Page 75 of The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

Have been taken against our will, practically bound and gagged. Beware—the lion has chosen his mate—

And then there was a huge, ugly smear on the paper as if Caroline had been forced to hide it from whoever had entered the room.

“How peculiar,” she said to herself, gooseflesh rising on her forearms. “ ‘The lion has chosen his mate.’ Who—?”

She jumped as the footman knocked loudly at the door. “The marquess is here, Lady Jane. He has insisted I summon you without delay.”

“Summon me? Summon me for what?”

“I didn’t think to ask, my lady.”

“I wonder—you don’t think anything was wrong?”

Without waiting for an answer she hurried downstairs to the drawing room to find Grayson standing at the window, dressed in an elegantly tailored royal blue morning coat and snug nankeen trousers, his riding crop tapping against one iron-hard thigh. Tapping, she thought fleetingly, like the tail of an animal about to strike in anger.

“Well,” she said, so glad to see him that she started to laugh, “at least you haven’t abandoned me. My entire family has gone a little mad. It seems some cousin of mine has taken ill and my parents are gone on a mission of mercy to the country—”

Then he turned, and her breath caught in her throat. No man had the right to look so sinfully handsome this early in the day.

Her laughter faded as their eyes met, and for the second time that morning a prickle of foreboding raised goosebumps on her arms. She didn’t remember ever seeing that dark regard on his face before.

“Did you meet with Heath?” she asked, her heart thumping in her breast.

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Her legs felt unsteady as she searched his face for a clue to her fate.

“I’m afraid it is not good news, Jane,” he said heavily.

“No?”

“It seems your hopes of marrying Nigel must be forsaken. He does indeed appear to have run away.”

“To where?”

“Does it matter?”

She wondered if he could hear the erratic pounding of her heart. “I suppose not.”

“I say good riddance to him.”

How aloof his gaze had become. Or was she imagining things? “Yes.”

“You will not forgive him.”

“I—”

“It would be best to forget him, Jane.”

“But—” How much did he know? She was confused by his behavior. Did it embarrass him to break this news?

“He does not matter anymore.” He held out his hand, beckoning her. “Does he?”

A disconcerting flush of heat went through her. “No,” she said, staring at him, wondering if it could possibly be this easy. Was there the wildest chance he would not uncover the truth, or that he knew and they could continue to pretend that he didn’t? That he was content to say Nigel is gone, life must go on, and you, Jane, are part of my life?

“Now,” he said in a low, even tone, “fetch your pelisse. We have an appointment.”

Whatever shadowy emotion had darkened his gaze was gone before she could interpret it. There was a subtle difference in his manner toward her. Had Heath learned more than Grayson would tell? No. Nobody knew of Esther’s Hampshire home. And if Grayson knew, he would not be able to control his anger. Did he feel guilty about what they had done last night? Her blood quickened at the memory even as she wondered if his opinion of her had been lowered.