Page 46 of The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

What was he going to do about her?

He opened the door. He had no inkling of what to say.

She was seated at her desk, her wavy black hair spread across her shoulders like a raven’s wing. She looked young and vulnerable but grown up at the same time. She stiffened her back as he entered the room, but did not turn around. “Ah, my gaoler appears,” she said. “Please leave the bread and water by the door.”

“Chloe.”

“Grayson.”

He started to speak, then paused as he noticed a sketch of Brandon sitting on her desk. Brandon had been the baby of the family and Chloe’s fervent champion as well as partner in childhood mischief. His death, on top of their father’s, had devastated her at a time when she should have been preparing herself for marriage.

Once again he blamed himself for not being with his father and Chloe when they received word that Brandon had been killed. For months Royden Boscastle had been begging his eldest son to come to their country home for a week of hunting and entertaining old friends. Grayson had put him off and promised to come at a later date, not realizing that time was running out for their reunion.

Had Royden Boscastle had a premonition of his death? Grayson could not help wondering whether his father would have survived if he’d been at his side to soften the blow of Brandon’s murder. Chloe and their father had been alone when the letter came, and she’d held him in her arms, helpless and afraid, as he died. The shock and sadness had changed her.

“What did you think you were doing today?” he asked her quietly.

“I do not want to discuss it.”

He sat on the edge of her chaise. “Chloe, turn around and talk to me. We will discuss this.”

She hesitated, then turned, her blue eyes cold . . . and wounded. He sighed, his heart aching for her.

“What did you expect me to do?” he asked in chagrin. “He was a soldier, for the love of God.”

Her pen tapped the desk. “So, if I had been kissing a duke, you would have granted your approval?”

“Of course not,” he retorted. “But at least someone of your own class, well, if you really were in love, marriage would have been an option. I’d never even seen him before.”

Her white teeth worried the edge of her bottom lip. “And what did you intend to gain by bringing Jane along to witness my disgrace?”

“Jane defended you, actually.”

“Someone ought to defend her against you,” she burst out, the blue eyes so like his full of fire.

He drew a breath, allowing the insult to die unchallenged. “Chloe, you can’t tell me that you really love that young man.”

“I might.”

He shook his head in chagrin. “I don’t like this wild turn you have taken. Nor do I approve of your work at the Foundling Hospital and the Female Penitentiary for that matter, with ruined young women and whores.”

“Nobody cares about them, Grayson,” she said, her voice underscored with passion. “They have no parents to watch over them.”

No parents. Was her sense of loss so acute, so pervasive, that she felt more at home with these anguished beings than her own family?

“I care about you, Chloe,” he said in bewilderment. “All of us do.”

“Then allow me to live my life as I please.”

“Not until what pleases you meets my approval.” He rose, his large hands buried in his pockets as he began to pace behind her. “Perhaps we should find you a husband. I don’t know. Someone Papa would have chosen.”

A flicker of pain darkened her blue eyes and was masked before he could decipher it. “Papa would have let me choose for myself.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” he said quickly. “He was a tyrant, Chloe, as much as we loved him. He could be quite hurtful at times.”

She came to her feet, her cheeks flushed, her voice distressed. “Don’t say that.”

“Well, it’s true. It doesn’t mean I didn’t love him. Or that I don’t miss him as much as you.”