Page 42 of The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

“Of course I’m all right. Why shouldn’t I be?”

He smiled at her crisp reply. Despite her effort to appear composed, he knew he had given her something to think about. For all her intelligence, she had little knowledge of sensual affairs. What had she and Nigel been doing together all these years, for God’s sake? Apparently not kissing. Absurdly enough, the thought buoyed his spirits, but really, he would have to watch himself with her in future.

“Join your brother,” he ordered gently, glancing over her head at the throngs of people on the lawn. “Have him take care of you while I’m gone.”

“Since he’s done such a good job as my chaperone until now, you mean?”

His gaze returned to her face. “Perhaps I should ask you to watch over him. You seem to be the more responsible one.”

“Not in some matters,” she murmured.

“What happened in the pavilion wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

“Despite everything,” Jane said in an undertone, “I find it impossible to stay angry with you. I suppose it is a waste of breath to correct a man who believes himself superior to the world in general.” She paused, sighing in chagrin. “Go and make amends to your sister. I shall be fine, but do attempt not to lose your temper again.”

“You try controlling the Boscastle clan in a normal temper,” he said as he steered her back to the path. “On Christmas Day in our family one practically has to hang from the chandelier to get a moment’s attention.”

“So Nigel told me.”

They were on the verge of the lawn now, the breakfast tables only a foot or so from them. Simon and Damaris were drifting away. Grayson cast a fierce look at the groups of young bucks who were pretending not to stare at Jane. This, he supposed, was what reform had done to him. Protecting desirable young women from games he’d once played only too well himself. Games he wouldn’t mind playing with her now, for that matter.

“One more thing,” he said carefully. “I notice how often Nigel enters our conversations, which is perfectly understandable, but I think you need to accept the fact that if he doesn’t return to make things right in the next week or so, he might not return at all.”

“I realize that,” she said, managing to avoid his eyes. “I am . . . quite resigned.”

“There’s no need to resign yourself to anything yet.” Perhaps he had been too blunt. “We’ll find another husband for you.”

“But I don’t want— Oh, look. There’s my friend Cecily waving to me from the last table. I’ll be safe enough with her, don’t you think?”

Safe from me? he wondered, his smile ironic. Had he frightened her off? Would she forgive him? It might be better all the way around if she didn’t. The feelings she provoked in him were unfamiliar, more than just a challenge to his self-control.

She bustled away before he could respond, and his gaze became reflective as he watched her melt into the small crowd of young women who turned to her in welcome. For a silly moment he felt tempted to tell her to be careful. But she had stood up to him on Chloe’s behalf and walked away none the worse for it. Again he marveled at Nigel’s stupidity in letting her go. There were mysteries to Jane that the dimwit had obviously never detected.

Chapter 10

The old saying popped into her mind again: Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Still a little dazed from her experience with Sedgecroft, she found herself smothered in the circle of four chattering young women. She wondered if they had any idea of how warm her face felt, if they could tell her lips were still tingling from his kisses.

Of course they all knew what had happened to her yesterday. Her dearest friend, the Honorable Cecily Brunsdale, a viscount’s daughter, had been one of her bridesmaids, an eyewitness to the fiasco. Jane did not know what reaction to expect from the others.

Sympathy, embarrassment, the generous courtesy of pretending the awful event had never occurred?

What she did not count on was their fleeting interest in her failed attempt at marriage. Yes, they acknowledged her loss, but only for a moment or so. That was yesterday’s news, worthy of their pity, a few well-meaning if insincere smiles. Far more interesting to these four social butterflies were the details of her deliciously surprising romance with the widely adored Marquess of Sedgecroft.

“Romance?” she said blankly at their insistent barrage of questions. Now her face felt on fire. “What makes you think I am having a romance with him?”

“What else would it be?” one of them murmured.

“A woman does not walk into a room with Sedgecroft without falling prey to his charm,” said Miss Priscilla Armstrong, a self-proclaimed expert on such matters after three uneventful Seasons.

Cecily, a slim ash-blonde with clear gray eyes, leapt immediately to Jane’s defense. “Need I remind you, Priscilla, that Sedgecroft is Nigel’s cousin. It is his duty to stand in for him as her companion until Nigel . . .”

Until Nigel did what? everyone wondered, looking at Jane in wide-eyed anticipation for a hint as to what one might expect.

But she stubbornly resisted revealing anything else, heeding Grayson’s warning that a little mystery would only make her more alluring to the ton. Not that she wished to be alluring. She did wish, however, not to cross Sedgecroft. If his behavior in the past twenty-four hours was an example of his single-minded persistence, she had no desire to arouse his anger. Goodness, he was more than she could deal with as a friend, let alone as an enemy.

“I have nothing more to say on the subject,” she said with a distress that was becoming more genuine by the hour.

But the four other women hardly noticed; they were listening raptly to Miss Evelyn Hutchinson’s opinion on the subject of Sedgecroft, a man she had obviously been observing and analyzing with academic fervor for quite some time.