Chapter 28
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?”