Tall, Dark & Irresistible: The Rogue's Disgraced Lady. Carole Mortimer

Lady Bancroft into believing him to be more agreeable than he is?’ she suggested tactfully.

      ‘Do not look so concerned, my dear Lady Boyd.’ William Bancroft said softly. ‘I assure you that any friendship between my wife and St Claire has always been of a purely platonic nature.’ He looked serious. ‘I think that perhaps you should be made aware that, although he has certainly earned his reputation with the ladies, St Claire does not choose to “persuade” as often as the gossips care to imply that he does ….’

      Juliet felt the colour warm her cheeks. ‘I must warn you, My Lord, that I really cannot even think of joining you for refreshment if you intend to continue discussing Lord St Claire with me.’

      ‘As you wish, my dear.’ The Earl stepped forward to place a hand lightly beneath her elbow. ‘Tea for two, Groves,’ he instructed the butler lightly, before guiding Juliet down the hallway to his study.

      Much to Sebastian’s chagrin, for once in his life he was completely at a loss to know what to do next where a woman was concerned.

      He had allowed his desire for Juliet, when holding her aloft in his arms this morning, to overrule his awareness of that guardedness he sensed inside her, and had subsequently paid the price for that miscalculation when she’d walked off and left him. There had been no opportunity to see or speak to her since then.

      Consequently, he sat broodingly at the dinner table that evening, watching Juliet down its length as she conversed easily and charmingly with Gray, sitting on one side of her, and the elderly and courtly Duke of Sussex on the other.

      Sebastian’s censorious glance towards his hostess for this arrangement was met by a pointed glance in her husband’s direction, telling him that the Earl was the one responsible for the distance between Juliet and himself at the dinner table.

      That Juliet had somehow succeeded in charming the Earl of Banford came as no surprise to Sebastian. Nor the fact that Gray and the Duke of Sussex seemed equally as enchanted by her company. What man could look at her—dressed this evening in a deep green silk gown, her hair an abundance of ebony curls, several of those curls temptingly loose against the long length of her creamy throat—and not be charmed?

      Certainly not Sebastian. He found his hooded gaze shifting often in her direction as she chatted softly with her dining companions—whilst his own meal seemed to progress with excruciating slowness, and culminated in his imbibing far too much wine and not eating enough food.

      If this continued he would be foxed before the meal even came to its painful end!

      Even as Juliet responded to the polite dinner conversation of Lord Gideon Grayson, she was aware of St Claire’s dark and brooding gaze fixed upon her whenever she chanced to glance up.

      ‘Do not be too hard on him, Lady Boyd,’ Lord Grayson drawled, after one such irritated glance. ‘I assure you Sebastian is not usually so marked in his attentions,’ he added dryly as Juliet looked at him enquiringly.

      She frowned her annoyance. ‘You are the second gentleman today to leap to his defence, sir!’

      Gideon gave a rueful shrug. ‘Sebastian is a capital fellow.’

      ‘So I am informed,’ she said, obviously unimpressed.

      ‘But you still doubt it?’

      Of course Juliet doubted it; so far in their acquaintance St Claire had tried—and failed—to seduce her at every opportunity that presented itself!

      Lord Grayson raised his brows at her censorious expression. ‘Has it not occurred to you that perhaps you should be thanking Sebastian rather than cutting him so cruelly?’

      Her eyes widened. ‘Thanking him for what, pray?’

      ‘Has your time here not been a little easier today? Your fellow guests a little less … cool in their manner towards you?’ he asked.

      Juliet thought of the picnic lunch she had enjoyed earlier today—a picnic lunch that her tormentor had been noticeably absent from! Surprisingly, several of the ladies had included her in their conversation as their party sat in the shade of one of the oaks beside the river that ran through the extensive grounds of Banford Park.

      ‘I am sure you must be aware that Sebastian is considered something of a setter of fashion,’ Lord Grayson continued lightly. ‘If he has decided it is time to welcome you back into Society, then you may be assured the rest of the ton will quickly follow his example.’

      ‘And I suppose you are telling me that Lord St Claire was demonstrating that “welcome” earlier today, when he did not even have the good manners to introduce us properly?’ Juliet pointed out.

      Lord Grayson looked at her for several seconds before answering. ‘No, I cannot claim Sebastian had your own comfort in mind at that time …’

      ‘Then—’

      Lord Grayson looked rueful. ‘I believe I have already said too much.’ He lifted his wineglass and silently toasted her, before sipping some of the ruby-red liquid and turning to engage the young lady seated on his other side in conversation.

      The Duke of Sussex took advantage of the younger man’s distraction to begin conversing with Juliet on the deplorable state of the country since the war against Napoleon had come to an end. Something the Duke seemed to assume Juliet had some interest in—possibly because of her husband’s involvement with the War Cabinet in the years before his death. Whatever the elderly man’s reasoning, his comments did not require any input from Juliet except for an occasional polite nod or smile. Giving Juliet ample time in which to ponder Lord Grayson’s last remarks to her.

      The fact that he was a close friend of the irritating St Claire indicated to Juliet that his judgement lacked impartiality; as far as Juliet was concerned the arrogant and ridiculously self-assured Lord St Claire was the very last man in need of her gratitude or understanding—or indeed anyone else’s!

      Certainly Juliet felt no such softening of her regard as she watched him approach her after dinner, when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room. Juliet was not sure, but it seemed to her, by the reckless glitter in that whisky-coloured gaze and the slight flush to his cheeks, that His Lordship had imbibed far too much wine and port this evening to allow for even his usual questionable caution.

      Indeed, that concern was borne out by the way he took a firm hold of her arm the moment he reached her side and urged, ‘Walk out onto the terrace with me, Juliet.’

      ‘I believe you would find it more beneficial to your current mood if you were to retire to your bedchamber, My Lord,’ she insisted in low icy tones, but her outward demeanour was one of smiling graciousness as she sensed they were once again the subject of curious eyes.

      He arched dark brows. ‘Was that a proposition, Lady Boyd …?’

      Juliet drew her breath in sharply. ‘You must know it was not!’ She gave him a warning glance from beneath lowered dark lashes.

      ‘One can but live in hope,’ he drawled, with a noticeable lack of concern.

      The serene smile Juliet bestowed upon him was not matched by the angry glitter in her eyes. ‘Release me at once, sir, and cease this licentious behaviour!’ she hissed.

      Sebastian frowned down at her. Juliet truly believed him to be foxed?

      Admittedly Sebastian had been imbibing rather too freely during dinner, but he had put an end to that the moment he’d realised he felt a strong desire to stand up and walk the length of the room before grasping Gray by the throat and squeezing the life out of him—just because he, and not Sebastian, was the one sitting beside Juliet, and the recipient of one of her rare and beautiful smiles.

      Strangling the life out of one of his best friends had not seemed to him to be a rational idea!

      Sebastian felt no qualms, however, at the thought of using the fact that Juliet believed him to be foxed if it gave him the slightest advantage …

      ‘Only