Читать книгу The Rogue's Disgraced Lady - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 9

Sebastian had no idea quite what he would have said or done next, as a loud knock on the outer door to Juliet’s bedchamber preventing him from doing anything.

‘Perhaps you should go and answer that,’ he advised softly, as Juliet continued to stare up at him rather than respond to the persistence of a second knock.

‘Not before I am sure you understand it is my wish for you to stay well away from me in future!’ Her hands were clenched.

‘I understand.’ He gave her a terse inclination of his head.

Juliet gave him one last narrow-eyed look before turning sharply on her heel to enter her bedchamber, the softness of her slippers making little noise as she hurried across the room to open the door.

Sebastian stepped back into the shadows. No matter what Juliet might choose to think of him, it had never been his intention to involve her in the sort of scandal that his being found with her on the balcony of her bedchamber was sure to incur.

His brows rose as he saw that her late-night visitor was Dolly Bancroft…

Juliet’s legs were still trembling as she quickly opened the door, and her breasts were quickly rising and falling in agitation from her time in Sebastian St Claire’s arms—on her balcony, of all places! So disorientated did Juliet feel that she could only stare blankly at Dolly as she stood in the dimly lit hallway, still dressed in her evening finery.

Her hostess looked slightly flustered. ‘I am sorry to disturb you, Juliet, but there has been a slight accident.’

Was it Juliet’s imagination, or had Dolly Bancroft given a swift glance behind Juliet before speaking? As if she had suspected—no, expected!—that Juliet would not be alone in her bedchamber?

Dolly Bancroft was the person responsible, Juliet felt sure, for giving Sebastian St Claire the bedchamber next to hers. With those adjoining balconies!

Still in that spirit of ‘kindness’, perhaps…?

Her mouth thinned. ‘An accident?’ she enquired.

‘Your maid.’ Dolly reluctantly drew her attention from the bedchamber back to Juliet. ‘Her name is Helena, I believe?’

Juliet drew in a sharp breath at this mention of her cousin. ‘What has happened?’ she asked anxiously.

Dolly sighed. ‘The silly girl seems to have fallen on the stairs and injured her ankle.’

Was her cousin in pain? How badly was she injured? More importantly, had a doctor been called?

‘A footman has carried her up to her room, and one of my other guests—Mr Hallowell—is a physician. He has gone up to examine her even as we speak,’ Dolly Bancroft answered Juliet’s question before she even had the chance to voice it.

‘I must go to her,’ Juliet said.

‘I am sure there is no need for you to trouble yourself, Juliet.’ Dolly frowned at the suggestion. ‘Mr Hallowell is perfectly competent, I assure you.’

‘Nevertheless, I intend to go and see my—Helena for myself.’ Juliet turned to pick up a candle to light her way up the stairs to the servants’ quarters. ‘Surely it would have been better for you to have sent one of the servants to inform me, rather than abandoning your other guests?’

Dolly pursed her lips and her gaze no longer quite met Juliet’s. ‘I thought it best, in the circumstances, if I came and informed you myself.’

‘Circumstances?’ Juliet repeated dryly. ‘What might those be, Dolly?’

‘I—You—’ Dolly Bancroft looked uncharacteristically flustered. ‘I simply thought it best,’ she repeated briskly.

‘Dolly?’

The other woman was suddenly every inch the Countess of Banford as she paused to turn in the hallway and look at Juliet down the length of her pretty nose. ‘I really must return downstairs to my other guests now, Juliet.’

‘Of course.’ Her own manner was just as haughty. ‘In that case you and I will speak again in the morning, Lady Bancroft.’

Some of the starch left Dolly’s expression. ‘Why all this fuss, Juliet?’ She gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘Surely you must agree that St Claire is devilishly handsome?’ She laughed softly. ‘And, not only that, he is the lover that all the women of the ton secretly wish to have as their own!’

Juliet drew herself up to her little over five feet. ‘Then they are welcome to him!’ she announced.

‘Most of them would be only too happy if they could get him. Unfortunately they are not the object of Sebastian’s current interest.’ Dolly gave her a knowing look.

Juliet’s gaze faltered a little and her expression became wary. Was Dolly saying that it was she, in particular, whom St Claire desired? That actually, it was he who was the instigator of their adjoining bedchambers?

Of course Dolly was not saying that, Juliet instantly chided herself; she and His Lordship had not even been introduced until this evening, and the allocation of the bedchambers for the Bancroft guests would have been made long before that.

‘Lord St Claire’s interest in me is not particular,’ she informed the older woman frostily. ‘He is simply an opportunist. A man who sought to use my—my discomfort earlier this evening to his own advantage.’ Juliet’s eyes flashed as she recalled the way the young lord had invaded her balcony only minutes ago and dared to kiss her.

And he was probably on the balcony still—no doubt listening to every word of this conversation!

‘Lord St Claire is a renowned rake. Nothing but a seducer of women!’ Juliet added for good measure.

Sebastian was eavesdropping on the conversation between the two ladies with increasing displeasure. But he’d had no other choice than to remain, trapped as he was outside on the balcony of Juliet’s bedchamber. Any attempt to step back over the dividing ironwork would clearly display him to Dolly’s gaze. Yet this last accusation of Juliet’s was almost enough to make him step forward in protest—and in doing so give away his hiding place to the already suspicious Dolly.

Something Juliet would definitely not thank him for!

But the captivating Countess had to know that Sebastian was still outside on her balcony. Just as she must also be aware that he would overhear her every word. No, her every insult…

Sebastian had no idea at that moment whether he wished to soundly spank Lady Juliet Boyd’s delectable bottom, or just kiss her until she was weak and wanting in his arms! Or whether doing either of those things would bring that trapped look back into her eyes. The same expression Sebastian had seen and questioned a few minutes earlier…

‘Sebastian is usually too busy avoiding those avaricious women to rouse himself into seducing any of them,’ Dolly continued.

‘Then I wish he would stop avoiding them and let himself be caught!’ Juliet snapped. ‘I certainly have no interest in knowing Lord St Claire any better than I already do!’

Dolly gave a rueful shrug. ‘I fear, Juliet, that you will have to inform Sebastian of that yourself.’

Sebastian knew that she just had…

Juliet, reluctant as yet to go downstairs to breakfast and face any of the other guests, requested that the maid Dolly had sent to help her dress return downstairs once this task had been completed, and bring a tray up to her bedchamber.

She had not slept well, and a single glance in the mirror earlier had shown her that this was all too apparent in the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the pallor of her cheeks. Both those things seemed all the more noticeable once her hair was secured on her crown in loose curls.

Juliet had told herself that her restless night was because of her concern for Helena and her badly twisted ankle, but inwardly Juliet knew her insomnia had been for another reason entirely.

Because of another person entirely.

Lord Sebastian St Claire.

Juliet had half expected that he might still be on her balcony when she’d returned from visiting Helena’s room the previous evening. Or, worse, actually awaiting her in her bedchamber. But she had found both her bedchamber and the balcony empty, and a surreptitious glance onto the balcony adjoining hers had shown her that it was also empty, the doors firmly closed, and no lighted candle visible in the bedchamber itself. Indicating that Lord St Claire had either gone to bed or he had rejoined the men downstairs playing cards. Juliet strongly suspected the latter.

One thing she knew for certain: she would not be able to leave today as she had planned. Helena’s ankle was indeed very badly swollen, and Mr Hallowell had advised that she must stay in bed for the day, and perhaps tomorrow, too, to allow for the swelling to go down. More importantly, he’d stated that Helena should not travel any distance for at least the next few days, to aid her recovery. And Juliet could not—would not—depart Banford Park without her.

Another reason for her disturbed and sleepless night.

For if she could not leave Banford Park, then she could not escape seeing St Claire again, either…

‘Is there enough tea in that pot for two?’ A familiar voice interrupted her unwelcome thoughts.

It seemed that Juliet could not escape the persistence of Sebastian St Claire even in her own bedchamber!

Her eyes were wide with disbelief as she stood up to turn and find him standing in the doorway that opened onto her balcony. ‘My bedchamber is not a public thoroughfare, sir!’

‘I should hope not.’ He grinned unrepentantly as he stepped fully into the room.

Juliet supposed she should be grateful that he was at least more suitably dressed this morning, in a fitted superfine coat of dark green, with a paler green waistcoat neatly buttoned beneath, a white cravat meticulously tied at his throat, and black Hessians worn over buff-coloured pantaloons. But that was all she could be grateful for.

‘I meant, My Lord, that I do not recall giving you leave to just enter my bedchamber whenever you please!’ Her eyes flashed her indignation at the liberty he had just taken.

‘Not yet,’ he acknowledged ruefully. ‘I live in the hope that you will soon do so.’

Juliet watched somewhat incredulously as he bent to pick up her own teacup and sip the cooling liquid from the very same spot she had, only seconds ago, those beautiful whisky-coloured eyes deliberately meeting hers over the china cup’s delicate rim.

He was still trying to seduce her, Juliet recognised with an uncomfortable fluttering sensation in her chest.

Sebastian St Claire really was too handsome for his own good. Or for any woman’s good, either—including her own.

This would not do. It really would not do!

Sebastian recognised the signs of Juliet’s impending temper. The glitter of her eyes. The bright spots of colour that appeared in her cheeks. The tilting of her stubborn chin. The tightening of her determined jaw.

He placed the cup unhurriedly back in its saucer. ‘The other female guests are intending to stroll down to the village to look at the Norman church.’ His derisive expression showed exactly what he thought of that plan. ‘I thought perhaps you might prefer to go on a carriage ride with me?’

If anything, her jaw clenched even harder, until he could almost hear her teeth grinding together. ‘Then you were mistaken!’

‘You are looking pale this morning, my dear Juliet,’ Sebastian observed soothingly. ‘Hopefully a little fresh air will bring some of the colour back into your cheeks.’

She drew herself up to her full diminutive height.

‘Lord St Claire—’

‘Yes…?’ His expression was innocently enquiring.

This man was incorrigible, Juliet decided in total frustration. Absolutely impossible! ‘I have no wish to go on a carriage ride—or indeed anything else—with you!’

He raised dark brows. ‘You would rather that we spend the morning together here instead?’

Juliet blinked. By ‘here’ did he mean in her bedchamber? Or was he merely referring to Banford Park?

Whatever his meaning, Juliet was not agreeable to either suggestion. ‘I have no desire to spend the morning in your company at all, My Lord.’

‘Then it is your intention to depart today, as planned?’

‘You must know that it is not.’ She snapped her impatience, sure that he could not have helped overhearing her conversation with Dolly Bancroft the evening before. She’d certainly intended that he hear the remarks she’d meant for him!

‘Must I?’

‘My Lord—’

‘Could you not call me Sebastian when we are alone? I assure you I already think of you as simply Juliet,’ he murmured huskily.

‘I repeat, I have not given you permission—What are you doing?’ Juliet gasped as he took a step that brought him within touching distance, her eyes widening in alarm as she stared up at him.

Sebastian scowled as he once again saw that look of wariness in her face. The same emotion he had recognised in her yesterday evening. An emotion that had kept him awake for some time after he had retired to bed.

He knew that Juliet’s husband had been a much admired and respected member of the House, and an invaluable advisor to the War Cabinet during England’s years of war against Napoleon. He also knew the Earl of Crestwood had been a casual acquaintance of his eldest brother, Hawk. There had never, to Sebastian’s knowledge, been even a whisper of scandal attached to the Earl’s name.

Until after his death.

Even then it had been his wife’s name that had been whispered by the closed ranks of the ton.

But if not Edward Boyd, then who could have put that look of fear into Juliet’s eyes? Whoever or whatever it had been, Sebastian had no intention of adding to it—but he couldn’t give up his pursuit of her now. ‘Juliet, would you please do me the honour of accompanying me on a carriage ride this morning?’ He gave her an encouraging smile.

Juliet was momentarily disconcerted by the sweetness of his smile. ‘It is no more acceptable for the two of us to be alone in a carriage than it is for us to be alone here,’ she declared.

‘It is acceptable to me, Juliet,’ he assured her. ‘And to you, too, I hope?’

This man disturbed her. Disturbed, as well as confused her.

Two very good reasons why she should not allow herself to be persuaded by the beguiling boyishness of his smile! ‘I think not, Lord St Claire.’ She used his title deliberately.

Those whisky-coloured eyes looked directly into hers. ‘You have such an intense interest in Norman churches?’

‘I am not interested in them in the least,’ she admitted. ‘And you do not appear to have any interest in your own good name,’ she added waspishly. ‘To pay marked attention to me once is to risk your reputation,’ she explained at his raised dark brows. ‘To do so twice may mean you lose it completely!’

His mouth quirked. ‘I believe I am the only one who needs be concerned with that unlikely occurrence.’

‘My Lord, you have far more to lose by this association than I—’

‘Juliet, will you please stop arguing and just say yes to my suggestion of a carriage ride?’ he interrupted.

Juliet was torn. On the one hand it would be nice to get away from the curious and censorious gaze of the other guests at Banford Park. But accepting St Claire’s invitation would surely only expose them both to further speculation and gossip.

It would also put her in the position of being completely alone with him in his carriage…

‘You have hesitated long enough, Juliet.’ Sebastian decided to take matters into his own hands. ‘I will collect my hat and gloves and meet you downstairs no longer than ten minutes hence.’ He strode purposefully towards the door.

‘Sebastian!’

A satisfied smile curved his lips at her use of his given name and he turned slowly to look at her.

She closed her eyes briefly. ‘Could you…? Would it be to much to ask that you return to your own room in the same way that you arrived?’ She frowned. ‘It would not do for someone to see you leaving my bedchamber at this hour,’ she explained ruefully.

Sebastian chuckled softly as he inclined his dark head in acknowledgement of her point. ‘Ten minutes, Juliet. Or I will be forced to come looking for you.’

It was impossible for her to miss the threat behind his words. Just as it had been ultimately impossible for her to resist the beguiling nature of his smile. A smile that could charm the birds out of the trees if he so wished. A smile that had certainly charmed Juliet into behaving less than sensibly…

‘…the Black Widow—’

‘I wish you would not call her by that disgusting name!’ Sebastian exclaimed as he and Gray stood talking together in the cavernous entrance hall of Banford Park whilst Sebastian waited for Juliet to join him. ‘Address her as either Lady Boyd or the Countess of Crestwood.’

Gray grimaced. ‘I noticed your marked interest yesterday evening, and was merely enquiring as to whether her presence here could possibly be the reason for our attendance at this house party?’

‘Perhaps,’ Sebastian said coolly. ‘You have some objection to make?’ he added challengingly.

‘I would not dare to, old chap,’ Gray retorted. ‘You may like to give the impression that you live a life of idle pleasure, but I am well aware of how often you spar in the ring, and the many hours a week you spend honing your skill with the sword! If it’s any consolation, Seb, I am in complete sympathy with your interest in the widow. I had forgotten how beautiful she was until I saw her again yesterday evening.’

Sebastian appreciated this observation even less than he had his friend’s earlier remarks. ‘I hope it is not your intention to practise your own charm upon her, Gray?’

Gray opened wide, innocent eyes. ‘I make a point of never incurring the displeasure of a man who can fight and handle a sword better than I!’

The tension in Sebastian’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he finally saw the teasing humour in the other man’s gaze. ‘Tell me, Gray, what do you know of Edward Boyd?’

‘The husband?’ His friend gave a shrug. ‘Would your brother Hawk not be the best man to ask such a question?’

‘Unfortunately, Hawk is not here.’ Sebastian’s eldest brother might give the impression that he was too aristocratically top-lofty to even notice lesser beings than himself—which included just about everyone!—but that indifference was a façade; Hawk’s intelligence was formidable, and if he chose he could be the most astute of men. Certainly Hawk’s opinion of Edward Boyd would be worth hearing.

‘Most people seem to have held Crestwood in high esteem,’ Gray observed with a slight frown. ‘He was a hero at Trafalgar, don’t you know?’

Of course Sebastian knew of the Earl of Crestwood’s war record. He might have been still at school when the famous sea battle had occurred, but as a fifteen-year-old youth he had of course been very interested in it, and had read about the heroes of that battle.

His interest in the Earl’s wife had come much later, when he had happened to see Juliet during a ball at which he’d been forced by Hawk into acting as escort to their young sister Arabella during her first Season.

Tiny, almost ethereal, the Countess had nevertheless possessed a presence, an otherworldly beauty, that had instantly captured Sebastian’s interest.

He realised now that perhaps he should have paid more attention to Crestwood that night as he’d stood so arrogantly at Juliet’s side. That he should have observed more closely the relationship that existed between the married couple…

‘Our host is probably the chap you need to speak to if you want to know more about Crestwood,’ Gray suggested.

‘Bancroft?’

Gray nodded. ‘Both members of the House of Lords. Both were advisers to the War Cabinet during the war against Napoleon. Bancroft is sure to know something of the other man.’

‘Never mind that for now, Gray…’ Sebastian’s interest was swiftly distracted as he spotted Juliet, moving gracefully down the wide staircase to where he stood waiting.

A silk beribboned bonnet of the same peach colour as her high-waisted gown covered the darkness of Juliet’s curls, and she carried a lacy parasol to keep the worst of the sun’s rays from burning the pale delicacy of her complexion.

Everything about Juliet Boyd was delicate, Sebastian acknowledged with a sudden frown. From the top of her dark curls down to her tiny slippered feet.

Juliet’s gaze became wary as she looked up and saw the fierce expression on Sebastian’s face as she joined him. ‘Am I interrupting…?’ She voiced her uncertainty.

‘Not in the least, Lady Boyd,’ Sebastian’s companion assured her warmly. It was a fashionably dressed dark-haired, grey-eyed gentleman that Juliet vaguely recalled as being seated some way down the dinner table from her yesterday evening. ‘Lord Gideon Grayson,’ he introduced himself smoothly as he gave a courtly bow.

Juliet curtseyed, at the same time raising her hand.

‘I am pleased to meet you, Lord—’

‘If it’s all the same to you, Gray, the Countess and I are in something of a hurry,’ Sebastian cut in, before the other man could take her hand. Instead he placed that gloved hand on his own arm and held it there by placing his hand firmly on top of it. ‘Enjoy your morning, Gray,’ he added mockingly.

With her fingers firmly tucked in the crook of his arm, Juliet had little choice but to follow as Sebastian strode arrogantly across the hallway and out through the front door to where one of the grooms stood waiting beside a gleaming black curricle drawn by two matching greys.

Juliet did not need to be told that the vehicle belonged to Sebastian St Claire; the rakish style of the carriage matched its owner perfectly!

‘Were you not a little rude to Lord Grayson just now?’ Juliet ventured, once Sebastian had aided her ascent into the carriage before dismissing the groom to step in beside her and take up the reins.

‘Was I?’ he said evasively, his expression unreadable beneath the brim of his hat as he flicked the greys into an elegant trot.

Juliet fell silent as she pretended an interest in the countryside that surrounded Banford Park. Pretended, because after that scene in the hall her thoughts were all inward!

She knew she should be used to the cuts and snubs of the ton after being the subject of them so recently. And she was. It was just that after his earlier contempt for such behaviour she had expected more of Sebastian St Claire. The fact that he had not even wanted to introduce her to a man who was obviously his friend showed Juliet how naïve had been that expectation.

No doubt it was all well and good for St Claire to accost her on the privacy of her balcony or in her bedchamber. To whisk her away from curious eyes in his curricle. But to have him actually introduce her to one of his friends was obviously too much to ask.

For all Juliet knew she could be the subject of some sort of wager between St Claire and his friends. It was common practice, she believed, for gentlemen to make such wagers at their London clubs. In this case perhaps the first man to bed the Black Widow was to become the winner of this wager.

‘Juliet…?’

Her eyes flashed with anger. ‘I have changed my mind, My Lord,’ she snapped, her back rigid. ‘I wish for you to take me back to Banford Park immediately!’

Sebastian glanced down at her searchingly. Whatever thoughts had been going through her head the last few minutes they had not been pleasant ones—as the anger in those deep green eyes testified.

He shook his head. ‘Not until you tell me what I have done to upset you.’

‘I am not upset,’ she denied.

‘No?’ Sebastian rasped, patently not amused.

She drew in a ragged breath. ‘Would you please turn your curricle around and return me to Banford Park?’

‘No.’

‘No…?’ she echoed uncertainly.

They were some distance from Banford Park now, but instead of continuing on the road as he had intended, Sebastian turned the greys down a rutted track, entering a grove of trees before pulling his horses to a halt.

Before Juliet could so much as voice a word of protest he had jumped lithely down from the curricle to come round and offer her his hand, so that she might join him on the ground.

She made no effort to do so, but instead raised her chin in challenge. ‘I should warn you, Lord St Claire, that I have no intention of allowing you to seduce me!’

Sebastian found himself grinning at the fierceness of her expression. ‘I assure you, my dear, that my preference is for the comfort of a bed, or perhaps even a well-upholstered sofa, when my thoughts turn to seduction!’

She blinked her surprise. ‘Then why have you brought me here?’

‘To take a stroll in the sunshine, perhaps? To breathe in the fresh, clean air? To appreciate the beauty that surrounds us?’

It was a pretty spot, Juliet acknowledged frowningly, with the dappled sun shining through the trees overhead upon wild flowers in bloom in pinks and yellows and purples.

Except Sebastian had been looking at Juliet and not the flowers or the trees when he’d made that last remark…

Warmth coloured her cheeks as he continued to look at her with unconcealed admiration. ‘I can as easily appreciate all of those things from my balcony at Banford Park.’

The humour left his gaze. ‘I believe we can talk more privately here, Juliet.’

Juliet didn’t care for the sudden and probing intensity of that whisky-coloured gaze. ‘Concerning what subject, sir?’

‘If you join me I will tell you.’ He held out his hand for a second time.

Juliet continued to eye him warily, at the same time impatiently dismissing her feelings of alarm. She was a woman of thirty years. Had been married and widowed. She ran the house, and the smaller estate she had moved to after Edward’s death, with a competency that surprised even her. So why should a man younger than herself, whose reputation was that of a rake and an incorrigible flirt, give her reason to feel in the least uncertain of herself?

He should not!

‘You really are behaving most childishly, My Lord,’ she told him frostily, but she moved to place her gloved hand on his so that she might descend from the curricle.

Sebastian’s face hardened as he ignored that hand and instead reached up to place both his hands about her waist, before lifting her aloft and swinging her out of the carriage.

For several seconds, as he lifted her, Juliet found their gazes on a level, and her body was perilously close to Sebastian’s as she stared into the golden depths of his eyes and saw—