Page 102 of The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

“It is the manner in which you went about this that has upset me. You and Papa plotting my life in candlelight behind closed doors.”

“How did you—” Of course. There was only one possible person who could have found out. He made a mental note to have Chloe incarcerated in the Tower of London. “Plotting your life. Put that way it does sound a little unsavory. Not that your conduct hasn’t taken its own devious little detours.”

“I know. I have apologized. . . .”

He took the glass from her hands. His smile was faintly sardonic. “There is no need to apologize. Your devious nature is one of the things I find oddly attractive about you.”

She rose and turned away from him, staring at his reflection in the mirror. “Then you understand my desire to be courted?”

“I did court you,” he said, his shrug dismissive.

“No, you didn’t.” Jane pressed her hands down on the dressing table. “You conquered me like a citadel. I hunger for the romantic, Grayson, for flowers and billets doux and intimate rides in the park.”

“We went riding in the park, and I bought you an entire flower cart,” he said in amusement, brushing a lock of hair from her shoulder. “Do you require your own meadow?”

“No one has ever courted me,” she said softly.

He watched her candlelit reflection, drinking in the details of her face.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s not as if you have lacked for male attention. Nigel might be a nodcock, but he did take you to social affairs.”

She gave a little sniff of uncharacteristic self-pity. “All Nigel talked about at those affairs was Esther. Esther this and Esther that. Esther’s beauteous bosoms and shivery voice.”

He chuckled. “Esther has a voice like a Prussian general.”

“I thought so, too, but Nigel certainly responded to it.” She paused, her own voice wistful. “All I ever wanted deep in my heart was for someone to love me like that.”

“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.