The Seduction of an English Scoundrel by Jillian Hunter Page B

Wenderfield’s breakfast party,” Grayson replied.
    Jane leaned forward to remove a white silk stocking from her brother’s vest pocket. “Dear God, Simon, where did
you
go last night?”
    He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t remember. I don’t even know how I got here.”
    â€œYou attended a midnight masquerade,” Grayson said dryly as he extended his hand to help Jane rise. “Your coachman found you half conscious between a nun and Cleopatra’s handmaiden.”
    â€œWere the three of us—”
    Grayson cleared his throat. The amused glitter in his eye spoke volumes. “I think we can finish this conversation in private, Simon.”
    Jane dropped the stocking to the floor in distaste. “And I think the answer to his question is disgracefully obvious.”
    Â 
    Grayson did not bother to acknowledge the greetings of the young bucks who had gathered on the steps. The avid curiosity in their eyes as they spotted Jane infuriated him. One of them had finally recognized her.
    â€œSedgecroft,” she said, her voice steady but underlaid with trepidation.
    â€œIt’s all right, Jane,” he said in a steely tone. “Smile but do not stop. They will take the hint soon enough.”
    They shouted to him, posturing like overdressed monkeys, fighting for even a crumb of his attention. Damn them, Grayson thought, his gaze completely impassive. Damn their impudence for daring to stare at her as if she had suddenly become a demirep. The muscles from his shoulders to his fingers tightened in the fierce urge to punch every last sly look from their faces.
    â€œI told you,” she said, staring straight ahead.
    He glanced down at her. Despite the quiver in her voice, she looked perfectly composed. He was so accustomed to ignoring public opinion that he probably would not have minded the notoriety had he been with another woman. Mrs. Parks would have cheerfully responded to all the fuss with a crude finger gesture.
    â€œIt might do you a world of good, Jane,” he murmured, “to let your reserve slip just once.”
    â€œI don’t think the world is ready for the sort of slip I am capable of,” she said enigmatically.
    One of the bucks raised his quizzing glass to examine her, then dropped it immediately at the deadly look Grayson shot him.
    For a moment he considered taking action, dragging the impudent pup down the steps to make an example of him. But another scandal would hardly help Jane, and for the first time since Grayson could remember, he forced himself to swallow his anger and consider the consequences of his behavior.
    It would take effort, he thought, to guide her through these narrow straits of Society to safety. He would have to be on his guard to protect her from insults and inappropriate advances. He had understood that when he offered to help her.
    What he hadn’t realized was how easily he could lure her astray himself.
    â€œWhat are you thinking, Jane?” he asked in an undertone.
    â€œI shan’t tell you, Sedgecroft. You would be shocked.”
    â€œNot me, darling.” Ludicrous, after the life he led. As if a proper young lady like Jane had anything on his past. “Nothing
you
would do could shock me.”

Chapter 8

    Their host and hostess escorted them through the gardens, introducing them to the foreign guests of distinction who graced the party. Simon found a glass of champagne and disappeared into the crowd with Lady Damaris Hill, whose whispered comment about a missing stocking explained the mystery of the nun’s identity at the previous night’s midnight masquerade.
    An orchestra played on the grass beside a classical pavilion set at the end of the parkland’s sloping lawns. A platform had been constructed for dancing; several younger people had spilled onto the east lawn. The pastel gowns of the ladies swayed like butterfly wings as they moved in graceful flutters.
    â€œAre you