Page 86 of The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

“You could at least look as if you were sorry,” she whispered to her disgraced reflection. “The best of the beau monde tried to warn you, but did you listen? No, you became a mistress.”

Halfway down the stairs she remembered that Nigel’s aunt lived in Brighton with her retired barrister husband. Since to stay in this house would only encourage her own latent indecency, she supposed she could ask for refuge until she convinced Simon to take her home. If anyone in her family ever spoke to her again, she thought, sighing at what she had done.

As she tiptoed between the marble pillars of the entrance hall, she spotted her pelisse and reticule on the hall stand where a servant had left them while their owner shamelessly revealed the wanton side of her nature in the bedchamber above.

She pulled on her pelisse and eyed the front door with its fanlight allowing pale shivers of sun to penetrate the villa’s peaceful gloom. She would look like a Cyprian strolling the promenade alone at this hour of day, but if Sedgecroft had his way that would probably be her fate.

A deep voice reached out to her from the shadows. “My brother would never forgive me if I let you escape.” A tall broad-shouldered figure detached itself from one of the pillars and stepped in front of her. “Neither would I forgive myself, for that matter. Why don’t you join me for breakfast in the green drawing room? That way, I can acquaint myself with the lady who has the head of the family behaving in such an odd manner.”

There was an air of command behind the invitation. In fact, he had taken her arm and was guiding her toward the east wing of the villa. This, she thought, sneaking a glance up at him, would be Heath, a darker, quieter, more intense representation of the Boscastle male. His straight black hair was brushed back from an angular face with chiseled features and a square jaw that denoted strength. He was practically as tall as his brother, perhaps a little leaner, with the coiled, dangerous control of a panther. The arrogance was there, but more subdued. She could sense him examining her as they walked the length of the marble-tiled floor.

“It is early to be up.” He hesitated. “Especially after a day of travel. I’m Heath, Jane, as you probably have guessed. I believe we have never been properly introduced.”

She smiled ruefully. “I don’t know that one would call these circumstances proper, either.”

“No?” His deep blue eyes glittered with guarded amusement.

“You know what Grayson is like.”

“Yes.” His tone was low, inviting trust. “But I don’t know you, Jane.”

“I am hardly at my best,” she said, her voice breaking.

She moistened her lips, aware that his dark blue gaze flickered over her, assessing every detail of her appearance from the shadows under her eyes to the reticule she clutched nervously in her right hand. Of course he knew she was not exhausted from traveling, but from a night spent in intimacy with his older sibling. The realization brought a hot stain to her cheeks.

She shook her head. “I don’t want breakfast.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Perhaps I can change your mind.”

“I know what you must think of me,” she said in a soft, halting voice.

“I doubt it.”

She swallowed, wondering what it was about him that so immediately put her at ease. “It was you at the bedroom door, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he admitted with an apologetic smile.

“Then I am caught.”

He led her into a large room in which a cheerful fire burned and a linen-draped table tempted the appetite with a hearty breakfast for two. “Yes. I caught you going out for a walk before you had eaten. What a terrible sin that is. Come, Jane. Sit down and eat.”

“You don’t understand,” she said in chagrin. “My life is unraveling thread by thread.”

“And there is no way to piece it back together?” he asked cautiously.

She thought of the rogue asleep upstairs and smiled a little sadly. “I don’t see how.”

Her stomach contracted in hunger as he lifted the lid of a silver dish to entice her with a dish of crispy fried bacon and poached eggs. She sat, her hands folded in her lap, and sighed. “I could not eat after . . .”

His perceptive gaze rendered the end of the thought superfluous. She fell silent as he mused aloud, “Do you really love the monster all that much?”

“I would not be in this house if I didn’t.”

“Ah.” He glanced down, holding back a grin. “Then I am sorry.” Although for which one of them, he had not yet decided. Obviously Grayson had gone ahead with his plan for revenge, which a few days ago had seemed amusing. But now that Heath sat face-to-face with Jane and formed his own personal opinion, he did not perceive her to be the shallow, duplicitous female he had imagined. Instead, he admired her spirit of initiative in escaping an undesirable marriage—his grin broke free as he remembered Nigel in bed with the Iron Glove.

“Do you find my situation amusing, Heath?”

He shook his head. “Life is what amuses me, Jane.” Rising from his chair, he retrieved the silver teapot on the sideboard to pour cups of steaming black tea for them both. “The servants in this house are remarkably well trained. They do not appear unless they are summoned.”