I have no idea why you felt it necessary to force me from my
bed at the crack of dawn—'
'It was eleven o'clock, Gray,' Sebastian pointed out as he
expertly handled the matching greys stepping out lively in
front of his curricle.
'As far as I am concerned, any hour before midday is the
crack of dawn,' Lord Gideon Grayson—Gray to his closest
friends—assured him dourly as he huddled down on the seat
beside him, the high collar of his fashionably cut jacket
snug about his ears despite the warmth of this August summer
day. 'I barely had time to wake, let alone enjoy my breakfast.'
'Kippers, eggs and toast, accompanied by two pots of strong
coffee,' Sebastian said cheerfully. All eaten, as I recall,
while you perused today's newspaper.'
'My valet was rushed through my ablutions, and…'
Sebastian stopped listening to Gray's complaints at this
point. He was too full of anticipation at the prospect of
the challenge of seducing Juliet Boyd to allow anything—or
anyone—to shake him out of his good temper.
'… and now my closest friend in the world is so bored by my
company that after dragging me forcibly from my own bed and
home he cannot even be bothered listening to me!' Gray
scowled up at him censoriously.
Sebastian gave an unrepentant grin as he glanced down at the
other man. 'When you have something interesting to say,
Gray, I assure you I will listen.'
'Could you at least try to be a little less cheerful?' his
friend muttered sourly. 'I do believe I am feeling a little
delicate this morning.'
'A self-inflicted delicacy!' The two men had done the rounds
of the drinking and gambling clubs yesterday
evening—Sebastian had won, Gray had not—after which his
friend had left to spend several hours in the bed of his
current mistress, before returning to his home in the
not-so-early hours.
'You are in disgustingly good humour this morning, Seb.'
Gray gave another wince. 'Have you taken a new mistress to
replace Lady Hawtry?'
'Not yet.' Sebastian grinned wolfishly. 'But I intend doing
so in the next two weeks.'
'Oh, I say!' Gray's interest quickened. 'I hope you are not
intending to try your luck with Dolly Bancroft during your
stay at Banford Park? I warn you, next to your brother
Lucian and yourself, Bancroft is the best swordsman in England!'
'You may rest easy concerning both my interest in Dolly's
bedchamber and Bancroft's prowess with the sword,' Sebastian
assured him dryly. 'Dolly and I are no more than friends and
never will be.' Especially now that he knew Dolly had been
bedded by both his brothers!
Gray arched a dark brow. 'But you admit there is a
lady involved in our uncharacteristic behaviour in attending
a summer house party?'
'Of course,' Sebastian drawled, but he had no intention of
sharing his particular interest in bedding the newly widowed
Countess of Crestwood.
'Tell me I do not see the parson's mousetrap snapping at
your booted heels…' Gray mocked.
Sebastian gave a humourless laugh. 'You most assuredly do
not.' He was even more determined to avoid that state after
seeing both his brothers succumb over the last year.
'I must say neither of your brothers seems to mind it so
much.' Gray's thoughts travelled the same path. 'I am not
sure that I should mind, either, if I had one of their wives
for my own!'
'In that case, feel free to find your own wife, Gray,'
Sebastian jeered. 'But for goodness' sake, do not attempt to
find one for me.' His interest in any woman, Juliet Boyd
included, did not include marriage!
'Yes, Sebastian, she has arrived.' Dolly answered his silent
question once the greetings were over and Gray had departed
to the library to share a glass of reviving brandy with his
host. 'She has asked for tea in her bedchamber, however, and
has every intention of staying there until it is time to
come down for dinner. But I have given you adjoining
bedchambers. The balconies of your rooms are connected
also,' she confided warmly.
Sebastian smiled his satisfaction with the arrangement. 'I
trust I will be seated next to her at dinner too?'
'Sebastian, I amnot sure your interest in the Countess is
altogether wise…' Dolly suddenly looked troubled.
'If it were "wise", Dolly, I doubt I should wish to pursue
it!' he teased. 'Now, if I have your permission, I believe I
would like to retire to my own bedchamber and rest a little
before dinner.'
'Rest?' His hostess's brow arched speculatively.
'I assure you I have no intention of intruding upon the
privacy of the lady before we have even been formally
introduced,' he pointed out.
'That will come later, one assumes?' Dolly teased.
'Hopefully, yes,' Sebastian murmured.
There had been many rumours circulating about the Countess
of Crestwood since her husband's sudden death—most of them
unpleasant, to say the least. But none of them had even
hinted at her ever being involved in a liaison with another
man, either before or during her marriage. Or, indeed, since
her marriage had ended….
So Sebastian spent the hours before dinner resting in his
bedchamber, all the time aware that the beautiful but
elusive Juliet Boyd was in the room adjoining his. All was
silent behind the closed lace curtains at the windows,
however, and the French doors into her bedchamber from the
balcony remained firmly shut against the warmth of the day.
But she had accepted the invitation, as Dolly had
said she would. And Juliet could not remain in her
bedchamber for the whole of her stay here….
***
Juliet had never felt so nervous as she stood hesitantly in
the cavernous hallway of Banford Park, delaying her entrance
into the drawing room, where the other guests of the
Countess and Earl of Banford could be heard chattering and
laughing together as they gathered before dinner.
Dolly Bancroft had been very welcoming upon Juliet's arrival
that afternoon. William Bancroft had been equally charming.
No, it was not her host and hostess's lack of welcome that
Juliet feared, but the reactions of their other guests, once
they realised that Juliet Boyd, Countess of Crest-wood, was
amongst their number. For Dolly's sake, Juliet sincerely
hoped that none of those guests decided to depart once they
realised they were to share their stay here with the 'Black
Widow', as Juliet was all too aware she had been cruelly
labelled after her husband's death.
She should not have agreed to come here, Juliet told
herself, for what had to be the hundredth time since
accepting the invitation. Much as she might have wanted to
give Helena a little treat after their long period of
enforced mourning, Juliet knew she should not have allowed
herself to be persuaded into believing that these two weeks
at Banford Park was the means by which to do it.
Perhaps she would have felt differently if she had been able
to have the fiercely protective Helena at her side. Instead
Helena had done as she had said she would, and accompanied
Juliet as her maid—a role her cousin seemed to be enjoying
immensely. She had cheerfully left Juliet's bedchamber a few
minutes ago, after first dressing her hair and helping her
into her gown, to go upstairs and gossip with the other maids.
'Will you allow me the honour of escorting you into the
drawing room, Lady Boyd?'
Juliet turned sharply, relaxing slightly when she saw that
it was her host who stood solicitously beside her,
proffering his arm. A tall and handsome man in his fifties,
who now looked down at her with shrewd hazel eyes, the Earl
reminded Juliet very much of her father.
'I was just admiring this portrait.' Juliet glanced up at
the painting upon the wall which she had, in truth, only
just noticed.
'My great-grandfather—the seventh Earl of Banford.' The Earl
nodded. 'A singularly ugly man, was he not?' he drawled
disparagingly.
Juliet could not help the chuckle that escaped her lips; the
seventh Earl had indeed been a very unattractive man!
'Shall we…?' His great-grandson, the tenth earl, offered her
his arm a second time.
'Thank you,' Juliet accepted shyly, and placed her gloved
hand on top of that arm.
She had chosen to wear a fashionably high-waisted gown of
dark grey silk this evening, with only the barest hint of
Brussels lace at her bosom and around the edges of the short
puffed sleeves. A row of pearls was entwined amongst her
dark curls, her only other jewellery matching ear-bobs and
the plain gold wedding band on her left hand.
Juliet would have liked to remove even this symbol of
Edward's ownership of her, but knew that would only add to
the speculation that had followed so quickly after Edward's
death and still remained rife.
Although she very much doubted that the wearing of her
wedding band or the demure style of the grey silk gown would
make the slightest difference to the gossip that was sure to
ensue the moment her presence here was known!
'My wife always maintains that it is best to do exactly that
which pleases oneself. On the premise, I believe, that it is
impossible to please all people all the time,' the Earl
confided.
Juliet turned to give him a startled glance. 'It has been my
experience that it is impossible to please any of the ton
any of the time!' Juliet murmured, some of the tension
easing from her slender shoulders. 'Did your wife also
suggest that it might be beneficial if you were to wait out
here in the hallway this evening in order that you might
gallantly offer to escort me into the drawing room?'
The Earl gave a inclination of his head. 'I do believe she
may have mentioned some such thing, yes.'
Juliet gave a husky laugh. 'You are too kind, My Lord.'
'On the contrary, my dear, I consider myself deeply
honoured,' he replied. 'Now, let us go into the drawing room
and set the tongues a wagging, hmm?' He encouraged her
almost as gleefully as his wife might have done.
It seemed to Juliet as if all eyes suddenly turned in the
direction of the doorway as she entered the room on the arm
of the Earl of Banford, the conversation faltering. Then
Dolly swiftly filled that silence by engaging in
conversation with the handsome and fashionably attired young
man standing beside her.
A young man who stared boldly at Juliet, with unfathomable
whisky-coloured eyes….
***
Sebastian was barely aware of Dolly's conversation as, along
with all others present, he stared across the room as the
Countess of Crestwood entered on the arm of their host.
She was incredibly beautiful—even more so than when
Sebastian had last seen her, at some ball or other a couple
of years ago, and his interest in her had first been piqued.
He became aware of the finer details about her. Such as the
rich darkness of her hair and the entwined string of pearls.
The smoothness of her brow. The thick lashes that edged eyes
of the deepest green. Her small, perfect nose. The pouting
bow of her sensuously full lips. The proud and slightly
challenging uplift of her little pointed chin.
Her breasts were as full as ever, and they spilled creamily
against pale grey lace, but her waist and hips appeared more
willowy than when he had last seen her across that crowded
ballroom, and the skin at the swell of her breasts, throat
and arms was as translucently pale as the pearls in her hair.
'I advise that you close your mouth, Sebastian—before the
drool threatens to spoil the perfection of your cravat!'
Dolly whispered beside him in soft mockery, bringing a dark
scowl to Sebastian's face as he realised Dolly had a point.
He had been staring intently at Lady Boyd for several minutes.
Had anyone else but Dolly noticed his marked interest? he
wondered, disgusted with himself. A quick glance at his
fellow guests assured him that their interest was as engaged
on the lady as his own had been.
'It is time for us to go into dinner,' Dolly informed him as
she received a nod from her butler, where he stood
discreetly in the doorway. 'Bancroft will be escorting his
mother, the Dowager Countess, of course. Might I suggest, as
the two of you are sitting together, that you offer your own
arm to the Countess of Crestwood?'
Having been staring so intently at Juliet Boyd, Sebastian
now found himself momentarily disconcerted by Dolly's
suggestion. But only momentarily. Was he not the rich and
eligible Lord Sebastian St Claire, brother of a Duke?
Moreover, at the age of seven and twenty, had he not been
considered by all the female members of the ton—debutantes
and matrons alike—as the foremost catch of the Season, since
both of his brothers had proved themselves unavailable by
taking a wife?
More importantly, meeting Juliet was the only reason he had
come here—so what was he waiting for…?
Despite the Earl of Banford's presence at her side, Juliet's
appearance in the drawing room had been as dramatic as she
had feared it might.
Following that initial stunned silence a muted conversation
had been resumed by the female guests, at least, as they
gossiped in whispers behind their spread fans. The male
guests had been less quick to hide their surprise at her
appearance here, and for the main part had just continued to
openly stare at her.
One man in particular…
An arrogantly handsome man, dressed in the height of fashion
in tailored black evening clothes, a grey waistcoat and
snowy white linen. The same man with whom Dolly Bancroft had
endeavoured to make conversation when Juliet first entered
the drawing room.
The very same man who had made absolutely no effort to
disguise his inattentiveness to that conversation as he'd
continued to stare at Juliet with narrowed, enigmatic eyes.
Rather beautiful long-lashed eyes, the colour of the mellow
whisky her father had once favoured, Juliet couldn't help
noticing admiringly.
She had expected the frosty disdain of the ton this evening.
Had been prepared for that reaction. To find herself being
regarded so familiarly by a man she did not even know, and
who was obviously nothing more than a fashionable rake, did
not sit well with her. It did not sit well at all!
Juliet's already ruffled calm deserted her totally as she
saw Dolly take a firm hold of the man's arm and push him
slightly in her direction. Was her intention to have him
cross the room and offer to escort Juliet into dinner? An
intention, for all the previous familiarity of the man's
gaze, that he surely could not welcome!
Juliet snapped her fan open in front of her before she
turned her back on the pair to engage the Earl in
conversation. 'It seems that we have succeeded in creating
something of a stir amongst your other guests despite your
efforts, My Lord,' she bit out tartly. The humiliation of
having a man forced to escort her into dinner burned beneath
the surface of her emotions.
No matter how kindly meant Dolly Bancroft's invitation had
been, Juliet knew she should not have allowed herself to be
persuaded into coming here!