The Seduction of an English Scoundrel Page 27

  “Well, give me a chance,” he said, his tone seductive. “I think I can do as well as Nigel, don’t you?”

  “Yet this all started as a charade,” she said, wanting him to deny her fears. “How do I know I shall not become another Helene?”

  “There is no comparison between you.”

  “You always hinted you would never marry at all.”

  “And then I met you,” he said, as if that explained everything.

  Jane’s throat closed at the emotion in his eyes. “I thought I had lost everything until you saved me.”

  “You took a risk few women would dare.”

  “You wretch, making me believe you wanted me only as your mistress.”

  “And courting you will excuse the cruel trick I played?” Grayson was hopeful he could find a straightforward way to allay her anxiety. Heaven forbid Jane should decide to put him to the test by more devious means.

  Before she could reply, there was a quiet knock at the door. “I say, Jane,” Uncle Giles whispered, “how is that chill now?”

  “What chill?” she asked, distracted as Grayson set down the glass to gather her gently back into the provocative warmth of his body.

  “The chill you contracted at the dance when you appeared half naked to teach me a lesson, darling,” Grayson said in an undertone, running his hands lightly down her shoulders.

  His lips brushed the back of her neck, and she shivered involuntarily. “It seems to be getting worse, Uncle Giles. It’s moving down into my neck now. At a rather alarming rate.”

  “Sounds like it’s taken a good hold of you,” her uncle said in sympathy through the door. “Don’t want it settling on your chest.”

  “Indeed, we do not,” Jane retorted, blushing in reaction as Grayson’s large hands slipped inside her robe to her breasts.

  “The best remedy is a good night in bed,” Uncle Giles said.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Grayson murmured as he drew one tender pink nipple into a point between his fingertips.

  “I’m sure I shall feel better in the morning,” Jane said, then whispered breathlessly, “Stop doing that. He might be old, but he’s not incompetent.”

  “I didn’t catch that, Jane,” Giles replied. “Did you ask for a hot compress? Excellent idea. I shall bring one up with a glass of warm milk posthaste.”

  As his heavy footsteps died away, Jane disentangled herself from Grayson’s arms. “Will you court me?” she asked, placing her heart in his hands, her request not pleading but more a condition of her terms.

  “Jane, I would take on all of Napoleon’s armies single-handedly to have you.” Having confessed that, he felt compelled to add, “But it does go against the grain.” He tugged her robe open. “Wooing one’s own wife.”

  “Oh,” she said in exasperation as he caught both ends of the robe’s sash. “The objective is to woo me into becoming your wife.”

  “What is the point of wooing a woman you have already won?” he teased, pulling her toward him by the sash.

  “Grayson,” she said, “that remark is another example of your astounding arrogance. Go away.”

  He breathed a sigh of pleasure at the contact of her body against his. “May I remind you that this is my house?”

  “You may call on me at a later date when I am not indisposed.”

  “I may call on you any damn time I please.” He gave the ends of the sash another firm pull to show her who was in control. At least for the moment. “Dash it all, Jane, we have gone about all this backward. Meeting at the altar first, becoming friends, having a love affair. And now a courtship at the end.”

  “I suppose it’s all right if it ends well.”

  “I owe you your heart’s desire,” he said gently. “If that is what it takes to prove my love, then I will.”

  “Really, Grayson?” she asked, placing her hands against his bare chest.

  “For you and our families. We shall do it properly this time.”

  She bit her lip, laughing up at him. “Properly? You and I?”

  “Well, as close to properly as the pair of us shall ever come.”

  Grayson stared pensively across the candlelit library at his brother Heath, his arms folded behind his head. “Go on and have your laugh. She turned me down.”

  “Who would believe it?” Heath said in a droll voice. “A woman rejecting my irresistible sibling.”

  “This is a serious matter, Heath. She has refused to marry me unless I meet certain conditions.”

  “Well, no one makes you do anything, so that’s the end of it then.”

  Grayson’s eyes glistened in amusement. “The hell it is. The devious lady is probably carrying the family heir. Do you think there is the slightest chance that we won’t be married?”

  Heath set aside the book he’d been reading, rather enjoying the situation. He had never expected to like Jane as much as he did. Secretly he admired her for standing up to his brother. “That presents an intriguing problem. What are you going to do? Abduct her?”

  “Don’t think the idea hasn’t crossed my mind,” Grayson said darkly.

  “Scotland is rather pleasant this time of year. I assume her parents wouldn’t raise a fuss if you eloped?”

  Grayson snorted. “Belshire is so infuriated with her, he’d probably push her out the window into a waiting coach. But my Jane wishes to make the choice herself, and I don’t fancy a bride who won’t speak to me on our honeymoon.”

  “Nor would I.”

  “You?” Grayson looked closely at his brother, a man whose actions and emotions had for years seemed cloaked in shadows. Heath had always been subtle in his affairs. “You don’t fancy anyone for a bride at all. Do you?”

  Heath gave an evasive smile. “I have other obligations to fulfill.”

  “Then your work for British Intelligence isn’t over.”

  “I don’t know. I have yet to be officially contacted.”

  “There is danger involved?”

  “Obviously to some,” Heath answered, choosing his next words with care. “Napoleon in exile can only hope for discord between the world powers. Europe is unsettled. The unemployed are massing to our borders.”

  “And treasuries are drained.”

  “Why are we even talking of politics when you have woman troubles, Grayson?” This was Heath’s way of saying he would not discuss the subject further. “Truthfully, between war and courtship, I am not sure which is easier to win.”

  Grayson grinned. The truth was he looked forward to this uncertain future with Jane. “You may be right, although there is more pleasure in my battling. I promise you that.”

  “Then I can only wish—”

  Heath was out of his chair, a pistol drawn from the desk, before Grayson had even reached the sideboard. A commotion had erupted in the entrance vestibule, footsteps echoing, a woman shouting, horses snorting in the street.

  “Who in God’s name is that at this hour?” Grayson demanded, following his brother to the door.

  The wall sconces in the vestibule had already been extinguished for the evening. At first the two brothers had difficulty recognizing the unlikely arrivals who stood before them, one a rather nondescript young man in a brown greatcoat, the other a woman in a fur-lined mantle, her body in the full blossom of a healthy pregnancy.

  “There is the scoundrel, Nigel, skulking about in the dark as scoundrels are wont to do,” she announced in a crisp voice as she removed her gloves and tossed them to the stunned butler, who was well trained enough to hold his tongue.

  “Oh, my God,” Grayson said to Heath. “That is the voice of my nightmares.”

  “And mine,” Heath said, amused and appalled at this development. “What do you suppose she wants?”

  “I . . .” Grayson hesitated, raising his gaze to the top of the stairs where Jane stood peeking down in her lawn nightdress. “Well, that might be our answer there.”

  Esther Chasteberry, now Lady Boscastle, whose keen eyes had never missed a social aberration
once in her career as a governess, gave a gasp. “In her nightrail, Nigel! He isn’t even subtle about it. The world has gone to Hades, I tell you. She is absolutely ruined!”

  Nigel looked up at Jane in slack-mouthed astonishment. In all their years of friendship he had never expected to see his kind, generous Jane come to this. Worse, he knew he was responsible. If he had married her, they might have been miserable together, but at least they would have been respectable. To be sure, she would not have become a rake’s mistress who greeted people on the stairs in her nightwear.

  “Oh, Jane,” he said quietly, shaking his head in despair. “How could you? And with my own cousin.”

  “It is not her fault,” Esther said indignantly, moving down the hall like a royal barge on the Thames. “She has been taken advantage of by that”—she pointed accusingly at Grayson—“naughty boy.”

  Heath started to laugh.

  “I think,” Grayson said, finally recovering from his surprise, “that there has been a misunderstanding.”

  Don’t let him intimidate you, Nigel,” his wife said. “Do something.”

  Nigel swallowed, rousing himself into action. Truth was, he was intimidated by his dear wife, but Grayson had always scared him a little, too, with his Boscastle temperament backed by physical prowess. He had seen Grayson knock out an opponent with the first blow. He steeled himself as Esther reached back and grabbed his arm.

  “Are you going to do something or am I?” she demanded.

  Heath’s eyes glistened with humor. “Watch out, Gray,” he said, “she might have brought her rod.”

  Nigel stepped forward. He was at least a head shorter than his cousins, with thick, wavy brown hair, the start of a double chin, and a pleasant if not handsome face. Even now he looked more like the humble baronet he was than a valiant defender of despoiled young ladies.

  Except, blast it all, Jane wasn’t just a ruined woman. She was his best friend, a courageous spirit who had sacrificed so much for him. Anger surged through his cowardly hesitation. When he found his voice, it sounded so gruff and manly that he almost frightened himself.

  “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sedgecroft. What is the meaning of this? Answer me this instant.”

  Grayson was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Only out of a residual fear of the family governess did he manage to respond without laughing. “I should be asking you that question, Nigel, don’t you think?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Unbelievably selfish of you to leave your betrothed to the wolves, dear cousin,” Grayson said with a little frown at Jane before she vanished back up the stairs, presumably to don presentable attire. “It was a bit of a scandal you left me to clean up for the family. Not that I minded. Not that it hasn’t been a highly entertaining scandal. But, well, it was a scandal.”

  Nigel hung his head, easily defeated by his cousin’s logic. “Well . . .”

  “It wouldn’t have been quite so scandalous if you hadn’t interfered,” Esther said when it became obvious Nigel’s bravado was deflated. “Not surprising, though. Your branch of the Boscastle line always did take the initiative.”

  “Why, thank you, Esther,” Heath said, grinning at his older brother. “I think that’s the first time you have ever complimented us.”

  “I might not have,” she said in a strained voice, “except for the fact we are family now. I shall not tolerate anyone outside criticizing those who are mine.”

  “What precisely are you doing here?” Grayson asked again, his arms folded in resignation across his chest.

  Esther raised her chin, not in the least cowed by a man whose bottom she had spanked. “We have come to salvage what is left of Jane’s name.”

  “Then lower your voice,” Grayson said mildly. “Her brother and uncle are asleep upstairs.”

  Nigel glanced around. Jane, dressed in a muslin gown and at least seeming decent for a fallen woman, had just descended the stairs to join the fray. He felt guilty for his own happily married state in contrast to her disgrace, although—good gracious, what was that look that passed between her and Sedgecroft?

  Electrifying. White hot, like an arc of lightning on a summer night. The very air sizzled with its sultry undertones, and here Nigel stood in the middle, a helpless bystander who suddenly wondered how he could possibly persuade a man like Sedgecroft to do the honorable thing.

  Grayson cleared his throat, looking bigger, taller, stronger than Nigel had remembered. “Why don’t we gentlemen retire to the drawing room to discuss this?”

  Nigel straightened his narrow shoulders. A discussion he could handle. “Stay here, Esther,” he said with authority, then added softly as he turned to follow Grayson, “Please.”

  Chapter 25

  “I should never have agreed to any of this had I known what a tangle it would become,” Esther confided in Jane as they stood abandoned in the vestibule.

  “Nor would I,” Jane said. Which, on reflection, was totally untrue. She had enjoyed every minute with her Boscastle male as Esther had enjoyed hers. “No one could have foreseen any of this.” That part was at least true.

  “I hope Nigel stands up for himself,” Esther said with a worried frown.

  Jane could only respond with a halfhearted nod. Against Grayson and Heath, what chance did Nigel have?

  “The talk of you two is all over town,” Esther said, the governess in her evident as she shook her head. “At least Nigel and I were discreet.”

  “Because I covered for you,” Jane pointed out.

  “Yes. Yes, you did. And don’t think we’re not grateful. Of course Nigel’s father will cut him off without tuppence now that our marriage is public knowledge. But it’s you who are the immediate concern. When Nigel and I rushed to London to rescue you, your ruination was all everyone could talk about. What on earth possessed you to do this, my dear?”

  “The same thing that possessed you and Nigel, I imagine.”

  “Nigel and I were shocked to the teeth when we found that your parents had washed their hands of you and retreated to the country.”

  “Well—”

  “Never fear. We shall not abandon you in your hour of shame and notoriety as your family has,” Esther said consolingly.

  “That’s very kind of you,” Jane replied, not quite ready to be taken into custody yet. “But I’m bearing up well, and I do have Uncle Giles.”

  “You are not bearing up well at all,” Esther insisted. “You are deluded by your passion for Sedgecroft.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Because I have battled similar temptations in the course of my career as a governess.” Esther’s light brown eyes misted over with memories. “There was a duke once . . . oh, never mind. The problem is, what to do with you.”

  “I am perfectly capable of managing my own affairs.”

  “The fact that you are in this house contradicts that statement.” Esther released a sigh. “Perhaps we shall think up a solution on the way back to London.”

  “London?”

  “Yes, Jane. Nigel and I must face his parents together and place you under our protection. Unless of course Nigel can persuade Sedgecroft to do right by you.”

  Jane smiled. “Grayson has already asked for my hand.”

  “Oh. Well, then. You must stay with us anyway, Jane, until the talk dies down.”

  “For once, Esther, just for once, I really would like a say in my life. Just a word here and there, mind you. A chance to offer an opinion.”

  Esther gave her a level look. “You should not have fallen in love with a Boscastle.”

  “I hardly had a choice in that matter,” Jane replied, remembering her first encounter with Grayson, and how her life had taken so many intriguing turns after that. “In fact, I do not understand even now how I lost my heart to him.”

  “None of us ever do, Jane. For all my wisdom and experience with handling wayward young males, even I could not resist my sweet Nigel, and every day I thank heaven that his cousins did
not manage to corrupt him.”

  Nigel had downed two glasses of port before scraping up the nerve to come to the point. The knowledge that Esther was probably listening at the door emboldened him. It also terrified him. He would rather face Grayson blindfolded in a duel than return to the wrath of his pregnant wife.

  “There is only one solution, as I see it,” he announced, covertly fanning away the cloud of cigar smoke that Heath had blown toward him.

  “Solution to what?” Grayson asked. He was stretched out on the sofa with his eyes half closed.

  “To this . . . this mistress mess that Jane has fallen into.” There. He’d said it without actually accusing Grayson again of being the villain who had pushed her into the aforementioned fall.

  “I think he ought to marry her,” Heath said.

  Grayson sat up. “Really?”

  “It would tie up a few loose threads,” Nigel said, hiding his relief.

  “Then you think it is an acceptable answer?” Grayson asked, as if the idea had never entered his mind before this very moment. “I could count on you to convince Jane to accept the proposal? Being her best friend, and all.”

  “Why, yes.” Nigel was so flattered at being in on a conspiracy with his two cousins he completely lost sight of his original objective. “I will do my utmost to persuade her, providing . . .”

  “Providing what?” Heath said, his eyes narrowing.

  “I shall have to ask Esther’s advice first, of course. As a mere courtesy to her condition.”

  “Does she still wield that rod of hers?” Grayson asked, turning his head.

  Nigel flushed; it still stung to remember all the times he had been excluded from the boisterous Boscastle clan. “I hardly know how to react to such a question,” he said in embarrassment.

  “I think she still has it,” Grayson said.

  Heath grinned devilishly. “I think you’re right.”

  Chapter 26

  So it had come to this, Grayson mused as he stood in his bedroom window to watch the loading of his traveling coach below. Back to London with the woman he loved. He and Jane would retrace the steps of their scandalous affair in a socially acceptable manner.