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Chapter Six

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‘You are here, too, Gray?’ Sebastian did not even try to hide his surprise upon finding his friend already seated in the Earl of Banford’s study when he duly presented himself there at the assigned hour of ten o’clock.

Nor did Sebastian attempt to conceal his irritation as he refused to take the seat the Earl offered, facing him across the width of his leather-topped desk; Sebastian had suffered through enough such interviews over the years with his brother Hawk, to know better than to meekly sit and accept the set-down he believed was coming. A set-down he deeply resented.

‘I am perfectly comfortable standing, thank you,’ he assured the older man, and he moved to stand with his back towards the window, hands clasped behind his back, the width of his shoulders blocking out most of the sunlight.

The Earl nodded. ‘My wife tells me that you and Lady Boyd have argued …?’

‘What the—?’ Sebastian’s scowl deepened as he stiffened resentfully. He had believed his earlier conversation with Dolly to be of a private nature, known only to the two of them. And in part to Juliet Boyd herself, of course … ‘Dolly had no right to relate any of that conversation to you,’ he said, outraged.

‘I am afraid that she did.’ The Earl’s expression was sympathetic, but at the same time determined. ‘You see, it is not in our interest that you argue with Lady Boyd.’

‘“Our interest”?’ Sebastian’s brow darkened ominously as he looked at the earl and Gray. ‘Would someone kindly tell me what on earth is going on?’

‘Calm down, old chap,’ Gray advised him.

‘No, I do not believe I will,’ Sebastian grated.

‘At least hear what Bancroft has to say before you threaten to call him out,’ Gray soothed.

The Earl rose to his feet, as if he too found the confinement of being seated irksome. ‘Have you not wondered why it was, when two weeks ago you made your request to my wife that she invite the Countess here to stay, she had already done so?’

‘Why should I?’ Sebastian shrugged. ‘The two ladies were friends once, were they not?’

‘Perhaps,’ the Earl acknowledged cautiously. ‘But I am afraid in this instance that friendship did not signify. My wife issued the invitation to Lady Boyd at my behest.’

‘You have lost me, I am afraid.’ Sebastian’s morning so far had not been in the least conducive to holding on to his temper, and the Earl’s enigmatic conversation now was only succeeding in increasing his annoyance.

‘I am sure you are aware of the … rumours surrounding the Earl of Crestwood’s death?’

‘Not you, too!’ Sebastian strode forcefully, impatiently, into the middle of the book-lined room. ‘You—’ he looked pointedly at the Earl of Banford ‘—gave every indication that you’d befriended the Countess yesterday evening. And you—’ his eyes glittered dangerously as he turned his attention on Gray ‘—flirt with the lady every time the two of you meet. Am I now to believe that you both think her capable of killing her own husband?’

‘That is the whole point of this conversation, Sebastian.’ Once again it was Gray who answered softly. ‘The simple answer is we do not know what the lady is capable of.’

‘Boyd has been dead these past eighteen months,’ Sebastian said coldly. ‘If by some chance Juliet did do away with him—’ his gaze narrowed ‘—then I am sure she was justified.’ That look of wariness, almost of apprehension, he had on several occasions seen in Juliet’s eyes, certainly seemed to indicate that someone—and who else could it be but Crestwood?—had given her good reason to fear.

‘Ah.’

‘Hmm.’

Sebastian easily noted the glance that passed between the other two men in accompaniment to their unhelpful replies.

He could not ignore the uneasy feeling that was starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. The Earl claimed Dolly had invited Juliet here at his behest. And Gray, Sebastian now recalled, had made only a nominal complaint at being dragged along to a summer house party he would normally have refused to attend. Gray had also been the one chosen to sit next to Juliet at dinner yesterday evening in Sebastian’s stead. Now he discovered that Gray and the Earl of Banford were far better acquainted than he had previously thought ….

‘Very well.’ He seated himself in one of the winged armchairs beside the unlit fireplace before looking at the other the two men with grim determination. ‘One or both of you had better tell me exactly what is going on, or you will leave me with no choice but to go to the Countess of Crestwood and inform her of this conversation.’

‘You know, Grayson, I do believe you and Dolly may have been correct in your opinion of St Claire’s intellect,’ the Earl commented with approval.

‘Seb’s a capital chap,’ the younger man answered blithely.

‘Seb is fast becoming a blazingly angry one!’ he warned them harshly.

‘Very well.’ The Earl looked him straight in the eye. ‘I am happy to talk frankly, but before doing so I will require your word as a gentleman that once this conversation is over you will not discuss its details with a third party.’

Sebastian knew without the other man saying so that in this case the ‘third party’ he referred to was the Countess of Crestwood ….

Up till now Sebastian had always found Dolly’s husband to be an affable and charming man. A man it was difficult not to like, but with no more to him than that.

These last few minutes of conversation showed there was much more to the Earl of Banford, and to his own friend Gray, than Sebastian had previously realised … and he didn’t like knowing that at all.

‘… and so you see you have totally misjudged poor St Claire, I am afraid, dear Juliet,’ Dolly admonished gently as the two women sat together in her private parlour.

Juliet had been reluctant to accept Dolly’s invitation to join her here when the other woman had come upon her still standing in the hallway after Sebastian had so abruptly taken his leave. After all, Dolly had been just as guilty of discussing her as Sebastian had! To now hear that he had actually been dismissing the idea of Juliet being guilty of any involvement in Edward’s death, rather than accusing her, made her feel more than a little foolish.

For now it appeared she owed Sebastian not one apology but two!

‘After all the gossip and speculation this last year and a half, it is a subject about which I am naturally a little sensitive,’ Juliet acknowledged stiffly.

‘But of course, my dear.’ Dolly gave her hand an understanding pat. ‘I can be a sympathetic ear if you ever feel the need to talk privately ….’

How Juliet longed to tell someone about her years as Edward’s wife. Longed to tell of those nights when he had come to her bed and taken her with cold indifference to the pain he was inflicting. Of his cruelty in the early months of their marriage, when she’d still thought it worth pleading for his gentleness and understanding. Pleas she had ceased to make after that single occasion when Edward had shown her just how much more pain and humiliation he could inflict when thwarted.

Oh, yes, Juliet longed to tell someone of those things, but knew that she never would ….

‘I thank you for the offer, Dolly.’ She smiled, to take any offence from her refusal. ‘But for the moment I would much rather discuss how I am to go about apologising to Lord St Claire for this latest misunderstanding.’

If Dolly was disappointed in Juliet’s determination not to talk about the past, then she gave no indication of it as she instead laughed huskily. ‘Oh, my dear, you must not be so eager to concede that you were in the wrong. Men are fond of believing themselves in the right of it, you know, and to eat a little humble pie on occasion does them no harm whatsoever.’

Despite her earlier tension, Juliet found herself laughing at Dolly’s nonsense. ‘But in this case Lord St Claire was in the right of it …’

‘I did not say you have to punish him for ever, my dear.’ Dolly gave her a conspiratorial smile. ‘Just long enough for him to feel the cold chill of your displeasure. The ball I am giving tomorrow evening should be time enough to allow yourself to forgive him.’

Juliet raised dark brows. ‘So I am to forgive him, then?’

‘Of course.’ Dolly gave a gracious inclination of her head. ‘I have found with Bancroft that it is by far the best way. By the time I have finished forgiving him he is usually so befuddled he has quite forgotten that he was not actually to blame for our fall-out, and is just grateful that we are … friends again!’

Juliet felt colour warm her cheeks as she realised what sort of friendship the other woman was alluding to. ‘You quite misunderstand my relationship with Lord St Claire—’

‘It is still early days yet, Juliet,’ Dolly pointed out.

She shook her head. ‘I assure you I have no intention of ever becoming that sort of friend with Sebastian St Claire.’

Or any other man ….

Sebastian’s expression remained outwardly calm as the Earl talked. Which was not to say that he was not disturbed by the older man’s conversation—only he had no intention of revealing his own thoughts at Bancroft’s talk of agents of the Crown and treachery.

Bancroft, it appeared, had for some years been involved in such a network of agents, of which Gray—a man Sebastian had known since childhood—appeared to be a member! Dolly, too, if Sebastian understood the Earl correctly; all those years Dolly had been the mistress of one member of the aristocracy or another she had been reporting information back to Bancroft!

‘So it appears Crestwood was either responsible himself for passing along privileged information, or it was someone else close to him in whom he confided,’ Bancroft finished gravely.

Sebastian realised he had been guilty of allowing his thoughts to wander. But, hell, what man would not when confronted with such a fantastic tale? ‘Let me see if I understand this clearly. You are saying that Crestwood, or someone close to him, for years passed along privileged information to the French? That such information was used to forestall several English efforts to defeat Bonaparte, and also to aid the Corsican’s escape from Elba two years ago?’

‘I am saying exactly that,’ the Earl confirmed.

Sebastian’s brother Lucian had resigned his commission in the army when Bonaparte had finally surrendered, but he had returned to duty the following year, along with his fellow officers, in order to participate in the battle at Waterloo, following Napoleon’s escape from Elba. Lucian had returned from that last battle a hard and embittered man, and most of his friends had not returned at all ….

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. ‘You also believe that this “someone close” to the earl was his wife? That if the heroic Crestwood did not do it, then it must therefore have been Juliet who was the traitor?’

Gray frowned. ‘Crestwood was a hero and a gentleman, Seb. But he was not a man who had close friends as you and I do. In effect, there was no other person close to him except his countess. Now Crestwood is conveniently dead, and so unable to deny or admit these allegations.’

Sebastian stood up restlessly. ‘You are claiming that Lady Boyd deliberately pushed Crestwood down the stairs to his death in order to cover up her duplicity?’

His friend nodded. ‘It is reasonable to suppose that Crestwood finally discovered his wife’s treachery, and that when he confronted her with it, she pushed him down the stairs to stop him from making her conduct public.’

‘Is it not a simpler explanation that the man was foxed?’

‘The man did not drink strong liquor of any kind.’

‘Then perhaps he fell.’

‘He stood the deck of his own ship for over twenty years—are you seriously expecting us, or anyone else, to believe that he lost his balance at the top of his own staircase?’ Gray calmed with effort. ‘Besides, several of the servants heard the sounds of an argument only minutes before the Earl’s fall.’

Sebastian gave a disdainful snort. ‘Servants have been known to say anything if they believe it might earn them a guinea or two!’

‘No such bribery was offered,’ the Earl assured him.

Still Sebastian could not countenance the idea that Juliet was guilty of deliberately murdering her husband, let alone of treason. Although the sacrifice Lucian and his friends had made during the war said he had to hear Bancroft out … ‘The man was such a prig that he had no real friends, and such a paragon that he did not drink alcohol. Therefore it must be his wife who is the one guilty of treason? Of pushing Crestwood to his death so that he could not reveal her perfidy?’ Sebastian shook his head. ‘That seems to be rather a leap to have made on so little evidence, gentlemen.’

‘There is more, St Claire.’ The Earl’s tone immediately drew Sebastian’s attention. ‘Lady Boyd’s aunt, the sister of her mother, lived in France with her French husband—Pierre Jourdan. As a child, Juliet Chatterton spent many summers in France, with this aunt and uncle and her young female cousin.’

‘Does that mean that every English man or woman who has connections with the French, however tenuous, is suspect? My own valet is French. Does that make me guilty of treason, too?’

‘You are not taking this at all as I had hoped, St Claire.’ The Earl looked most unhappy with Sebastian’s response.

Possibly because Sebastian would much rather not think of Juliet in the role Bancroft and Gray had chosen to thrust her into!

She was full of defensive bristles, yes. But what woman would not be when she had come to Banford Park knowing she was entering the lions’ den? That all of Society believed her as guilty of killing her husband as Bancroft and Gray so obviously did? But Sebastian had seen that air of vulnerability and fear that Juliet was normally at such pains to disguise.

Until now Sebastian had assumed that fear to have somehow been caused by Crestwood’s treatment of her during their marriage, but logically it could likewise be apprehension at the thought of discovery …

Two weeks ago he had told Dolly that he did not care one way or the other whether or not Juliet had killed her husband, but his loyalty for Lucian said he should take Bancroft’s suggestion of treason much more seriously.

‘The Countess’s young cousin arrived in England six years ago, after her parents were killed during a raid by French soldiers on their manor home,’ Bancroft continued remorselessly. ‘The girl was held prisoner by the French for a week before managing to escape and flee to England. We can only guess at what she must have suffered at the soldiers’ hands.’

‘Would those events not mean that Juliet Boyd has every reason to hate the French rather than aid them?’ Sebastian pounced on this inconsistency in their argument.

‘Alternatively, she may have been responsible for betraying her relatives to the French because she knew of their sympathies towards the English,’ Bancroft pointed out.

Sebastian felt a coldness slither down the length of his spine at the thought of the beautiful Juliet betraying her family and husband—his brother Lucian and his fellow soldiers, too—in the way Bancroft described. It could not be true. Could it?

‘There is something else, St Claire,’ the Earl added.

‘Go on,’ he rasped.

‘Two weeks ago a missive to a known French agent was intercepted by one of my own agents. It read simply, “Active again. J.”’

Active again. J.

And the missive had been sent two weeks ago.

The exact time Dolly had issued her invitation to Juliet to attend this summer house party ….

‘I have always believed, my dear Juliet, that if a woman decides to take a lover then she should at least ensure he is an accomplished one,’ Dolly Bancroft advised archly.

Juliet’s cheeks burned at the thought of the intimacies she had already allowed Sebastian St Claire. Intimacies Juliet had shared with no other man ….

She shook her head. ‘I assure you I have no intention of taking a lover.’

‘Why would you not?’ The other woman looked scandalised. ‘You have been widowed these last eighteen months, Juliet; do not tell me you do not miss the pleasure of having a virile man in your bed?’

How could Juliet miss something she had never known? Something she had only begun to guess at since Sebastian had touched and caressed her …?

Would this burning in her cheeks ever stop? ‘I am not sure this is a—an altogether fitting conversation, Dolly.’

‘I am sure it is not!’ Her hostess laughed naughtily. ‘But men, I am sure, discuss such things at their clubs all the time, so why should the ladies not do the same when alone together? I can claim with all honesty that Bancroft is a wonderful lover. Was Crestwood the same?’

‘Dolly!’ Juliet gasped weakly.

The other woman’s gaze was shrewdly searching. ‘I see by your reaction that he was not.’ She gave a disgusted shake of her head. ‘How disappointing for you. I am of the opinion that being proficient in the art of lovemaking is as important for a man to learn as running an estate or riding a horse.’

Juliet really was unused to such frank and intimate conversation. ‘Crestwood ran his estate with precision, and he could ride a horse, as well as any man.’

‘Then it was only as a lover that he failed to please?’ Dolly nodded knowingly. ‘One only has to look at St Claire to know how wonderful he would be as a lover. The width of his shoulders. His muscled chest and the flatness of his stomach. As for the pleasure promised by his powerful hips and thighs … My dear, I am sure he is virile enough to keep even the most demanding of women happy in his bed!’

All this talk of pleasure and virile men, and most especially of Sebastian St Claire’s bed, was only increasing Juliet’s discomfort. But in a way that made her breasts swell beneath her gown and their tips harden as she once again felt that strange warmth between her thighs she had known when Sebastian had touched and caressed her so intimately the evening before ….

Sebastian’s mouth thinned. ‘I agree the truth needs to be established. But,’ he added firmly, ‘I refuse to condemn Lady Boyd on what amounts to superficial evidence.’

William Bancroft gave an inclination of his head. ‘I am pleased to hear it.’

Sebastian’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. ‘You are?’

‘But of course.’ The older man resumed his seat behind the leather-topped desk. ‘That is the very reason we are having this conversation.’

‘Explain yourself, if you please.’

‘Seb—’

‘Do not concern yourself, Grayson,’ the Earl interjected. ‘St Claire is quite right to advise caution. To accuse someone of treason is a serious business. And while Lady Boyd—this French agent—remained inactive, indeed there was no need for haste. The fact that she—or he—is now back amongst us, prepared to take up their treasonous role once more, has changed things somewhat. I should, of course, have had this conversation with you some weeks ago, St Claire, when you first spoke to my wife concerning your interest in the Countess of Crestwood. I delayed doing so only because I felt it best to wait and see if the lady returned your interest.’

‘She does not.’

‘Oh, we believe that she does.’ The earl smiled knowingly.

‘Then you believe wrongly.’ Sebastian glared coldly at the older man. ‘Lady Boyd has strongly resisted all my advances.’

‘She is naturally cautious, I admit.’ The older man nodded. ‘But I have known the lady for some years, dined with her and Crestwood on a number of occasions, and as such I have had ample time in which to study her. She is a woman of reticence. Of reserve. So much so that she is polite to all but allows none close to her. You have managed to breach that reserve on several occasions in the last few days, I believe …?’

‘Damn it, I refuse to discuss a lady in this way!’

‘You do not need to do so, St Claire. Dolly is talking with Lady Boyd even as we speak. I have no doubt that she will ably ascertain whether or not the lady has developed a … tendre for you.’

‘You go too far, sir!’ Sebastian could never remember feeling so angry with anyone before.

‘I go as far as I need!’ the Earl assured him evenly. ‘If Lady Boyd is guilty of all we suspect, then I consider my actions as necessary as a soldier’s in battle when confronted with the enemy.’

If she is guilty!’ Sebastian repeated pointedly. ‘Until you have positive proof of that I, for one, will not condemn the lady.’

‘I was hoping that you might feel that way ….’

He eyed the older man suspiciously, even as a nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘Exactly what are you suggesting …?’

William Bancroft eyed him speculatively. ‘Why, that you find some way to go about either proving or disproving the lady’s innocence, of course.’

Some way? What way do you have in mind, exactly?’ Sebastian wanted to know.

The other man shrugged. ‘A man and a woman are apt to discuss many things once the bedding is over.’

Sebastian stared at the other man as if he had gone completely insane. Bancroft must be insane if he really thought that Sebastian could play Juliet so false. Was this Dolly’s idea of what Sebastian should do in order to change his life from one of idleness and pleasure?

Family. Honour. Loyalty to friends …

Those were the things Sebastian had last night informed Juliet Boyd he took seriously. To behave in the way William Bancroft described—to bed Juliet, make love to her, with the sole intention of discovering her innocence or guilt in treason and murder—would be to behave completely without honour.

But if the Countess of Crestwood really was as guilty as Bancroft seemed to think, then did not Sebastian also owe it to Lucian, to all his brother’s friends, so many of whom had fallen at Waterloo, to apprehend someone who might have been instrumental in aiding Bonaparte’s escape from Elba and so precipitated that bloody battle?

Which left loyalty to friends …

The Earl gave a weary sigh. ‘I am well aware of what we ask of you, St Claire, and appreciate that you will need some time to think on it.’

‘Why do you not merely question the lady and be done with it?’ Sebastian, despite that loyalty he felt towards Lucian, was still loath to agree to such a nefarious and ungentlemanly plan.

‘As I have already explained, while Agent J was inactive there was no haste to do anything but keep a silent watch. Now that Agent J is active again we stand a chance of locating and ultimately arresting a whole network of French agents. Besides, at this moment in time we do not have enough evidence to either question the Countess in connection with treason and murder or indeed clear her name of all such charges.’

He was asking Sebastian to find and then produce that evidence ….

His gaze narrowed on the two men. ‘And if I had not succeeded in finding favour with the Countess? Who was to take my place in her bed then? You, Gray?’ He looked accusingly at the other man, knowing by the way Gray moved uncomfortably in his chair that his surmise was a correct one. ‘You are both mad, I think!’

‘Your own brother returned from Waterloo, Seb. Mine did not.’ Gray’s face was pale and tense.

Sebastian’s fingers involuntarily clenched into purposeful bunches of five. What would Hawk do in such a situation? What would Lucian do if offered the chance of avenging some of the friends he’d lost at Waterloo?

‘And if I refuse?’ He eyed the Earl warily.

‘Then be assured I will take your place, Seb,’ Gray told him bluntly. ‘I feel no reservation, no hesitation in attempting to woo and win the Countess’s confidence. I will bed her, too, if it will give us the answers we require.’

Gray to flatter and charm Juliet? Gray to seduce her? To bed her? Never!

‘I feel no hesitation, either, in giving you both my answer,’ Sebastian said stiffly.

Gray sat forward anxiously. ‘Seb, I ask that you do not act in haste—’

‘You no longer have any part in this conversation, Gray,’ he told his friend. ‘The two of us will talk together at some later date about the role you have played in this farce.’ A later date when Sebastian was not so angry he felt like striking Gray rather than talking to him, his steely tone warned! He turned back to Lord Bancroft. ‘I will endeavour to engage the Countess’s interest further,’ he accepted, feeling utter distaste for such deceit. ‘But only on the understanding that I do this for Juliet Boyd’s own sake, and not your own,’ he added firmly. ‘When I have assured you of her innocence, I will then expect you to apologise both to her and to me.’

If Sebastian succeeded in assuring these two men of Juliet’s innocence ….

Tall, Dark & Irresistible

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