The Rogue's Disgraced Lady. Carole MortimerЧитать онлайн книгу.
her husband’s unexpected death, this woman would obviously be uncomfortable at making her first public appearance in some time.
Just as she was obviously aware of the unkind things that had been said about her following Crestwood’s death—cruel and malicious gossip, for the most part, which, even if it were true, could not have been at all pleasant for the lady to hear…
He fleetingly touched the hand that rested on his arm. ‘I assure you I feel no awkwardness whatsoever at being seen in your company, Lady Boyd.’
Her glance was scathing now. ‘And I am just as sure, as the Duke of Stourbridge’s youngest brother, you would consider it impolite to admit to such an emotion even if you did.’
‘On the contrary, My Lady,’ Sebastian countered. ‘If you know anything of the St Claire family at all, then you must know that we prefer—in fact, go out of our way—not to bow to the dictates of Society.’
Yes, Juliet had heard that the St Claires were something of a law unto themselves. Even the head of that illustrious family, the aristocratic Duke of Stourbridge.
After years of being considered the biggest catch any marriage-minded mama could make for her daughter, the Duke had caused something of a sensation almost a year ago by choosing to woo and marry a young woman the ton had had no previous knowledge of.
Juliet moved to sit in the chair Lord St Claire drew back for her. ‘Be assured, My Lord, in this circumstance you are in the company of one guaranteed to help you succeed in doing exactly that!’
She had been so busy settling herself into her seat that for a moment she had not realised he had taken the chair beside her.
‘Oh, dear,’ she said now, as she looked up and found herself between the Earl of Banford, seated at the head of the table, and Lord St Claire to her right. ‘Have you succeeded in inciting Lady Bancroft’s ire in some way, Lord St Claire?’ she asked.
He raised brows the same unusual teak and gold colour as his hair, laughter gleaming in those whisky-coloured eyes. ‘On the contrary. Lady Bancroft—Dolly—and I have always been the best of friends.’
Juliet continued to look at him for several long seconds. ‘Indeed,’ she finally murmured enigmatically, before turning away to indicate, she hoped, a complete lack of interest in the subject.
Sebastian would have liked to pursue the conversation further, to know the reason for that enigmatic glance, but he was prevented from doing so as his first course was served to him—by which time Lord Bancroft had drawn the Countess into conversation, giving Sebastian no further opportunity to talk, but every chance to study Juliet Boyd from between narrowed lids.
For all that she must know she was still attracting more attention from their fellow guests than was polite, the Countess of Crestwood stoically ignored that interest as she continued to converse and smile graciously with their host between sips of her soup.
Did she have any idea, Sebastian wondered, how enticing her mouth was, with its top lip slightly fuller than the bottom? How seductive the deep green of her eyes? How the translucent paleness of her skin begged to be touched?
Sebastian longed to feel the slender coolness of her hands upon his own heated flesh…
To Juliet’s dismay, her discomfort had only increased once she was seated at the dinner table, and she felt her every move being avidly watched by her fellow guests. No doubt with the intention of gossip and comments later. Nor was she as unaware of the man seated on her right as she would have wished to be!
Lord Sebastian St Claire was without a doubt one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. A few years younger than her, of course. With that dark, unusual-coloured hair and the mellow flirtation of those whisky-coloured eyes. A sensual mouth that could either smile with derisive humour or curl back in contempt. A square and firm jaw that spoke of a determination of character that was only to be expected from the brother of the arrogant Duke of Stourbridge.
More disturbing, perhaps, his black evening clothes had been tailored perfectly to display the width of his shoulders, his tapered waist, the strength of his muscled thighs and his long, long legs.
Juliet had been out for barely one Season before her husband had offered for her, but even so she could appreciate that Lord St Claire was that most dangerous of men—a rake and a libertine. A man, she felt sure, who felt absolutely no qualms in availing himself of a woman’s charms. All women, of any age. Whilst remaining free of any emotional entanglement himself.
After years in a miserable marriage, Juliet could only envy such an emotionally carefree existence as Sebastian St Claire’s.
Envy, but never emulate.
She was aware that many widowed ladies her age took advantage of their freedom from the encumbrance of a husband and marriage to indulge in affairs that gave them either satisfaction in the bedchamber or the heart. After being the wife of Lord Edward Boyd, a cold and merciless man, Juliet had no desire for either!
‘…care to go boating with me on the lake tomorrow, My Lady?’
Her eyes were wide as she turned to St Claire. ‘I beg your pardon?’
He smiled in satisfaction at her obvious surprise. ‘I enquired if you would care to go boating on the lake here with me tomorrow?’
Exactly what Juliet thought he had said!
Chapter Two
‘Or perhaps,’ Sebastian amended smoothly as he
saw the way the Countess’s eyes had widened in
credulously at his suggestion, ‘you would prefer it if
we were simply to stroll in the gardens?’
Those green eyes narrowed now, and the tension in her body was almost palpable. ‘I have no idea what incentive Dolly has offered you in exchange for your being pleasant to me, Lord St Claire,’ she hissed beneath her breath, so that neither their host—or the other guests should overhear, ‘but I assure you most strongly that I do not appreciate such attentions!’
Sebastian was so taken aback by the accusation in her tone that for a moment he could make no reply. She actually believed that he and Dolly were lovers!
His own gaze narrowed to steely slits, his jaw rigid in his displeasure. ‘And I assure you, Lady Boyd, that you are mistaken in your assumption concerning my friendship with Dolly.’
She adamantly refused to back down from his disapproval. ‘Mistaken or not, your—your forced attentions to me are most unwelcome.’
No, this evening was not proceeding at all as Sebastian had hoped it would!
Neither was he accustomed to having his temper roused in this way. The St Claire family always maintained control over their emotions, whether it be boredom, amusement or anger. Not so for Sebastian, it appeared, when it came to Lady Juliet Boyd.
Sebastian suddenly realised what she’d said, and removed the tension from his body and the anger from his gaze. ‘Forced attentions?’ he repeated quietly.
‘Of course they are forced,’ she said scornfully. ‘Do you imagine I did not see the look of distaste on your face earlier when I entered the drawing room?’
Distaste? Sebastian remembered being dazzled by her exceptional beauty. But distaste? Never!
He shook his head. ‘I believe you are mistaken, My Lady.’
‘I do not think so,’ she maintained stubbornly.
‘You are calling me a liar?’ His voice was dangerously soft.
‘I am merely stating what I saw,’ she retorted.
‘What you think you saw,’ he corrected firmly. ‘Am I to infer from these remarks that you would prefer not to stroll in the gardens with me tomorrow?’ he