhaps she will bring out the best in you.”

  “Not the beast?”

  She laughed reluctantly, unable to resist his charm. “For her sake, I hope not.”

  Chapter 12

  For the next five days Grayson played the part of an attentive suitor, escorting Jane to soirées, to lectures, and even to a late-night supper with a few close friends at the Clarendon. He introduced her to the sophisticated pleasures of his world, a glittering realm into which she had only peeped before. Instead of slipping into the peaceful obscurity she’d hoped for, she was toasted by rakes and radicals; she made friends with actresses and gamblers and deposed artists from Paris. She visited the docks to see Grayson’s latest ship unloaded from China, and with every passing moment she knew that this illegitimate enjoyment would soon come to an end.

  She did not want it to end.

  She had begun to live for every moment of his wicked company. She had never laughed so much in her entire life. He was arrogant. He was thoughtful. She was so attracted to him she feared she could not hide it.

  Today they had watched a balloon ascension in Green Park, and on the way home she had come perilously close to admitting everything. The strain of keeping her secret from a man of his experience was more than she could bear. Especially when he was confiding his own hopes and fears to her. To think that he trusted her with family secrets while she continued to mislead him. Wasn’t it usually the other way around? Wasn’t the scoundrel supposed to trick the young lady?

  If he had not become so personally involved with her, taking the uncharacteristic role of hero, she suspected he might actually be the sort of man to appreciate what she and Nigel had done.

  Ironically, under different circumstances, Grayson Boscastle would be the very person to turn to for advice. He would be the most loyal and understanding friend one could wish for. And she wished with all her heart to deserve him.

  Caroline and Miranda crept into their sister’s darkened bedchamber, peering down through the gloom at the slender figure stretched out flat on the four-poster. Jane lay like a stone effigy with a cold cloth clapped to her forehead, her hair streaming over her pillows. She pretended to be asleep until her nerves could not take another second of their intrusive silence. She could not continue in this manner. Her conscience would not allow it.

  “Go away, both of you,” she said between her teeth.

  “Oh, Jane,” Miranda said in breathless sympathy, “you look . . . you look positively wrung out.”

  “Quite possibly because I am.”

  Caroline plopped down on the bed, her voice ruefully assured. “I was right. Sedgecroft is horrible.”

  “No.” Jane yanked off her cloth and opened her eyes in protest. “He’s wonderful. The most wonderful thing I have ever had the misfortune to experience in my life.”

  Her sisters exchanged startled looks. “Do tell,” Miranda said, sinking down beside Caroline.

  “I am telling you nothing.”

  “If you are trying to say that he seduced you,” Miranda whispered, “on your very first week—”

  “Of course he didn’t seduce me,” Jane said in irritation. “He might have kissed me. Once or twice.”

  Caroline’s brow furrowed in a frown. “And that is why you are lying here in the dark?”

  “If you had ever been kissed by Sedgecroft, you would not ask such a stupid question. You might even be incapable of coherent speech.”

  “I think we might have misjudged him,” Miranda said after a long silence. “He can be quite charming when given the chance.”

  “Was there ever any doubt of that?” Jane gave a sigh as she vividly recalled just how potent his powers could be. “That is what makes him a successful scoundrel.”

  “Then how,” Caroline asked, “do you intend to resist him?”

  “With the greatest of difficulty, I assure you. Apparently I am not as immune to his charm as I had hoped. I have yet to recover from our outing today.”

  “Well, you’d better start making a recovery.” Miranda glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “His footman Weed left a message that the marquess would be calling on you within the hour.”

  Jane sat up in alarm. “Why?”

  “The annual ball at Southwick House,” Caroline said. “It’s one of the biggest affairs of the Season. Only a favored few are invited early. Honestly, Jane, we do attend every year.”

  Jane stared past them in mild panic to her wardrobe. Never had her flair for fashion been quite so challenged as in the past five days. She hadn’t minded looking like a pigeon until Sedgecroft had cast the gauntlet, challenging her in his devilish way. “It might have been nice if he had told me. What am I supposed to wear?”

  “The pale rose gauze with the fringed shawl,” Caroline replied. “The one in your trousseau made for the wedding reception.”

  “Wedding reception?” Jane said vaguely, wondering if rose could be considered pink, thereby pleasing to Sedgecroft’s reprobate tastes. “What reception?”

  “The reception you were to have with Nigel,” Miranda said archly. “The man you went to Machiavellian lengths to avoid marrying.”

  Jane frowned and slid off the bed in her stocking feet. “I am perfectly aware of his name, thank you.”

  “The rose gown isn’t in your wardrobe,” Caroline called after her, sharing an amused look with her other sister. “Miranda and I sneaked in while you were recovering to have it aired and pressed.”

  Jane spun on her heel. “Does anyone consider that I might have a mind of my own?”

  “Of course you do,” Miranda murmured in a sly voice. “That’s what’s gotten you into all this trouble with Sedgecroft.”

  “She isn’t in trouble with Sedgecroft.” Caroline studied Jane in concern. “Yet.”

  “You really ought to ring for Amelia to do your hair and face,” Miranda said, her eyes dark with worry. “You’ve gone all pale and thin on us.”

  “I have not eaten a thing all week except for a strawberry!” Jane exclaimed, feeling any control she wielded over her life slipping away. “I need sustenance to deal wit
h that man. Did that occur to His Wickedness?”

  Caroline bit her lip to suppress a smile. “Actually, it did. He said there will be supper before the dancing. He suggested you eat an apple to hold you. The Austrian chef at Southwick is divine, an absolute genius in the kitchen. Sedgecroft said we must come with an appetite.”

  Jane stared grumpily at her reflection in the mirror. Supper and dancing. An apple. And another round of resisting Sedgecroft. The memory of the arrogant blue-eyed Adonis kissing her made her feel breathless, unsteady on her feet. He was relentless in his pursuit of pleasure, and her own sense of guilty doom would ruin what could have been an enchanted evening. Why couldn’t her parents have pursued Grayson as a son-in-law in the first place?

  “What if I don’t wish to go?” she said to no one in particular. “I’m sure no one will find my absence remarkable under the circumstances.”

  At that precise moment footsteps rang outside in the hall, and Lady Belshire popped her head into the room. Her silver-brown hair was elegantly upswept and studded with diamond pins. The gold taffeta gown that displayed her youthful figure sparkled like stardust in the false twilight.

  “Not ready yet, darling? Goodness, why are the three of you whispering in the dark? It makes me think of naughty little mice in a nursery.”

  “Miranda and I are ready, Mama,” Caroline said.

  “Well, do hurry, Jane,” Lady Belshire said breathlessly, adjusting her fichu. “Sedgecroft just arrived, dressed to the teeth. I must admit he cuts a fine figure. I daresay the pair of you will cause a stir.”

  “Lovely,” Jane muttered. “Just what I need, to cause another stir.”

  Lady Belshire gave a deep sigh of despair, looking like a crestfallen elfin queen at her eldest’s mutinous remark. Of course Jane’s morose spirits had absolutely nothing to do with the adorable marquess, whom Athena had obviously misjudged. The sad truth was that Jane would not forget her beloved Nigel in only a few days, and the best her family could do was distract her and prove that her young life was not over.

  “When you talk in such an inappropriate manner, I could murder Nigel for what he has done. But you must remember the Belshire name, my dear.” Her ladyship took a deep breath, pleased at how she had decided to handle this. “And now you have Sedgecroft on your side.”

  “Sedgecroft,” Jane said, subsiding on the bed with a groan.

  “A young lady could not ask for a better champion,” Lady Belshire added, forgetting that she herself had thought him an irresponsible rake only a short time ago. But then what did it matter if he applied all that . . . overwhelming maleness to helping her daughter out of this disgrace? “In fact,” she thought aloud, “I shudder to think what he will do when he finds Nigel.”

  “Don’t we all,” Miranda said under her breath as her mother disappeared from the doorway.

  Chapter 13

  By that evening the papers had posed a provocative twist to the Boscastle wedding scandal: Had Sir N jilted Lady J, or had he been threatened off by the dominant branch of the family? Had a certain marquess been waiting in the wings to make a move? Or had this handsome plotter set the stage to begin with?

  It posed a mystery as to when this drama had actually started. Or how it would all end. Why were Lady J’s parents so outwardly accepting of this affair? Had Sir N vanished from the face of the earth entirely? And, the most provocative question of all, Was another marriage between these two illustrious families in the offing?

  Within hours the ton could talk of nothing else. Conversation stopped at Southwick House when the crowd spotted Grayson and Jane together, although she wasn’t convinced it was her audacity to appear in public repeatedly after her failed wedding as much as Sedgecroft’s popularity that created a reaction.

  The ladies definitely had their eye on her attractive escort. His lean elegance and unhurried stride as they crossed the reception hall turned heads and had fans fluttering all over the place.

  Grayson had a different perspective on the furor their appearance caused.

  Yes, he noticed that people were watching them. Especially the men, and the barely veiled desire in their eyes confirmed his fear that Lady Jane Jilt would be targeted as an easy female.

  But the heated looks sent her way died out the moment Grayson turned his crushing glare upon the men who dared to demean her. Then there were averted glances, whispered questions, shrugs of resignation. No one had the courage to challenge Sedgecroft, neither in word nor action. His easygoing temperament had earned him few enemies, but his loyalty to those he loved was well known.

  He’d seen the papers naturally. He was not at all bothered by the speculation that he was courting Jane as a potential bride. As Lady Belshire had predicted, this seemed to be raising Jane’s social value, and Grayson was glad to be of service. In fact, he’d instructed his secretary to neither deny nor confirm when questions were asked.

  An enigmatic smile would suffice.

  Weary of his status as a scoundrel, Grayson did not care if the ton believed he was considering Jane as his wife. They were a plausible match. What did it matter if anyone thought he was behind the wedding scandal?

  Let them label him the devil.

  In fact, if he’d met Jane a few months earlier, he . . . he what? A thoughtful frown overshadowed his face. They probably had attended several affairs at the same time before.

  Yet their paths had never crossed. Why not? In the mists of memory he saw Nigel huddled around her, protecting her from rogues like Grayson so that he could hurt her later himself. Which reminded him that he had received word from Heath only two hours ago about Nigel’s disappearance and needed a private moment to deliver it to Jane. He hated to spoil a pleasant evening, but she had a right to know the truth about his cousin.

  “The damn idiot,” he muttered.

  Jane glanced up at him, her face startled. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. Have a good time.”

  “How?” she whispered, gazing around at the crush of guests crowding the candlelit room. “This is absolute torture for me.”

  “No one will bother you with me here. Ignore them.”

  “Are you always so blindly arrogant?”

  “I believe so,” he said, moving instinctively closer to her. It would remain a mystery to him until his dying day how bright young women like Jane and Chloe could be so easily damaged by the opinions of virtual strangers.

  He drew a breath as a passing guest inadvertently bumped them into each other. His body ignited with desire at the all-too-brief feel of the side of her breast, the arch of her elbow against him. He ached to know then and there what she looked like beneath that pale rose gown, what color her skin was in all the secret places. He wanted her in his bed so badly he had to clench his jaw to stop from pulling her into his arms.

  He glanced away, perplexed that he could entertain such potent thoughts of seducing a woman he claimed to befriend. But the hidden shadows of her sexuality unsettled him a little more every time he saw her. Or was it her character that drew him to her? How peculiar he could not tell. One trait only enhanced the other, he supposed.

  He glanced back at her. She looked so utterly miserable that he had to laugh. “Are you always this resistant to enjoying yourself?”

  “How am I supposed to enjoy myself?”

  “You dance a little. You drink a little.” He motioned to a footman to bring Jane a glass of champagne. “You talk to me. And,” he added lightly, his large body shielding hers, “since we’re here, we may as well try to make the best of it.”

  She smiled up at him, and he felt another reckless urge to grasp her hand and carry her out of this place to have her to himself. Just riding in the carriage with her tonight had put him in the mood for a night of lovemaking. Of course, she was the one female in the world he couldn’t own, which might have something to do with the fact he wanted to debauch her up and down.

  And now he was going to distress her further by revealing what Heath’s brief message had sa
id. He was going to make her cry by explaining that it appeared Nigel had planned his escape in advance. Ah, well, let her have an hour of enjoyment before he broke the news and ruined the evening.

  As it turned out, he rather liked making Jane laugh. He liked irritating her, too, only a little, just enough to watch those green eyes of hers ignite with so many interesting emotions. It probably wasn’t nice to do, but those demons of his couldn’t seem to resist her. His demons were drawn to Jane in a very mystifying way.

  Jane searched the crowds of elegantly dressed guests for sign of her sisters until she felt Grayson gently turn her back toward him.

  “Are you looking for Nigel?” he asked her.

  “For—oh, no.” Her throat closed on the words.

  “Don’t worry.” His mouth flattened. “I’m sure in due time he will answer to us both. I shall derive personal satisfaction from meeting my cousin again.”

  Her eyes darkened at the merciless determination on his face. Pray God she wasn’t going to answer to Grayson any time soon. “I’m not so sure of that,” she murmured.

  “Unless he’s dead,” he added, sounding rather wishful.

  “I—I hope he isn’t dead.”

  “Ah, yes.” There was a trace of disapproval in his low voice. “You love him, as incredible as I begin to find the notion.”

  In a manner of speaking, she did love Nigel. In the same fond way she loved Simon or Uncle Giles, or the family dogs. “I have known Nigel forever. He put a frog in my cradle four days after I was born, or so the story goes. We were inseparable as children.”

  “Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

  “Gone? Well, he mentioned Scotland once or twice.” As in the last barbarous place on earth he would visit. Nigel was the type to sit in an armchair in front of a fire for the rest of his life. Oh, Jane absolutely despised being so dishonest.

  “Scotland?” Grayson frowned. “Strange. But I shall pass that information on to Heath.”

  She felt an icy chill slide down her spine. “Why?”