The Rogue's Disgraced Lady. Carole Mortimer

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—