Page 43 of The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

“You do know what the maid of his former mistress said?”

“Which one?” asked Lady Alice Pfeiffer, showing herself to be not exactly ignorant on the subject herself.

“Mrs. Parks,” Evelyn replied.

“Tell us,” Priscilla ordered. “Jane has a right to know.”

“Well, I—”

“You should know the truth,” Cecily said quietly.

Jane wasn’t sure she wanted to know the truth. She craned her neck, unconsciously scanning the crowd for a sign of her powerful blue-eyed troublemaker. She hoped he wasn’t scolding his spirited sister again. Jane felt drawn to Chloe’s passion for life and sensed a wounded heart beneath the rebellion. Lord, would she herself ever be the object of his lionlike fury? Yes, if he found out what an accomplished schemestress she was.

Evelyn pressed her fan to her chin. “Mrs. Parks was overheard confiding that one night with Sedgecroft was a bacchanalian orgy to the female senses.”

Jane blinked, her attention diverted. “I’m sure you misunderstood.” Although she could well believe it.

Evelyn nodded slyly. “She also said that a woman had best not plan to ride in the park for at least a fortnight after.”

“Oh, honestly!” Cecily exclaimed disapprovingly while the other women digested this fascinating tidbit of gossip in delight. “That is not exactly the sort of revelation I had in mind when I encouraged you. “

“And,” Evelyn added, “he reads the morning paper while he carries on certain physical activities with his paramours.”

Priscilla leaned forward, her lips parting. “He carries on these activities in the morning?”

“Morning, noon, and night,” Evelyn said knowingly. “He indulges a woman’s every whim.”

Several deep sighs heralded the silence that fell until Evelyn felt compelled to continue.

“To spend time in his company is to fall under his spell. Sedgecroft is a man of deliberation. Once he makes his move, that is the end.”

“The end of what?” Jane demanded, the hair on her nape prickling.

“The end of virtue. The start of vice. He has already initiated his strategy long before his victim realizes what has happened.”

Cecily frowned in warning. “That is enough, Evelyn.”

“Not that any woman he loves would consider herself a victim,” Evelyn said as an afterthought. “A treasure is more apt.”

Another silence descended.

Jane found an opening in the circle and broke away, having experienced enough of Sedgecroft’s prowess for one day.

“Excuse me, won’t you? I think my brother is summoning me.”

Cecily hurried after her, speaking in a soft apologetic whisper. “I came to see you last night, but your parents had you under guard. How are you ever going to survive this, Jane?”

Jane stared across the green expanse of the park. Cecily was one of her oldest confidantes, almost as close to her as Caroline and Miranda. At age three Cecily had announced to an entire church congregation that she had caught the vicar in the wine pantry with her aunt. At age five Cecily had cut off all her lustrous hip-length hair to play Robin Hood with her brothers. At eleven she committed the same offense because she planned to run away in disguise and become a jockey.

No wonder Jane adored her. Cecily had backbone, and she actually loved the young duke she was about to marry. But not even her dear friend knew about Jane and Nigel’s scheme to thwart the course of their untrue love.

Which was why Jane wished she could be honest when Cecily took her by the hand and whispered, “I was sick with worry over you. If I’d had a gun, I would have gone after Nigel myself and shot him dead. Believe it or not, I understand exactly how you must feel. It’s so brave of you to show your face today, but Jane—is this wise?”

There is a time to be wise, and a time to be wicked.

“The ton is going to talk about me anyway, Cecily. The sooner I face that, the better.”

“I’m not referring to the ton.”