The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

by Jillian Hunter

  There was only one thing left to do. Confess everything. Apologize to all parties involved. Then throw what was left of herself upon the mercy of Cecily and her duke while the world decried her. Perhaps she would become a governess to their children and spank wicked young boys for a living. The worst of it would be Grayson’s reaction. He would hardly show that her deceit had hurt him. He would simply cut her dead.

  She wasn’t fool enough to think she could confess to his face and live to tell of it. He would never forgive her. He would probably laugh if she tried to explain how desperately she had wanted to avoid an arranged marriage. And, frankly, she was too much of a coward even to dare. She would write him a letter and leave it under his pillow.

  As she turned to the rosewood escritoire by the window, she noticed that the room had been efficiently tidied by one of his discreet staff. A hip bath sat beside the screen, filled with steaming water. Thick clean towels lay plumped up on the bed, and a bowl of fragrant musk roses occupied the nightstand.

  And on the dressing table next to her treasured mouse brooch sat a new blue velvet jeweler’s box with a card tucked beneath it. She read it twice, tears blurring her eyes.

  Something to commemorate our first of many nights together.

  G

  Inside the box she found a large marquis-cut diamond pendant on a gold chain. Costly. Elegant. The gift a generous man would give a mistress to mark a night of passion.

  “Do you like it?” Grayson asked quietly from the door.

  She let the necklace slither through her fingers. “It’s absolutely extravagant. I wish I could accept it.”

  “Of course you can. Why don’t you undress and model it for me?”

  “I beg your pardon. At this time of day?”

  He gave her a long sultry look. “Morning or midnight. I am obsessed with you, Jane.” He closed the door behind him. “It is my pleasure to give you jewels.”

  How was a woman supposed to rally a defense when a man made remarks like that? How was she expected to think when he locked his arms around her waist and pulled her down with him into the chair? Her heart was aching as he sank his fingers in her hair and silenced her protests with the most tender of kisses. She had shared his bed and did not regret it.

  “Jane,” he whispered. “Thank you for last night.”

  She closed her eyes, envisioning his face when he found her letter, cringing at the very thought of how disgusted, how angry he would be. He was so unforgiving of Chloe’s rebellions, so convinced of the male duty to dominate a woman’s life. He would never understand what she had done.

  “Is something wrong, Jane?” he asked gently. “Those aren’t tears in your eyes, are they?”

  “Promise me something, Grayson.”

  “Anything,” he said, brushing her cheek with his knuckle.

  “Promise me you won’t hurt Nigel.”

  He went still. “It really is intolerable that you mention his name to me while you are in my arms.”

  “Will you promise me that?”

  His blue eyes bored into her. “People deserve to be punished when they hurt others. Don’t you agree?”

  “I’m not sure.” His gaze pinned her unmercifully with its piercing intensity. As much as she loved him, there were moments when she could have cheerfully hit him into oblivion. “There are times to forgive.”

  “Not in my book. Shall we discuss something else?”

  “Please, Grayson. I ask only this one thing of you.”

  “What will you give me in return?”

  She might have agreed to give him whatever his wicked heart wanted had heavy footsteps not come echoing up the stairs, pounding down the hall to their room.

  “Grayson!” an irreverent male voice shouted outside the door. “Where the deuce are you hiding? I just left Helene in London, and the woman is cursing you to the heavens. Are you in there?”

  “God almighty,” Grayson muttered, throwing an irate look at the door. “It’s Drake. Stay here while I get rid of him.”

  She eased herself out from his arms. “Promise me you will not do anything to Nigel.”

  His face reflective, he rose to his feet and straightened the long tails of his coat. “I shall have to think about this, Jane. Remember that Nigel and his parents have depended on the largesse of my family for years. His behavior is an insult to both me and you.”

  The male voices outside the door gradually faded away. Jane undressed and lowered herself into the copper-lined bath, contemplating her future as a fallen woman. As soon as she had completed her toilette, she would compose two letters. One to Grayson, another to her family, although after the way her father had practically thrown her to the lion, she did not hold hope that he would forgive her for the shame she had caused the family.

  She sighed, thinking of her sisters, of the pleasant life she had taken for granted, of the way Papa had bullied and protected her, of the marriage he’d arranged because he believed that Nigel would be good to her.

  She sank deeper into the scented water, her brow furrowed in troubled concentration.

  Papa’s behavior seemed so irrational. And had her mother actually supported his moral about-face, this shove of their socially disgraced daughter into her sybaritic lifestyle? It was so out of character for her parents. After all, their reasons for selecting Nigel had been his good-natured gentleness, his puppylike loyalty, his apparent lack of interest in rakish pursuits.

  In short, they had chosen Nigel because he was the exact opposite of Grayson. Which only made their betrayal all the more mysterious. Unless—

  She dropped her sponge into the water.

  Unless they knew. Unless one of her sisters had blurted out her secret about her pact with Nigel. Making Jane in their eyes to be the betrayer, not the betrayed.

  And if her entire family knew her secret, chances were that Grayson knew, and this whole humiliating situation smacked of Boscastle arrogance through and through.

  He knew everything.

  Their session at the modiste’s. The change that had come over him. The heartless gleam in his eye. His sudden desire to bring her to Brighton.

  He knew.

  She had been the unwitting pawn in his diabolical scheme. But for how long? For what purpose?

  He knew.

  She surged out of the tub, Venus on the warpath as scented water sloshed all over his plush Axminster carpet.

  “Oh, the fiend,” she muttered, standing stark naked and dripping in front of the dressing table. “That scheming son of Satan! Playing with me like a lion would”—her eyes lit on the diamond brooch—“a mouse!”

  The fact it was her scheming that had caused this imbroglio did surface in her thoughts, but she promptly buried it under a blanket of righteous indignation. Turn her into a high-class courtesan, would he? Parade her in diamonds and pink silk, eh? Never in a thousand years with her strait-laced Papa have agreed to such a thing without a compelling reason.

  Well, it would take a Boscastle to best a Boscastle, and Jane had no doubt where to find the weakest link in the family line.

  She dressed and marched barefooted straight down the hall to Chloe’s room, chasing out the maid who was trying to return the room to a semblance of order. Chloe apparently had plunged back into her passion for social reform after learning that her cavalry officer William had been sent to a new barracks in Devon. Now she lay curled up on the chaise, her lap heaped with letters to friends in Parliament, a box of half-nibbled chocolates, and a list of works she intended to tackle. The blinds were closed to emphasize the aura of solemnity, and Chloe merely raised her brow when Jane stormed into the room.

  “Ah.” She tossed back her thick black hair, her voice sympathetic. “Your first fight with my beastly brother, is it? I don’t know what you see in him anyway. Chocolates for the lovelorn?”

  “I want the truth, Chloe.”

  “Truth?” Chloe put down her pen, her attention caught. “He’s a tyrant, a destroyer of all one holds dear. That is the truth
. He went over William’s head and had him sent to Devon to deal with smugglers. My brother ruined any chance that I would ever see him again. Not that I should have, mind you, but it would have been nice to say good-bye.”

  “I am sorry for your loss, Chloe, but I must know something. Why did Grayson bring me here?”

  “I should think that was obvious,” Chloe said, not unkindly. “Poor Jane. I held such high hopes that you would resist him.”

  “Answer me.”

  Chloe appraised her in silence, her blue eyes bright with conflicting emotions. “I have never, never, ever in my life betrayed a Boscastle secret, but as you are practically a Boscastle and a member of my sex, I am honor bound to do so.”

  Jane sank down on the chaise, her skin tingling at the vengeful note in Chloe’s voice. “What are you saying?”

  “Grayson and Heath don’t know that I know,” Chloe said in hesitation.

  “That you know what?”

  “They didn’t tell me.”

  “Didn’t tell you what?”

  “I eavesdropped, you see. I was hiding in the library when Grayson sent for the solicitors.”

  “Chloe, if you do not give me a straight answer this instant, I shall dangle you out the window by your hair until you do.”

  Chloe’s soft pink mouth pursed in disapproval. “You already sound like a Boscastle.”

  “Why did Grayson send for his solicitors?”

  Chloe leaned forward. “Will you protect me from his wrath when he finds out I was the one to peach on him?”

  Jane straightened in alarm. What horrendous thing had Grayson done behind her back? “I shall do my best.”

  “Nigel told Heath everything, everything, Jane, about how the pair of you conspired to thwart your parents so that he could marry Esther, about the generous wedding gift you gave them, about the months of plotting.”

  “Nigel, who swore to me he would never reveal our pact even if he were put to torture,” Jane cried in outrage, although she really ought not to be surprised. “Oh, the spineless coward. I shall throttle him for this. If Esther has not already done so.”

  “Heath can be very intimidating when he wants to,” Chloe said.

  “So can Grayson.”

  “It appears to be a family trait.”

  “Kindly return to the subject, Chloe.”

  “Oh, well, as you have probably already guessed, Heath told Grayson, who reacted in typical high-handed fashion. Did he confront you and give you a chance to explain? No, he summoned his solicitors in the middle of the night and met in secret with your father.”

  “To sue me for sabotaging my own wedding?”

  “No. To arrange one. Yours and his.”

  Jane’s heart skipped several beats. She could not picture her father involved in this midnight intrigue. What was that devil lover of hers doing? “I believe I have misunderstood you. Grayson intends to—”

  “Marry you.”

  “Not that I should become his mistress?”

  “Oh, good heavens, no. That was part of his plan to teach you a lesson.” Chloe popped a chocolate into her mouth while Jane stared at her in wordless shock. “Are you sure you don’t want one of these?”

  “The scoundrel,” Jane said, exhaling slowly, a smile of delight spreading across her face. So, he had been toying with her, had he? Planning a naughty game to punish her for deceiving him. Perhaps she deserved it. But he hadn’t won yet. Jane’s fighting spirit rose to the challenge. Her next move must be thought out carefully. She had played right into his hand last night by demanding he marry her. How he must have enjoyed watching her panic.

  “I should have known the unprincipled rogue was up to something,” she muttered.

  “Don’t you just hate him?” Chloe asked in sympathy.

  Jane’s smile tightened. “Of course I don’t hate him. I love the blackguard, or I would not have allowed myself to be placed in this unspeakable position.”

  “I wish I could be placed in an unspeakable position with a man I loved,” Chloe said, her eyes glinting with wistful mischief. “Every time I come even close, one of my odious brothers makes an appearance to ruin everything. Ever since my father’s death, Grayson and Heath have protected me to the point that I may as well live in a cage. I think I’m a lot like you, Jane.”

  Jane was quiet, reflecting on Grayson’s comment about how Chloe had taken to wild behavior since their father’s death. What kind of man would make a good husband for Chloe? A suitor very strong yet kind. Marrying into the Boscastle brood was not for the faint of heart. Still, unless someone intervened, it appeared that brother and sister would soon come to a clash of wills.

  And Jane herself was about to come to blows with Grayson, who thought himself so clever planning their betrothal in secret. Only a devilish mind would go to such lengths to ensnare her so completely. She might have been furious at him for having fun with her if she hadn’t started this whole thing.

  “What am I going to do, Chloe?”

  “I say you should teach him a lesson right back.”

  “Do you?” Oh, Jane liked that idea. To keep the devil she loved on his toes.

  “Perhaps we could ask Mrs. Watson for advice,” Chloe suggested, brightening at the thought of stirring trouble in her brother’s life. “The woman is an expert on the English male.”

  “Mrs. Watson—the courtesan par excellence in London?”

  “The courtesan par excellence in Brighton—she arrived yesterday afternoon. The coaches run every half hour from London.”

  “Would you mind taking me to see Mrs. Watson today? I could use the advice of an experienced female.”

  “Why should I mind? It’s not as if I have anything else to do with my day except languish under Grayson’s guard.”

  “Do you think she would mind helping me?”

  “Mind?” Chloe said. “I think she’d be honored. Audrey has always had a soft spot for my brother. And she thrives on this sort of fun.”

  Jane rose decisively. “I’ll fetch my shoes and gloves while you finish dressing. And please do not let your brothers know where we are going.”

  “I shall tell them we are going to the library,” Chloe said, bubbling over with glee. “To further our education.”

  Mrs. Watson had been on her way back from taking the sea air on the promenade with an escort of gentlemen when the two young women arrived. Their carriage slowed at her charming little house with its bow windows and wrought-iron fence. Audrey was stylishly attired in a high-waisted yellow poplin dress and straw hat with ostrich feathers, looking more like a respectable matron than a notorious courtesan.

  She clapped her gloved hands in delight when she recognized her visitors. “Oh, darlings, how good of you to call. And just in time for cake and brandy.” She hugged Chloe warmly, whispering, “You silly girl. Falling in love with a soldier with all those foreign princes about to visit for our victory. I thought you had more sense. And you, Lady Jane, well, you and Sedgecroft are certainly giving my small scandals some competition. Come inside and enlighten me. I am starved for gossip.”

  Audrey ordered refreshments before leading them to a drawing room furnished with a blue-and-cream-white theme that carried over into the damask draperies and Persian carpet. She presided like an empress from her ivory-inlaid chaise while Chloe explained what had brought them to her.

  “I am so flattered,” Audrey said, one hand to her heart, her third glass of brandy in the other. “I am also a little drunk, but so much the better for scheming.”

  Chloe stretched out comfortably on the sofa, explaining Jane’s secret and the unexpected results. “My horrible brother is allowing Jane to think that he desires her as his mistress when behind her back he has contracted with her father to marry her.”

  “Then a mistress she shall be,” Audrey said, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Speak up, Jane, do you want to have some fun? I say it is your calling to stand up to this wicked boy.”

  “I’m not quite sure I have th
e courage.”

  Audrey looked at her. “Any woman who can jilt herself has courage in spades, believe me. The question is: Are you prepared to best Sedgecroft at his game?”

  “How?” Jane asked, suddenly wondering if such a task were possible.

  “By becoming a courtesan to end all courtesans!” Audrey cried, her cheeks flushed becomingly. “We will teach you to seduce Sedgecroft right down to his socks.”

  “Well, I’m not sure—”

  “We’ll do it,” Chloe said, setting her glass down on the table. “But we’ll have to start this very afternoon because Heath is watching me like a hawk, and he’ll think I’m meeting a lover here. Not that I shall ever have a lover at this rate.”

  “Chloe, my dear,” Audrey said, gently reprimanding, “that I teach Sedgecroft’s future wife to be a seductress is an act for which he will only come to thank me. Profusely. Instructing his unmarried sister in the sexual arts is another matter entirely. Come back when you are affianced.”

  “The sexual arts?” Jane said with a nervous laugh. “It’s, um, rather straightforward, isn’t it? I mean, what does a woman really need to know?”

  Audrey rose and went to her escritoire, her voice as crisp as a schoolmistress. “There is so much more to the ‘ins and outs’ of lovemaking, as it were, than the typical English wife ever realizes.” She untied the blue silk ribbon from a bulging portfolio and brandished a detailed sketch. “Regard this illustration.”

  Jane gasped, sputtering for breath. Was this what she had in mind? “Oh, my.”

  “You do know what it is?” Audrey asked matter-of-factly.

  Chloe finished her brandy in a gulp. “It’s not one of those new Congreve rockets, is it? Drake showed me a sketch of one in the newspaper, but I have to admit, I wasn’t really paying much attention.”

  “Chloe,” Audrey said in a firm voice, “you may leave the room and entertain yourself in my library. Although for want of a more delicate term, we shall indeed refer to this drawing as a rocket, the proper handling of which a well-informed wife must understand lest it fire before its time.”