Page 18 of The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

I suppose congratulations are in order for you and your new bride. Our “wedding” went off, or did not go off, as anticipated . . . except for one unexpected snag in our scheme.

His name is Sedgecroft—

Need I say more?

Do not worry about me. I shall handle him.

“At least I hope I will,” she muttered, dropping her quill in agitation.

She rose from the desk and paced across the Axminster carpet of the candlelit chamber, her linen nightrail rustling in the silence, her green eyes dark with worry.

She wasn’t the sort to complain. She had gone into this whole scheme with a willing spirit, but it did seem a little unfair that she was left behind to face the consequences of their thwarted wedding while Nigel was off enjoying matrimonial bliss with his bride.

The consequences, in the form of a breathtaking example of male beauty, the marquess, appeared more dire than the fate she had hoped to avoid.

How did one forestall Sedgecroft?

One didn’t, apparently. At least not without a cost. The man’s smile alone carried the impact of a shot to a female’s sensibilities. Beneath his urbane facade beat the heart of an accomplished conqueror. Of all the damsels in distress he could have chosen to champion, why had he picked her? If the man wanted to atone for his wicked ways, why didn’t he rescue orphans or build a village hospital? Because of Nigel, of course.

“Jane?” a voice whispered behind her.

She whirled in the middle of the carpet to discover Caroline standing in the doorway. She’d half expected Sedgecroft to materialize out of her thoughts.

“You gave me a fright,” she whispered.

Caroline quietly closed the door behind her. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. I was worried about you.”

Jane schooled her features into the mask of lovelorn dejection she had worn all day. “I have a lot on my mind. Nigel and I shared many memories.”

“Among other things.”

Jane straightened in alarm as her sister veered over to the desk. “Excuse me?”

“The two of you shared secrets, didn’t you?”

“Well, a few but—” She darted forward to rescue her revealing note from her sister’s hands. “I meant to burn that.”

Caroline looked up slowly, realization dawning in her eyes. “It was a letter to Nigel, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but, you mustn’t fret over me.” She turned and set the letter to the smoldering coals. Was there no privacy to be had in this house anymore? “In due time my heart will heal.”

“I’d say it had remarkable powers of restoration,” Caroline said wryly.

Jane glanced up from the fireplace as the flames consumed the letter. “You know me. Never one to show my sorrow.”

“You cried for a solid month when your spaniel died.”

“Well, that was a pet. This is . . . Nigel. A lady doesn’t display her personal feelings in public.”

Caroline’s golden-brown eyes speared her. “This is not public. This is me, Jane.”

“I prefer to keep my pain to myself, if you don’t mind.”

Caroline tapped her fingertips against her arm. “Spill the soup.”

“Soup? What—”

“I saw that letter. You mentioned Sedgecroft, whom you had never met before today. Hence, it was a new letter.”