Page 48 of The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

Caroline and Miranda crept into their sister’s darkened bedchamber, peering down through the gloom at the slender figure stretched out flat on the four-poster. Jane lay like a stone effigy with a cold cloth clapped to her forehead, her hair streaming over her pillows. She pretended to be asleep until her nerves could not take another second of their intrusive silence. She could not continue in this manner. Her conscience would not allow it.

“Go away, both of you,” she said between her teeth.

“Oh, Jane,” Miranda said in breathless sympathy, “you look . . . you look positively wrung out.”

“Quite possibly because I am.”

Caroline plopped down on the bed, her voice ruefully assured. “I was right. Sedgecroft is horrible.”

“No.” Jane yanked off her cloth and opened her eyes in protest. “He’s wonderful. The most wonderful thing I have ever had the misfortune to experience in my life.”

Her sisters exchanged startled looks. “Do tell,” Miranda said, sinking down beside Caroline.

“I am telling you nothing.”

“If you are trying to say that he seduced you,” Miranda whispered, “on your very first week—”

“Of course he didn’t seduce me,” Jane said in irritation. “He might have kissed me. Once or twice.”

Caroline’s brow furrowed in a frown. “And that is why you are lying here in the dark?”

“If you had ever been kissed by Sedgecroft, you would not ask such a stupid question. You might even be incapable of coherent speech.”

“I think we might have misjudged him,” Miranda said after a long silence. “He can be quite charming when given the chance.”

“Was there ever any doubt of that?” Jane gave a sigh as she vividly recalled just how potent his powers could be. “That is what makes him a successful scoundrel.”

“Then how,” Caroline asked, “do you intend to resist him?”

“With the greatest of difficulty, I assure you. Apparently I am not as immune to his charm as I had hoped. I have yet to recover from our outing today.”

“Well, you’d better start making a recovery.” Miranda glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “His footman Weed left a message that the marquess would be calling on you within the hour.”

Jane sat up in alarm. “Why?”

“The annual ball at Southwick House,” Caroline said. “It’s one of the biggest affairs of the Season. Only a favored few are invited early. Honestly, Jane, we do attend every year.”

Jane stared past them in mild panic to her wardrobe. Never had her flair for fashion been quite so challenged as in the past five days. She hadn’t minded looking like a pigeon until Sedgecroft had cast the gauntlet, challenging her in his devilish way. “It might have been nice if he had told me. What am I supposed to wear?”

“The pale rose gauze with the fringed shawl,” Caroline replied. “The one in your trousseau made for the wedding reception.”

“Wedding reception?” Jane said vaguely, wondering if rose could be considered pink, thereby pleasing to Sedgecroft’s reprobate tastes. “What reception?”

“The reception you were to have with Nigel,” Miranda said archly. “The man you went to Machiavellian lengths to avoid marrying.”

Jane frowned and slid off the bed in her stocking feet. “I am perfectly aware of his name, thank you.”

“The rose gown isn’t in your wardrobe,” Caroline called after her, sharing an amused look with her other sister. “Miranda and I sneaked in while you were recovering to have it aired and pressed.”

Jane spun on her heel. “Does anyone consider that I might have a mind of my own?”

“Of course you do,” Miranda murmured in a sly voice. “That’s what’s gotten you into all this trouble with Sedgecroft.”

“She isn’t in trouble with Sedgecroft.” Caroline studied Jane in concern. “Yet.”

“You really ought to ring for Amelia to do your hair and face,” Miranda said, her eyes dark with worry. “You’ve gone all pale and thin on us.”

“I have not eaten a thing all week except for a strawberry!” Jane exclaimed, feeling any control she wielded over her life slipping away. “I need sustenance to deal with that man. Did that occur to His Wickedness?”