Chapter 3
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?