The Seduction of an English Scoundrel (12 page)

“Join your brother,” he ordered gently, glancing over her head at the throngs of people on the lawn. “Have him take care of you while I'm gone.”

“Since he's done such a good job as my chaperone until now, you mean?”

His gaze returned to her face. “Perhaps I should ask you to watch over him. You seem to be the more responsible one.”

“Not in some matters,” she murmured.

“What happened in the pavilion wasn't your fault. It was mine.”

“Despite everything,” Jane said in an undertone, “I find it impossible to stay angry with you. I suppose it is a waste of breath to correct a man who believes himself superior to the world in general.” She paused, sighing in chagrin. “Go and make amends to your sister. I shall be fine, but do attempt not to lose your temper again.”

“You try controlling the Boscastle clan in a normal temper,” he said as he steered her back to the path. “On Christmas Day in our family one practically has to hang from the chandelier to get a moment's attention.”

“So Nigel told me.”

They were on the verge of the lawn now, the breakfast tables only a foot or so from them. Simon and Damaris were drifting away. Grayson cast a fierce look at the groups of young bucks who were pretending not to stare at Jane. This, he supposed, was what reform had done to him. Protecting desirable young women from games he'd once played only too well himself. Games he wouldn't mind playing with her now, for that matter.

“One more thing,” he said carefully. “I notice how often Nigel enters our conversations, which is perfectly understandable, but I think you need to accept the fact that if he doesn't return to make things right in the next week or so, he might not return at all.”

“I realize that,” she said, managing to avoid his eyes. “I am . . . quite resigned.”

“There's no need to resign yourself to anything yet.” Perhaps he had been too blunt. “We'll find another husband for you.”

“But I don't want— Oh, look. There's my friend Cecily waving to me from the last table. I'll be safe enough with her, don't you think?”

Safe from me? he wondered, his smile ironic. Had he frightened her off? Would she forgive him? It might be better all the way around if she didn't. The feelings she provoked in him were unfamiliar, more than just a challenge to his self-control.

She bustled away before he could respond, and his gaze became reflective as he watched her melt into the small crowd of young women who turned to her in welcome. For a silly moment he felt tempted to tell her to be careful. But she had stood up to him on Chloe's behalf and walked away none the worse for it. Again he marveled at Nigel's stupidity in letting her go. There were mysteries to Jane that the dimwit had obviously never detected.

Chapter 10

The old saying popped into her mind again: Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Still a little dazed from her experience with Sedgecroft, she found herself smothered in the circle of four chattering young women. She wondered if they had any idea of how warm her face felt, if they could tell her lips were still tingling from his kisses.

Of course they all knew what had happened to her yesterday. Her dearest friend, the Honorable Cecily Brunsdale, a viscount's daughter, had been one of her bridesmaids, an eyewitness to the fiasco. Jane did not know what reaction to expect from the others.

Sympathy, embarrassment, the generous courtesy of pretending the awful event had never occurred?

What she did not count on was their fleeting interest in her failed attempt at marriage. Yes, they acknowledged her loss, but only for a moment or so. That was yesterday's news, worthy of their pity, a few well-meaning if insincere smiles. Far more interesting to these four social butterflies were the details of her deliciously surprising romance with the widely adored Marquess of Sedgecroft.

“Romance?” she said blankly at their insistent barrage of questions. Now her face felt on fire. “What makes you think I am having a romance with him?”

“What else would it be?” one of them murmured.

“A woman does not walk into a room with Sedgecroft without falling prey to his charm,” said Miss Priscilla Armstrong, a self-proclaimed expert on such matters after three uneventful Seasons.

Cecily, a slim ash-blonde with clear gray eyes, leapt immediately to Jane's defense. “Need I remind you, Priscilla, that Sedgecroft is Nigel's cousin. It is his duty to stand in for him as her companion until Nigel . . .”

Until Nigel did what? everyone wondered, looking at Jane in wide-eyed anticipation for a hint as to what one might expect.

But she stubbornly resisted revealing anything else, heeding Grayson's warning that a little mystery would only make her more alluring to the ton. Not that she wished to be alluring. She did wish, however, not to cross Sedgecroft. If his behavior in the past twenty-four hours was an example of his single-minded persistence, she had no desire to arouse his anger. Goodness, he was more than she could deal with as a friend, let alone as an enemy.

“I have nothing more to say on the subject,” she said with a distress that was becoming more genuine by the hour.

But the four other women hardly noticed; they were listening raptly to Miss Evelyn Hutchinson's opinion on the subject of Sedgecroft, a man she had obviously been observing and analyzing with academic fervor for quite some time.

“You do know what the maid of his former mistress said?”

“Which one?” asked Lady Alice Pfeiffer, showing herself to be not exactly ignorant on the subject herself.

“Mrs. Parks,” Evelyn replied.

“Tell us,” Priscilla ordered. “Jane has a right to know.”

“Well, I—”

“You should know the truth,” Cecily said quietly.

Jane wasn't sure she wanted to know the truth. She craned her neck, unconsciously scanning the crowd for a sign of her powerful blue-eyed troublemaker. She hoped he wasn't scolding his spirited sister again. Jane felt drawn to Chloe's passion for life and sensed a wounded heart beneath the rebellion. Lord, would she herself ever be the object of his lionlike fury? Yes, if he found out what an accomplished schemestress she was.

Evelyn pressed her fan to her chin. “Mrs. Parks was overheard confiding that one night with Sedgecroft was a bacchanalian orgy to the female senses.”

Jane blinked, her attention diverted. “I'm sure you misunderstood.” Although she could well believe it.

Evelyn nodded slyly. “She also said that a woman had best not plan to ride in the park for at least a fortnight after.”

“Oh, honestly!” Cecily exclaimed disapprovingly while the other women digested this fascinating tidbit of gossip in delight. “That is not exactly the sort of revelation I had in mind when I encouraged you. “

“And,” Evelyn added, “he reads the morning paper while he carries on certain physical
activities
with his paramours.”

Priscilla leaned forward, her lips parting. “He carries on these activities in the
morning
?”

“Morning, noon, and night,” Evelyn said knowingly. “He indulges a woman's every whim.”

Several deep sighs heralded the silence that fell until Evelyn felt compelled to continue.

“To spend time in his company is to fall under his spell. Sedgecroft is a man of deliberation. Once he makes his move, that is the end.”

“The end of what?” Jane demanded, the hair on her nape prickling.

“The end of virtue. The start of vice. He has already initiated his strategy long before his victim realizes what has happened.”

Cecily frowned in warning. “That is enough, Evelyn.”

“Not that any woman he loves would consider herself a victim,” Evelyn said as an afterthought. “A treasure is more apt.”

Another silence descended.

Jane found an opening in the circle and broke away, having experienced enough of Sedgecroft's prowess for one day.

“Excuse me, won't you? I think my brother is summoning me.”

Cecily hurried after her, speaking in a soft apologetic whisper. “I came to see you last night, but your parents had you under guard. How are you ever going to survive this, Jane?”

Jane stared across the green expanse of the park. Cecily was one of her oldest confidantes, almost as close to her as Caroline and Miranda. At age three Cecily had announced to an entire church congregation that she had caught the vicar in the wine pantry with her aunt. At age five Cecily had cut off all her lustrous hip-length hair to play Robin Hood with her brothers. At eleven she committed the same offense because she planned to run away in disguise and become a jockey.

No wonder Jane adored her. Cecily had backbone, and she actually loved the young duke she was about to marry. But not even her dear friend knew about Jane and Nigel's scheme to thwart the course of their untrue love.

Which was why Jane wished she could be honest when Cecily took her by the hand and whispered, “I was sick with worry over you. If I'd had a gun, I would have gone after Nigel myself and shot him dead. Believe it or not, I understand exactly how you must feel. It's so brave of you to show your face today, but Jane—is this wise?”

There is a time to be wise, and a time to be wicked.

“The ton is going to talk about me anyway, Cecily. The sooner I face that, the better.”

“I'm not referring to the ton.”

“Then—”

“Sedgecroft.”

“Oh.” Jane's gaze strayed across the lawn to the stunningly handsome figure striding toward her, every muscle moving with effortless grace. Her heart gave a leap as he looked at her. Oh, such a gorgeous monster. With regret she returned her focus to Cecily's anxious face. “I don't think you need to worry about me.”

“Sedgecroft, Jane. The consummate rake.”

“I am simply having breakfast with him. That's all.”

“Sedgecroft doesn't simply ‘have' a meal with a woman,” Cecily said. “Not unless she is the main course.”

Breakfast and bed sport.
Her own words echoed tauntingly in her mind.

“Nonsense,” she said firmly.

Cecily glanced around, aware she did not have her friend's full attention. Her brows rose when she noticed the arresting marquess approaching. “Ah, speak of the devil,” she muttered. “Jane, please,
please,
listen to me. You are in a most vulnerable state. I know how deeply Nigel hurt you, but to link up with Sedgecroft. Well, isn't it a little like walking blindfolded along the edge of a cliff?”

“Hello, Cecily,” Grayson said, gazing down at Jane as he positioned himself between the two women. “How is your father these days? I haven't seen him at the club lately.”

Cecily subjected him to her coolest stare. As one of Chloe's friends, she was all too aware of the lethal Boscastle charm and ever on guard against it. “He is well, thank you. And your family? They all looked hale in the chapel yesterday.”

“Hale and full of hell, if I may use the word.” He glanced from her to Jane, his eyes pinning her with a solicitous concern that she knew was all for show. “Would you like to dance, Jane?”

Cecily stared down pointedly at the hand he had brushed across Jane's shoulder, her lips thinning in disapproval.

Jane shook her head. “Not now, thank you. I—”

“Shall we get some champagne then?” he asked, nudging her ever so subtly away from Cecily.

“Oh, champagne would be lovely,” Cecily said, deliberately refusing to take the hint. “Why don't you run off and fetch us some, Sedgecroft?”

He gave her an ingenuous grin. “But that would mean leaving Jane alone again, and I couldn't be so rude. Why don't you be a dear and find a footman for us? A duchess should practice giving orders, don't you think?”

Jane lowered her gaze, afraid she might burst into laughter, if not tears. Oh, the look of shock on Cecily's face! And Sedgecroft was the very devil, provoking her poor friend this way.

Cecily's smile was brittle. “That reminds me, Jane. Hudson and I are riding in the park Tuesday afternoon with his nieces and nephews. You will come with us?”

Grayson smiled back at her. “We'd love to, wouldn't we, Jane?”

Cecily's mouth dropped open. “I meant—”

“I haven't spent time with Hudson since we went shooting in the Highlands,” he went on. “Perhaps the four of us could attend the opera later in the week.”

Cecily did not know what to make of this. Sedgecroft was as arrogant as they came, and the worst thing was, Hudson
did
like the marquess. He had mentioned on countless occasions that he enjoyed Sedgecroft, a real man's man if ever there was one. But what were his intentions toward her friend? Was it possible he had an ounce of honor in him?

“On second thought, do you really think Jane should resume an active social life this soon after . . . well, after yesterday?” she asked in a strained voice.

He smiled blandly, turning Jane in the other direction as if to protect her. “I think I can take good care of Jane, although I admire your loyalty during these, let us say, awkward times. And now before we leave, the two of us will fetch that champagne for you, Cecily. You do look as if you could use some fortification.”

“Couldn't we all?” Jane asked in an undertone, gazing over her shoulder at her dumbfounded friend.

A few minutes later they had made their farewells, located Simon, and Jane was whisked from the party by her handsome companion without another bite of food.

“Sedgecroft, your treatment of Cecily was so . . . so . . .”

“There's no need to keep thanking me,” he murmured as he escorted her forcefully to his carriage. “Your gratitude is understood.”

“Is it, Sedgecroft? I cannot tell you what a relief that is to me.”

He paused, pursing his lips. “Far be it from me to criticize anyone's behavior outside my family, but I do start to wonder, Jane, whether this tendency of yours to be a little tart of tongue did not intimidate my cousin.”

Jane had no idea how to react.

He looked uncomfortable. “I shouldn't have spoken. I happen to find this tendency appealing myself.”

Appealing. Her standing up to him. “You what?” she said, finally managing to respond.

“To a degree. I'm sorry I brought up the subject.” He gave her a penitent grin. “I'm also sorry if I seemed inattentive today.”

Jane turned away, again thunderstruck. Any more of his attention, and she would have melted in her slippers.

His deep voice over her shoulder gave her another jolt. “It's all this rebellion of Chloe's,” he confessed, revealing what was obviously weighing on his mind. “I cannot control her every action, and I fear she is bent on some course of self-destruction. The truth is, I do not generally attend these insipid day affairs. I'm better at night.”

“That isn't what I've heard.”

“Pardon?”

She felt his large body behind her, remembering in embarrassment what Evelyn had said. “It was only gossip,” she said hurriedly. “They said that in the morning—goodness, forget I mentioned it.” Was it true? Did Sedgecroft read the newspaper while he made love?

He followed her closely up the steps into the carriage, his expression mocking. “Don't listen to the gossips, darling.”

She glanced around at her brother standing outside. She was starting to understand how much more there was to this man than met the eye. “What do you mean?”

“Find out the truth for yourself.” He waited for her to sit before he lounged back, his brazen gaze studying her. “If you're curious about my personal habits, all you have to do is ask.”

“I hardly think I would dare.”

“Then you shall never know for yourself.”