The Seduction of an English Scoundrel (13 page)

“Perhaps in some instances, one is better off remaining blissfully ignorant.”

“But not you, Jane.” He nudged his shoulder playfully against hers. “I have a feeling your curiosity has not begun to be sated.”

Chapter 11

Jane locked herself in her room as soon as she arrived home, ignoring her sisters' barrage of curious questions. She needed to ponder. Of course all she could ponder was Grayson. In leisurely detail. When they were together, her brain ceased all but its most basic functions.

She would have thought less of him today had she not been so strangely touched by all the emotions he revealed when he had shouted at his sister. The love and sheer panic of a man who was finally realizing that he could not control the world.

Pompous Grayson. He meant well, even if his heavy-handed methods left something to be desired. She did not understand why she felt so at ease with him. Perhaps because he was not easily shocked by the things she said, and she had done a very shocking thing.

Would her secret shock him?

Probably—if his treatment of Chloe were any indication. Even his liberal standards apparently extended only to the male prerogative for misbehavior.

But no matter what happened in the end, for this moment he made her feel valued, and no one, except her dogs, had ever seemed to value Jane for herself.

Except that Grayson
didn't
know who she really was. Or what she had done. What would he think if the truth were revealed?

 

As surprisingly enjoyable as the day spent with Jane had proven, Grayson did not look forward to the inevitable confrontation with Chloe that same evening. Of all his siblings his younger sister was the one he worried about and collided with the most. Possibly because in too many ways they were alike.

Arrogant. Adventurous. Always taking up lost causes.

Attracted to trouble. Determined to have their own way and damn the consequences.

He paused outside her bedroom door, bracing himself for another battle. At times like this he wished their spine-of-steel sister Emma were here to do the honors. Or even Heath, whose gentle intensity seemed to disarm women quite effectively. Having Jane at his side would help, even if she scolded him afterward. Grayson realized that in personal matters he possessed all the tact of a battering ram. But there were certain issues on which one must stand firm. He was the head of the family whether he liked it or not. He would be obeyed.

Why did Chloe defy him at every turn?

What was he going to do about her?

He opened the door. He had no inkling of what to say.

She was seated at her desk, her wavy black hair spread across her shoulders like a raven's wing. She looked young and vulnerable but grown up at the same time. She stiffened her back as he entered the room, but did not turn around. “Ah, my gaoler appears,” she said. “Please leave the bread and water by the door.”

“Chloe.”

“Grayson.”

He started to speak, then paused as he noticed a sketch of Brandon sitting on her desk. Brandon had been the baby of the family and Chloe's fervent champion as well as partner in childhood mischief. His death, on top of their father's, had devastated her at a time when she should have been preparing herself for marriage.

Once again he blamed himself for not being with his father and Chloe when they received word that Brandon had been killed. For months Royden Boscastle had been begging his eldest son to come to their country home for a week of hunting and entertaining old friends. Grayson had put him off and promised to come at a later date, not realizing that time was running out for their reunion.

Had Royden Boscastle had a premonition of his death? Grayson could not help wondering whether his father would have survived if he'd been at his side to soften the blow of Brandon's murder. Chloe and their father had been alone when the letter came, and she'd held him in her arms, helpless and afraid, as he died. The shock and sadness had changed her.

“What did you think you were doing today?” he asked her quietly.

“I do not want to discuss it.”

He sat on the edge of her chaise. “Chloe, turn around and talk to me. We
will
discuss this.”

She hesitated, then turned, her blue eyes cold . . . and wounded. He sighed, his heart aching for her.

“What did you expect me to do?” he asked in chagrin. “He was a soldier, for the love of God.”

Her pen tapped the desk. “So, if I had been kissing a duke, you would have granted your approval?”

“Of course not,” he retorted. “But at least someone of your own class, well, if you really were in love, marriage would have been an option. I'd never even seen him before.”

Her white teeth worried the edge of her bottom lip. “And what did you intend to gain by bringing Jane along to witness my disgrace?”

“Jane defended you, actually.”

“Someone ought to defend her against you,” she burst out, the blue eyes so like his full of fire.

He drew a breath, allowing the insult to die unchallenged. “Chloe, you can't tell me that you really love that young man.”

“I might.”

He shook his head in chagrin. “I don't like this wild turn you have taken. Nor do I approve of your work at the Foundling Hospital and the Female Penitentiary for that matter, with ruined young women and whores.”

“Nobody cares about them, Grayson,” she said, her voice underscored with passion. “They have no parents to watch over them.”

No parents. Was her sense of loss so acute, so pervasive, that she felt more at home with these anguished beings than her own family?

“I care about you, Chloe,” he said in bewilderment. “All of us do.”

“Then allow me to live my life as I please.”

“Not until what pleases you meets my approval.” He rose, his large hands buried in his pockets as he began to pace behind her. “Perhaps we should find you a husband. I don't know. Someone Papa would have chosen.”

A flicker of pain darkened her blue eyes and was masked before he could decipher it. “Papa would have let me choose for myself.”

“We both know that's a lie,” he said quickly. “He was a tyrant, Chloe, as much as we loved him. He could be quite hurtful at times.”

She came to her feet, her cheeks flushed, her voice distressed. “Don't say that.”

“Well, it's true. It doesn't mean I didn't love him. Or that I don't miss him as much as you.”

“I want to go to Nepal,” she said unexpectedly.

“What?” he said in astonishment.

“I want to find Brandon's body.”

He vented a deep sigh. He wasn't about to tell her that animal scavengers had probably left no remains to be brought home. That Brandon and his companions had died in a ravine after being ambushed by rebels. As far as he knew, no one had revealed the grim details to her. In fact, no one really knew for certain what had happened, despite Heath and Drake's efforts to uncover the truth.

“It's out of the question, Chloe,” he said, shaking his head for emphasis.

“It was Papa's idea.”

“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 with 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.