The Seduction of an English Scoundrel (29 page)

Chapter 27

Patience was one of the few virtues Grayson had cultivated between his vices. If Jane desired courtship, he would oblige her. In their game of love, he had no doubt who would emerge triumphant. She might tease him to death, but in the end the male would dominate. He would gladly wear his heart on his sleeve to prove to her and the world that he adored her.

Yet if he was confident of his ability to win, he did not take much else in life for granted. Jane had challenged him emotionally and intellectually from the moment they'd met. Until they stood before man and God at the altar, he would continue to pursue her. Even if only to prove his devotion. To prove that while seducing her had been sublimely pleasurable, it had not been his sole aim.

He was utterly serious when he told her he needed her help to handle his family. What a wildling bunch they had become. He sensed in Chloe a revolution brewing, a deep unhappiness that, if not thwarted, could only lead to disaster. Heath also appeared to be headed for some enigmatic, undoubtedly dangerous course.

The worry did not end there. His prim and proper sister Emma had lost her husband, and, as a widowed viscountess, stood in a vulnerable position in society, even if she refused to see herself that way. Drake and Devon had always been restless souls, drawn to trouble time and time again. And brave young Brandon would never be coming home to bedevil them again.

The Boscastle line needed Jane's strength and cunning to survive the perils of another century. Grayson needed her for his own survival.

He called formally that same evening at her house to escort her family to the opera. The two of them stood alone together in the drawing room for several minutes. Grayson, in elegant black evening wear and gleaming boots. Jane, in an off-white satin gown draped across her soft shoulders like the petals of an exotic lily.

They went so well together. What other woman in the world aroused and tamed his demons at the same time?

He circled her slowly, a lion examining his prey. “That dress,” he said in a low voice, “looks a little too nice on you.”

“Do you like it? You should. It is one you picked out for me, the only selection from the mistress wardrobe that I could wear in public.”

He stopped, leaning down to rub his chin on the enticing curve of her shoulder. “I think I had a private affair in mind when I chose it. Did the drive back from Brighton give that devious mind of yours a rest?”

“Indeed, my lord. And your devious mind?”

He pressed a kiss on the arch of her throat, murmuring, “Plotting all over the place to have you to myself again. I miss you, Jane.” She shivered lightly as he placed his hands on her shoulders. “How long do we have to wait?”

“We can't get married until after Cecily is married, and one simply can't throw a wedding together in a week.”

“Elope?”

“Except, Grayson, I
do
have my heart set on a proper ceremony, a wedding to remember. . . .”

“You had one as I recall.”

“Well, I thought this time I might invite the groom.”

He sighed. “When is Cecily's wedding?”

“A fortnight from now, in Kent, at her father's manor. Are you coming?”

“Why not? The last wedding you and I attended was certainly entertaining.”

“My family will be there,” Jane said, warming at the thought of showing her rogue off to the rest of her relations. “You can frighten my sisters with your appalling manliness.”

“I suppose I shall have to get used to these family affairs,” he said quietly. He turned her around to face him, drinking in the sight of her satin-draped curves. Was she carrying his child? Had that delicate waist begun to expand the tiniest bit? They had certainly made love enough in Brighton to make it a possibility. He ran a finger beneath her throat. He felt very protective of her all of a sudden. “I want to set a date.”

“A date for what?” she asked with a smile.

His fingertip teased the underside of her breast. He watched in satisfaction as her breathing quickened. “For baking Christmas pudding. What do you think?”

Jane lifted her face to his. “Wasn't that part written into the clandestine contract?”

“Despot that I am, I neglected that important detail.”

“I'm surprised the other despot who is my father allowed the omission.”

“I believe he was in shock,” he said, and stole a kiss a few seconds before the father under discussion appeared in the doorway with his wife.

“Are you two going to stand here all night or accompany us to the opera?” Lord Belshire demanded, his gruff tone hiding his pleasure that his Jane had found a man like Sedgecroft to take care of her. “Nothing worse than arriving right in the middle of a damned aria.”

“We shall cause a scene no matter when we arrive,” Athena said behind him, slim and elegant in a white satin shawl and an ice blue moire taffeta gown. “People are dying to know what sort of arrangement Grayson has made with Jane. I shall be delivering snubs all night long.”

The social uproar Athena had predicted came true only seconds after they took their box in the opera house.

Even those in the audience in the know could not quite decide what to make of this. Lord Belshire, his family, and his vibrant eldest daughter poised on the arm of a handsome scamp, the notorious lady looking radiant for someone who was allegedly ruined. Hadn't the papers reported only two weeks or so ago that a certain marquess was shopping for a wardrobe with his
mistress
? And an indiscreet shopgirl had reported the naughtiest conversation in the upstairs chamber of a well-known Bond Street establishment. . . .

Wives and daughters borrowed quizzing glasses to take a look at Jane's ivory satin gown, recognizing the work of the demimonde's darling modiste Madame Devine. No one remembered that particular dress on Jane before and then . . . oh, the ever-delicious Sedgecroft had just kissed her ear! Trust him to please the crowd. Yes, he had kissed his love in public. At the very moment the scandalous couple bent heads simultaneously to pick up the program Jane had dropped.

“Everyone saw that,” she whispered with a hot blush as he glanced up, grinning into her face.

“Your father didn't,” he whispered back. “That's all I have to worry about.”

“The scandalmongers will say they were right all along, and the papers will keep printing horrible things about us.”

“Gossip will not kill us, Jane, or I would have been dead long ago.”

She pretended to scan her program, tempted to throw her arms around his strong neck and kiss him back. “You're probably right.”

He settled his large frame back in his seat. “The truth, my darling, is that anybody who is anybody will hope to be invited to all the social affairs hosted by the new Lady Sedgecroft. That would be you.”

“Would it?” she whispered, smiling as she pictured the pair of them presiding over the ton in the ballroom of his Park Lane house.

“I am the head of the family,” he added. “As such, it will be my privilege to enjoy watching the other eligible Boscastles be cornered at the supper parties my wife will give.” He leaned down to whisper, “That would be you again.”

She glanced up at his handsome face and felt her heart overflow with an almost fearful happiness. Yes, this Boscastle was hers. His wonderful, wicked brood would become her children's heritage. The prospect should have sent her straight to the sofa with a vinaigrette, but Jane had always been the type to challenge fate.

She said, “Which of your siblings do you think will marry next? Drake?”

His blue eyes darkened. “At the moment, I am focused on achieving that status for myself. Perhaps I shall have to make you want me more.”

“How?” she whispered, unable to imagine how such a thing could be possible.

“I shall not touch you again, Jane, after tonight. Not so much as a kiss until our wedding day.”

“You, Sedgecroft, showing self-control?”

“We shall see who weakens first,” he said smugly.

“Did you just issue me a challenge?” she whispered.

“I believe I did.”

“What shall we bet?”

“What do you have to offer?”

“Excuse me.” Jane's father, seated behind them, stretched forward to tap them on the shoulder. “Is the opera interrupting your conversation? Shall I ask Signora Nicola to take her solo into the alley?”

“My apologies, sir,” Grayson replied with a straight face. “Pay attention to the performance, Jane, dear,” he added in a voice loud enough to carry.

“Oh, I am,” she replied, giving him a scowl that might have had more effect if behind her Caroline and Miranda had not suddenly burst into giggles.

Grayson glanced around to flash them a charming grin. “All right, you two. You're going on the list along with the other family members who need to be married off for the benefit of Society.”

“Which is all very well and good,” Lord Belshire said grumpily, leaning forward a final time to speak. “But let us see
you
married first, hmm?”

Chapter 28

For the next week Grayson behaved as quite the perfect gentleman, the perfect suitor. He squired Jane and her sisters to the museum, to the amphitheater, to lectures and soirées. He bought her flowers. And he did not lay a finger on her, aware that he was teasing her, torturing them both with his promise to show self-control.

Proper she wanted. Proper he would give her, if only on the surface. There would be plenty of time for private improprieties during the course of their marriage.

Two weeks later Cecily exchanged vows with the Duke of Hedleigh in an ancient Gothic church only minutes away from her father's family seat in Kent. Jane served as a bridesmaid, and Grayson caused another small scandal when he sat in one of the front pews with her father, who kept commenting on how happy the bride and groom looked, and how he hoped to see his own daughter at the altar soon.

A few minutes after the wedding procession drove through the wrought-iron gates of the estate, a cloud of white doves was released from the tower of the east wing. Wedding bells pealed from the village church into the mellow blue skies as the birds fluttered free.

“How lovely,” Jane exclaimed, shielding her eyes to look up.

“Not if they decide to fly over the wedding breakfast,” her father grumbled as they took their seats at the tables where ham, grouse, jellies, and roast beef tempted the guests. “Why can't these affairs be held inside?”

Jane took a sip of champagne. Where had Grayson gone? Ah, there. Strolling down an avenue of high evergreens with two young ladies in tow. She frowned as the trio turned around a corner. True to his word, he had not touched her since that night at the opera, and she was burning, positively on fire to be in his arms again. He was playing with her, proving another of his wicked points.

His tall figure disappeared. A moment later a burst of gleeful feminine laughter drifted from the direction of the evergreens. The sound tore years and years of Jane's good breeding to pieces.

“What are they doing?” she asked, putting down her fork.

Her father speared a slice of ham. “What is who doing?”

“Grayson and those girls.”

Lord Belshire glanced around the table. “I don't see Grayson with any girls.”

“Precisely. They are hidden from view, making their behavior all the more suspicious.”

“I daresay Grayson would be a trifle more discreet if you were to announce your engagement.”

Jane rose from her chair. “Do you think he's trying to make me jealous?”

“My dear child, it is beyond me to fathom what either of you is doing. All I really care about at this point is that you set a date.” He refused a second glass of champagne offered by a hovering footman. “Once you are married, the pair of you can behave in whatever manner you please.”

She tossed down her napkin and hurried off toward the trees where she had last seen her rogue. It was rude of him, really, to be openly flirting in the midst of the wedding breakfast. With everyone watching. And him making such a beastly point of not touching her for two weeks.

She came to the corner where he had disappeared. A stone Cupid stood in the center of the pathway, pointing an arrow at her heart.

“Shoot if you like,” she muttered, “but you're a little too late.”

A deep mocking voice spoke behind her. “Too late for what?”

She spun around, bumping against Grayson's muscular body. A rush of blood warmed her all the way to her toes. It was the closest they had come to physical contact in over a fortnight, but even then he did not touch her. No, he just stood there in all his virile power, letting her smolder. “I was talking to Eros. Where are your giggling girls?”

“Ah, the Misses Darlington. Well, we rescued the dove, and they took off to find their mama.”

“What dove?”

“One of the wedding doves got itself entangled in a tree. The gardener and I staged a heroic rescue.” He stared down into her face, his eyes searching hers. “Were you jealous, Jane?”

She pressed her hand against his chest. “Horribly. Insanely. Grayson, you are never to go off in the trees with any other female but me. Were you
trying
to make me jealous?”

He grinned. “Me? Capable of such a juvenile act? Of course I was, darling, and obviously my ploy worked.”

He reached down and took her hand, breaking his vow. “We're announcing our engagement at the ball tonight.”

“Do you think—”

“I do.”

“So do I,” she whispered, winding her hands around his neck to kiss him. “I cannot bear to be away from you. I am ruined, Grayson, inside and out, thinking of you.”

A discreet cough interrupted Jane's long-awaited passionate moment.

Grayson glanced around first, irritated that anyone would intrude on their privacy.

“What the—”

“Forgive me. I was looking for Chloe.” Heath held up his hands, trying not to laugh.

Grayson caught Jane by the hand. “Since it's only you, you're forgiven, although I can't imagine why you couldn't wait a minute. We were finally celebrating our engagement.”

Heath glanced around the avenue. “Congratulations.”

“Is something wrong?” Jane asked quietly.

“I don't know,” Heath replied, his gaze returning to hers. “Chloe disappeared during breakfast.”

Grayson shrugged. “I'm sure she's somewhere on the estate.”

“But with whom?” Heath asked in a low voice. “Baron Brentford disappeared the same time as she did.”

“He was staring at her during the wedding ceremony,” Jane said in concern. “He's such an intense young man.”

Grayson frowned. “I thought he was staring at you.”

“Only until Chloe caught his eye. She really is unhappy about losing her officer. I think she was talking with Brentford this morning.”

A blur of movement at the end of the avenue attracted their attention. Jane gestured at the two figures on horseback riding back toward the park gates. A gentleman in black from head to toe. A young woman in royal blue, her head of dark curls thrown back in laughter. No groom. Jane sighed, wondering who she was to pass judgment. These Boscastles wielded their charms like a weapon.

Grayson swore, a Boscastle not at his charming best. “We're too late now. Whenever mischief passed between them is already done.”

“Which doesn't mean we will allow this to happen again,” Heath said with a grim look. “I wondered why Brentford took that bottle of wine off the table.”

“Now we know,” Grayson said, his jaw taut.

Heath pivoted on his heel. “I think it's time I introduced myself. I assume you have a few choice words for him, too, Gray. Shall we include Drake?”

Grayson looked at Jane before backing away to join his brother. “No. One of us will have to stay here to guard the queen. Jane, please give our excuses to our hosts.”

“Queen, am I? Well, listen to me, both of you, I am ordering you not to embarrass your sister again—”

“I am subtlety incarnate,” Heath said, laughing.

“And that word is not in your brother's vocabulary,” she said in exasperation.

She watched them hurry off to harass their sister and thought, This will be my life, my fate. All her actions subject to Grayson's approval, the concerns of his family her concerns. She turned to the statue of Cupid, picturing the stormy days ahead. There was no help for it once that winged-tip arrow struck home, and all she could hope was that one day Chloe would find the love she desperately sought and that he would love her in return.

 

Grayson and Jane announced their engagement at the end of the bridal ball held in the oval salon that same night. Lord Belshire was so relieved that he led a toast and celebrated by drinking an entire bottle of champagne. In the peculiar standards of Society, the betrothal instantly canceled out all the scandals of the previous weeks. The roguish implications of Grayson's conduct suddenly took on the rosy glow of a romantic courtship. It was quite the thing to pretend one approved of the couple's antics.

“The rogue must have planned this all along,” whispered a dowager to her niece. “Go and talk to Heath, darling. He'll be looking for a bride next.”

“Don't they make a perfect match?” cooed the same people who had predicted disaster only a few days ago.

“So it's to be a Boscastle-Welsham connection, after all.”

“Except that Jane's traded in an ordinary baronet for a marquess.”

“He hasn't taken his eyes off her all evening,” sighed one happily married matron. “He makes no secret of his love for her.”

Jane found herself surrounded by a crowd of female well-wishers, with Cecily at the front of the crush.

“It seems I was wrong about him after all,” Cecily whispered sheepishly. “He isn't the scoundrel everyone thought he was.”

Jane hugged her friend in a celebration of their mutual happiness. Cecily's bridal wreath was a little lopsided from dancing, and her beautiful white satin gown lacked a silk knot here and there. “Well, he certainly is no saint, although heaven knows, neither am I.”

Cecily did not even pretend to disagree. “At least your papa looked very happy about the engagement. He was acting as if he had arranged the match himself.”

“Speaking of arranging matches,” Jane said, lowering her tone, “I don't suppose you know what happened between Chloe, her brothers, and Brentford earlier today?”

Cecily frowned. “My maid said Brentford left the house shortly after their meeting, looking shaken but still alive. Chloe is playing cards with Drake.”

“Grayson probably scared everyone to death again.” Jane glanced around the cluster of elegant figures in the candlelit room. “Where did he and my father go anyway?”

The two men had slipped away to the billiard room, where Lord Belshire puffed away on a cigar and congratulated his future son-in-law on his engagement.

“Well, you did it, Sedgecroft.” He practically had to restrain himself from dancing a little jig around the table.

Grayson positioned his queue stick. “I still have to get her to the altar.”

“She'll be there, believe me, or I'll marry you myself.
You'll
be there, won't you? History will not repeat itself. . . .”

Grayson glanced up, grinning, before he took a shot. “I was there the first time, sir, remember?”