The Seduction of an English Scoundrel (4 page)

Chapter 3

Forty-five minutes later Grayson rode through the ornamental gates of the Earl of Belshire's Grosvenor Square home. As his horse was stabled, he noticed that the drapes at the bow windows of the house had been tightly drawn. A morose-looking footman escorted him into one of five formal reception rooms. His own personal visit to Nigel's town house had yielded no helpful clues as to his disappearance.

He stood for several minutes and watched the servants tiptoeing past the door in painstaking silence. Indeed, a pall of profound gloom enshrouded the mansion as if a family member had died unexpectedly. He wondered how the rather impulsive notion that had brought him here would be received. How the jilted bride would feel about his offer to act as her temporary protector, a social proxy for his stupid cousin. With any luck Nigel would appear before Grayson's scheme could be launched. He had no idea how he would go about implementing it, of course. But someone would have to shield her and her family from the inevitable scandal.

As the highest-ranking member of his own family, he supposed that dubious honor had fallen to him. After all, he had the power and popularity to help, and it provided a bit of novelty, being the white knight for a change.

The true surprise of the day was that it had not been
he
who had caused a scandal.

His motives were not entirely unselfish. For one thing, he hoped to avoid having the family name dragged into a lawsuit. For another, he intended to put an end to the self-destructive behavior to which he and his siblings seemed so naturally drawn.

Lord and Lady Belshire seemed somewhat bewildered by his appearance in their drawing room. Lady Belshire had in fact just finished half a bottle of sherry; the earl's graying black hair stood in disarrayed tufts, his neckcloth askew, but other than that he managed to present his usual distinguished self to this unexpected caller.

“Sedgecroft. Have a drink. Have you found the blackguard?”

“Not yet.” Grayson glanced over his shoulder at the two comely young ladies who sat on the sofa pretending to work on their embroidery. The chilly frowns they sent him between stitches could have turned his entire body to stone. As if he by familial association was responsible for their sister's abandonment.

“Heath is gone on that quest and will be discreet,” he added. “If Nigel is alive, he shall be brought back to perform his duty.”

Lady Belshire hiccoughed behind her hand. “I confess I rather hope he's found dead. At least it would be an acceptable excuse for what he did to my daughter today.”

“Rake,” murmured one of the two daughters on the sofa.

“Rogue,” added her sister in a crisp undertone.

Grayson examined them from the corner of his eye. He had the distinct impression they were not referring exclusively to Nigel, although, for God's sake, one could accuse his cousin of many faults, stupidity being foremost. But Nigel had never been known for his womanizing skills.

Which made it all the more disturbing that the nodcock had left a beauty like Lady Jane at the altar. But then perhaps her elegant dignity had frightened off the fool. Perhaps, for all Grayson knew, Nigel had run off with a man. Stranger things had happened. Take him, for example, trying to repair a wrong he hadn't done.

He frowned, glancing back to the earl who had collapsed in an armchair, a fat spaniel positioned on his lap. “I would like to speak to your daughter, Belshire. In private, if you please. Someone has to make amends in the Boscastle name.”

Grayson had no intention of asking Belshire's permission for what else he had in mind until he presented his plan to the jilted bride. If Jane objected, well, at least he could say he had tried. There was no point in taking his scheme to her parents. Neither Athena nor Howard looked capable of decision making at the moment, emotionally crushed by the day's unprecedented disaster.

The two young women on the sofa rose in a surge of sisterly support. Grayson studied them. One possessed mahogany-gold hair, the other was a fetching brunette. Good looks certainly seemed to run in the females of this family.

As did a rather disconcerting self-assurance.

“What do you want to see Jane for?” demanded the darker-haired sister.

The other added, “She is hardly in the mood for a social call, considering what your cousin did to her today.”

“I understand that,” he said smoothly.

“I doubt she will see you,” the brunette said.

Grayson shrugged. He had a feeling she was mistaken. “It doesn't hurt to try.”

“Your appearance here is bad timing, Sedgecroft,” Lord Belshire said irritably. “Perhaps you could make your apologies to her at a later date.”

“When one falls off a horse,” Grayson said guardedly. “one is best advised to remount immediately.”

Lady Belshire plunked her sherry glass down on the side table, her eyes glittering with interest. “What sort of remounting are we discussing, Sedgecroft?”

Grayson hesitated, choosing his words with care lest his offer be misinterpreted. “The worst thing your daughter can do is to remove herself from Society. In the event Nigel is not brought around, she will want to attract another husband.” Preferably, he thought, one with half a brain to appreciate what his cousin had so mysteriously discarded.

“Are you offering to marry my sister?” the taller of the two other women asked in a tone halfway between hope and horror.

“No,” he said quickly, horrified himself at the thought. “I am not. It is my intention to help relaunch her back into Society as soon as possible. The longer she waits, the harder it will be to make her return.”

“He does have a point, Howard,” Lady Belshire murmured. “If Jane withdraws indefinitely, she will drift into spinsterhood and eventually cease to exist. And Sedgecroft is well considered in Society.”

The earl clapped his vinegar cloth back onto his forehead. “Oh, what the devil, Sedgecroft. Do what you can to help her. Jane hasn't spoken a civil word to me in months. She expressed doubts about marrying Nigel, but did I listen? I thought they secretly adored each other. You young people today are entirely too—oh, blast. What do I know of love?”

“What does anyone know?” Grayson murmured, turning to find the two sisters gazing at him as if he had suddenly sprouted horns and a forked tail.

“How long do you think this . . . relaunching will take?” Lady Belshire asked.

Grayson shrugged his broad shoulders. “Not long. I intend to squire Jane around town only until she begins to attract the serious interest of a few acceptable suitors. In time, I would hope she would recover enough to return to her previous life.”

“The fact that a marquess finds her desirable will certainly pique the ton's interest,” Athena said with a thoughtful frown. “I do see potential in this, Sedgecroft. It is decent of you to consider her future. Without help, Jane is likely to become a lost cause.”

“I mean to set an example for the rest of my family,” he replied. Although God knew that such self-sacrifice did not come naturally to him. Nor did the complications of even a superficial courtship. “I might not have ever asked a woman to meet me at the altar,” he said, “but I have never left one standing there either. I am not utterly without morals, as a few people seem to believe.”

Lord Belshire cracked open one eye. “Setting an example is all well and good, my friend, but I do have one minor reservation. You have a bit of a rake's reputation.”

“A bit?” both sisters cried in unison.

“Which could make him all the more attractive a suitor for Jane,” Lady Belshire said thoughtfully. “Only a woman of considerable charm can attract the attention of a man like Sedgecroft. It might not hurt your poor sister to be thought of in such terms. Perhaps it would even raise her social value, which has sunk to an appalling low after today.”

Lord Belshire pursed his lips. “And how does being squired around by a rake—excuse me again, Sedgecroft—enhance Jane's reputation?”

His wife shook her head in resignation. “I do not know that her reputation can ever be repaired. Our only hope is that in time she will meet a young man to whom her scandal does not matter.”

Grayson smiled at her. “Precisely my thought. We cannot undo what has been done.”

Athena smiled back at him. “But we can detract from it.”

Lord Belshire grunted. “What does my opinion matter? Ask her yourself, Sedgecroft. She's languishing in the Red Gallery with all those hideous Roman statues. But do not be surprised if she refuses your offer. She's a strong-minded minx.”

Grayson turned to the door, smiling to himself at the warning. Of course he would be surprised if she refused. No female had ever turned down a Boscastle male when he set his mind on her. After all, he was making a gesture that would benefit both of them. What could be the harm in that?

Chapter 4

The gallery stretched across the second floor, a vast sunlit room decorated with red silk hangings and a collection of priceless Italian statues. An entire wall boasted an ornately carved marble chimneypiece, beneath which sat a fireplace large enough to house a family of four. No fire had been lit within. Several shredded letters had been tossed onto the grate, apparently ready to burn.

Jane reclined on a tufted crimson couch in the corner, a half-eaten hothouse peach in one hand. A portfolio of old letters lay across her lap.

Love letters, Grayson thought as he stood in the doorway, temporarily distracted from his task by the languid sensuality of her pose. She must have been pouring over the insipid poetry of Nigel's that he'd sent her through the years. One pale arm was bent at an angle to support her head, a position that thrust her ripe breasts out into an enticing silhouette. Her bare feet dangled over the opposite arm of the couch. The heartbroken beauty had not changed out of her wedding gown.

He took his time to study her in this unguarded moment. Her eyes were closed, silky black eyelashes casting shadows on her finely boned cheeks; her slender toes flexed and unflexed as if she were striving to relax. Coils of lustrous honey-hued hair tumbled over her shoulders to the floor. Grayson imagined burying his face in that hair, shaping her curves with his hands. The unexpected fantasy warmed his blood.

To think that Nigel could be enjoying all that sensual potential in his bed. What an utter moron. But then Grayson did not know her at all. Perhaps she had some hidden defect—well, it would have to be very well hidden. He felt the dangerous stirrings of desire just standing here.

“May I disturb you for a few moments?”

That deep voice wrenched Jane out of her trance. She sat up so abruptly that the letters fluttered from her lap to the floor. The afternoon sun, the tension of the morning had made her drowsy. She'd been daydreaming, wondering how to implement the next phase of her plan.

She had been contemplating the delicious freedom that Nigel had granted her.

The freedom to choose her own mate. To flirt to her heart's content. To fall deeply in love as dear Nigel had been with his governess. Or to
not
fall in love and marry if the perfect man failed to appear.

She had been daydreaming about what it would be like to experience true passion for herself, the sort of horrible, impulsive, tingle-from-head-to-toe sweeping passion, when that dark voice had disturbed her.

Her heart began to thunder with accountable anticipation. A vaguely familiar shadow fell across the corner where she had reclined in a daze of self-congratulatory contentment.

A shadow she remembered from the chapel with a shiver of foreboding. No! It couldn't possibly be. Not here, in her home, her haven—

“Lord Sedgecroft, this is an . . . an unexpected pleasure.”

“Unexpected pleasure” did not even begin to describe the unsettling sensations that his appearance evoked. The sunlight played across the chiseled planes of his face and caught the burnished wheat gold glints in his hair like an artist's brush.

And his physique—well, that broad-shouldered torso and lean body so superbly displayed in a charcoal jacket and snug black pantaloons put the statues of the Roman gods that surrounded them to shame.

She slid to her feet, realizing belatedly that she looked nothing like a corresponding goddess. There was a bright spot of peach juice on her skirt. She'd stuffed her stockings under a cushion. And what could he be doing here? Her throat went dry. The devil could not possibly have found out about Nigel's secret marriage already, could he?

“Can I do something to help you, my lord?” she asked quietly, sweeping all her concerns under a demure demeanor.

He took her elbow, guiding her back a step. “It is I who have come to help
you.
”

Jane plopped back down onto the couch, too astonished to dissemble. He followed, his movement far more graceful than her shocked
thunk.
His physical presence quite overpowered her, his heavy thigh pressed against her knee, and she could not imagine that her papa had sent him up here to . . . to what?

“I'm not sure I understand.”

“This whole affair must be extremely upsetting to you.”

“Quite.” Although not as upsetting as marrying Nigel would have been.

“I have to admit I admired your composure today.”

If he'd had any real understanding of what she was truly composed of, Jane doubted this conversation would be taking place. “Thank you.”

“It must have been difficult.”

“You have no idea.” Intriguing. He seemed quite nice, actually. What could he be trying to say?

“To have everyone staring at you,” he said, shaking his head in sympathy.

“I hardly noticed.”

“To have everyone whispering while you stood there in utter humiliation.”

“It wasn't pleasant, but I am still alive.”

He tsked. “To be the object of universal disgrace. Of mockery. Of pity.”

Jane stared at him with an admonishing frown. “Is this meant to make me feel better?”

“One must face facts.”

Why? she wanted to ask, but she was too drawn into this drama to disagree. It was difficult to deal with him when she had no idea of his intentions. “Yes. One must.”

“One must pay a price for humiliating a young woman.”

“Yes, one—what sort of price are we talking about?” she asked a trifle impatiently.

“Leave that to me. Know only that Nigel shall answer for what he did to you.”

“Perhaps he had an excuse.”

“Don't you dare defend the miserable little bugger to me.”

Jane coughed. “Language, my lord.”

“Excuse me. Sometimes my passions overcome me.”

“Of course,” she murmured. She had heard more than once about those passions of his, but had certainly never envisioned herself the recipient of them.

He peeled off his gray leather riding gloves. “You are aware that the papers will carry every embarrassing detail of the day's event?”

Jane hesitated, distracted by the sight of his strong elegant hands. This distraction paled, however, compared to the shock she felt when one of those strong hands engulfed hers. “Papers—what—mercy, what are you doing?”

He gave her fingers what she supposed was meant to be a reassuring squeeze. Instead, the most potent flush of pleasure spread in hot rivulets through her body. “The papers will say that another Boscastle rake has broken a lady's heart,” he mused. “Much will be made of the fact that my former mistresses flanked me in the chapel.”

Jane lifted her brow in delicate reproach, as if to say, Well, no wonder. But in light of the fact she had botched her own marriage, and his thumb was rubbing her knuckles in such a pleasantly disconcerting manner, she decided to hold her tongue.

He sighed. “Right now one of my brothers is resting from the fistfight he instigated during the wedding breakfast over a demirep.”

“Oh, dear.” Every time his blue eyes looked into hers, the queerest flutters went off in the pit of her belly. She was drifting—into something indefinable, as if magical wings had been attached to her wrists and ankles, lifting her into a dark warm fog.

“My sister Chloe is talking about becoming a Continental courtesan,” he added.

“No? Not really?” Jane remembered a gorgeous raven-haired young girl who devoted herself to numerous charities.

No, he thought. Probably not really. But Grayson had a point to make and a little embellishment of the truth would not hurt when he basically had Jane's best interests at heart. To think Nigel could be bedding this interesting beauty at this very moment. Grayson had never met anyone quite like her. She had the softest hands, and that wedding dress, all wrinkled and lacy, should have made her look demure, but it produced the opposite effect on him. The devil in him would have dearly loved to learn what that lace concealed.

“Devon, another brother of mine, has gone off with his useless friends in search of pirate treasure,” he said darkly.

“Pirate treasure?” Jane was not quite able to suppress a smile at the charming but frivolous notion; he caught it and smiled back.

“I suppose we've earned our reputation,” he admitted, “although for the most part our sins have not been irredeemable. Until what Nigel did today. Never have we humiliated a young lady on purpose.”

Jane was drifting higher into that undefinable stratosphere, completely spellbound by this devilishly attractive man. What could he possibly be leading to? Rogues like Sedgecroft lurked beyond the social circle of proper young women like Jane, even if they did arouse a certain curiosity.

Nigel had constantly cautioned her to avoid the other Boscastle boys, and Nigel had been her best friend. Naturally she had not questioned his advice. In fact, she had always believed herself clever enough to resist seduction. But then no truly appealing man had ever tried to seduce her before. Was this . . . an appallingly flattering thought crossed her mind.

“Do you mean to seduce me?” she asked in a serious voice.

“Of course not.”

“Oh. No. Of course not.”

His blue eyes sparkled with wicked amusement. “Don't look offended. I actually meant to compliment you. Learning about how cruel the world can be is a lesson that does not come easily to any of us, but you received quite an education today. Darling, if this were a seduction, we would not be sitting here holding hands.”

Exactly what
would
they be doing if a classic Boscastle seduction were under way? Jane wondered. The answers to that intriguing question would certainly keep her up until the wee small hours. She had quite a fertile imagination, and Sedgecroft could nourish it for several months.

“Lord Sedgecroft, if this is not a seduction,” she said, in as polite a tone as possible, “then precisely what is it? Another personal apology from your family?”

“That. And more.” He raised her hands to his chin, his smile warm and more than a little naughty. “It is a proposition.”

“A proposition.”

“No. Not what you are thinking. I understand how you feel after the humiliation you suffered today. Never have I felt more embarrassed by my family.” Never in truth, had he actually paid much notice to the sins the other members of his family were committing. He had heretofore been too busy sinning himself.

“Let me be blunt, Jane.”

“I'm afraid I cannot stop you.”

“A woman in your unfortunate position is in danger of becoming a pariah. It would take a man of character to marry you today. A man strong enough to ignore the opinions of others. I am not saying that such a man does not exist, but they are few and far between.”

Her cheeks flushed pink with annoyance. He had just described the man of her dreams, the man she would probably never find in the shallow waters of Society. She wondered if he even existed, or if she would die of loneliness waiting for him to appear. “Well, it was hardly all my fault.”

“Exactly. Which is why
you
should not be punished, and why I intend to court you, ostensibly, that is, to prove to the world you are still a desirable, eligible female.”

Jane was rendered speechless. What a cruel, unanticipated coil. Of course, she had foreseen a spell of social ostracism after being jilted today. She had expected to be mocked, to be pitied, to be ignored for quite some time.

But that a notorious scoundrel like Sedgecroft would take up her cause? That this indecently handsome man would sponsor her return to the marriage mart she had schemed to escape? It was the last thing in the world she'd imagined. It was both horribly conceited and endearing of him to suggest such a thing. To offer to protect her from the results of her own machinations. How did one react?

“I realize this is a shock.” His blue eyes teased her. “Do you find me too unattractive for our ‘courtship'?”

Oh, he had no idea. She found him so devastatingly attractive she could barely think straight. Which in Jane's point of view did present a problem. “Well, you are rather, well—”

“More experienced than you?”

“Among other things,” she murmured.

He edged closer to her, squeezing her hands in encouragement. “My experience will only prove to your advantage.”

“Why do I doubt that statement?”

“I know all the games of love that are played in our world, Jane,” he said, gazing into her eyes.

“I'm sure you do.”

“If Nigel does not return to make this situation right, I will help you find another young man who will. I shall investigate him personally before giving him my approval.” He winked at her, affecting a friendly tone. “The personal Boscastle seal, hmm?”

The
very
last thing she wanted, another matchmaker to bedevil her life. She cleared her throat, searching for words to thwart this undesirable conspiracy. “This is too kind of you, but—”