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,’