The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

Chapter 12

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.