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

‘Not you, too!’ Sebastian strode forcefully, impatiently, into the middle of the book-lined room. ‘You—’ he looked pointedly at the Earl of Banford ‘—gave every indication that you’d befriended the Countess yesterday evening. And you—’ his eyes glittered dangerously as he turned his attention on Gray ‘—flirt with the lady every time the two of you meet. Am I now to believe that you both think her capable of killing her own husband?’

‘That is the whole point of this conversation, Sebastian.’ Once again it was Gray who answered softly. ‘The simple answer is we do not know what the lady is capable of.’

‘Boyd has been dead these past eighteen months,’ Sebastian said coldly. ‘If by some chance Juliet did do away with him—’ his gaze narrowed ‘—then I am sure she was justified.’ That look of wariness, almost of apprehension, he had on several occasions seen in Juliet’s eyes, certainly seemed to indicate that someone—and who else could it be but Crestwood?—had given her good reason to fear.

‘Ah.’

‘Hmm.’

Sebastian easily noted the glance that passed between the other two men in accompaniment to their unhelpful replies.

He could not ignore the uneasy feeling that was starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. The Earl claimed Dolly had invited Juliet here at his behest. And Gray, Sebastian now recalled, had made only a nominal complaint at being dragged along to a summer house party he would normally have refused to attend. Gray had also been the one chosen to sit next to Juliet at dinner yesterday evening in Sebastian’s stead. Now he discovered that Gray and the Earl of Banford were far better acquainted than he had previously thought ….

‘Very well.’ He seated himself in one of the winged armchairs beside the unlit fireplace before looking at the other the two men with grim determination. ‘One or both of you had better tell me exactly what is going on, or you will leave me with no choice but to go to the Countess of Crestwood and inform her of this conversation.’

‘You know, Grayson, I do believe you and Dolly may have been correct in your opinion of St Claire’s intellect,’ the Earl commented with approval.

‘Seb’s a capital chap,’ the younger man answered blithely.

‘Seb is fast becoming a blazingly angry one!’ he warned them harshly.

‘Very well.’ The Earl looked him straight in the eye. ‘I am happy to talk frankly, but before doing so I will require your word as a gentleman that once this conversation is over you will not discuss its details with a third party.’

Sebastian knew without the other man saying so that in this case the ‘third party’ he referred to was the Countess of Crestwood ….

Up till now Sebastian had always found Dolly’s husband to be an affable and charming man. A man it was difficult not to like, but with no more to him than that.

These last few minutes of conversation showed there was much more to the Earl of Banford, and to his own friend Gray, than Sebastian had previously realised … and he didn’t like knowing that at all.

‘… and so you see you have totally misjudged poor St Claire, I am afraid, dear Juliet,’ Dolly admonished gently as the two women sat together in her private parlour.

Juliet had been reluctant to accept Dolly’s invitation to join her here when the other woman had come upon her still standing in the hallway after Sebastian had so abruptly taken his leave. After all, Dolly had been just as guilty of discussing her as Sebastian had! To now hear that he had actually been dismissing the idea of Juliet being guilty of any involvement in Edward’s death, rather than accusing her, made her feel more than a little foolish.

For now it appeared she owed Sebastian not one apology but two!

‘After all the gossip and speculation this last year and a half, it is a subject about which I am naturally a little sensitive,’ Juliet acknowledged stiffly.

‘But of course, my dear.’ Dolly gave her hand an understanding pat. ‘I can be a sympathetic ear if you ever feel the need to talk privately ….’

How Juliet longed to tell someone about her years as Edward’s wife. Longed to tell of those nights when he had come to her bed and taken her with cold indifference to the pain he was inflicting. Of his cruelty in the early months of their marriage, when she’d still thought it worth pleading for his gentleness and understanding. Pleas she had ceased to make after that single occasion when Edward had shown her just how much more pain and humiliation he could inflict when thwarted.

Oh, yes, Juliet longed to tell someone of those things, but knew that she never would ….

‘I thank you for the offer, Dolly.’ She smiled, to take any offence from her refusal. ‘But for the moment I would much rather discuss how I am to go about apologising to Lord St Claire for this latest misunderstanding.’

If Dolly was disappointed in Juliet’s determination not to talk about the past, then she gave no indication of it as she instead laughed huskily. ‘Oh, my dear, you must not be so eager to concede that you were in the wrong. Men are fond of believing themselves in the right of it, you know, and to eat a little humble pie on occasion does them no harm whatsoever.’

Despite her earlier tension, Juliet found herself laughing at Dolly’s nonsense. ‘But in this case Lord St Claire was in the right of it …’

‘I did not say you have to punish him for ever, my dear.’ Dolly gave her a conspiratorial smile. ‘Just long enough for him to feel the cold chill of your displeasure. The ball I am giving tomorrow evening should be time enough to allow yourself to forgive him.’

Juliet raised dark brows. ‘So I am to forgive him, then?’

‘Of course.’ Dolly gave a gracious inclination of her head. ‘I have found with Bancroft that it is by far the best way. By the time I have finished forgiving him he is usually so befuddled he has quite forgotten that he was not actually to blame for our fall-out, and is just grateful that we are … friends again!’

Juliet felt colour warm her cheeks as she realised what sort of friendship the other woman was alluding to. ‘You quite misunderstand my relationship with Lord St Claire—’

‘It is still early days yet, Juliet,’ Dolly pointed out.

She shook her head. ‘I assure you I have no intention of ever becoming that sort of friend with Sebastian St Claire.’

Or any other man ….

Sebastian’s expression remained outwardly calm as the Earl talked. Which was not to say that he was not disturbed by the older man’s conversation—only he had no intention of revealing his own thoughts at Bancroft’s talk of agents of the Crown and treachery.

Bancroft, it appeared, had for some years been involved in such a network of agents, of which Gray—a man Sebastian had known since childhood—appeared to be a member! Dolly, too, if Sebastian understood the Earl correctly; all those years Dolly had been the mistress of one member of the aristocracy or another she had been reporting information back to Bancroft!

‘So it appears Crestwood was either responsible himself for passing along privileged information, or it was someone else close to him in whom he confided,’ Bancroft finished gravely.

Sebastian realised he had been guilty of allowing his thoughts to wander. But, hell, what man would not when confronted with such a fantastic tale? ‘Let me see if I understand this clearly. You are saying that Crestwood, or someone close to him, for years passed along privileged information to the French? That such information was used to forestall several English efforts to defeat Bonaparte, and also to aid the Corsican’s escape from Elba two years ago?’

‘I am saying exactly that,’ the Earl confirmed.

Sebastian’s brother Lucian had resigned his commission in the army when Bonaparte had finally surrendered, but he had returned to duty the following year, along with his fellow officers, in order to participate in the battle at Waterloo, following Napoleon’s escape from Elba. Lucian had returned from that last battle a hard and embittered man, and most of his friends had not returned at all ….

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. ‘You also believe that this “someone close” to the earl was his wife? That if the heroic Crestwood did not do it, then it must therefore have been Juliet who was the traitor?’

Gray frowned. ‘Crestwood was a hero and a gentleman, Seb. But he was not a man who had close friends as you and I do. In effect, there was no other person close to him except his countess. Now Crestwood is conveniently dead, and so unable to deny or admit these allegations.’

Sebastian stood up restlessly. ‘You are claiming that Lady Boyd deliberately pushed Crestwood down the stairs to his death in order to cover up her duplicity?’

His friend nodded. ‘It is reasonable to suppose that Crestwood finally discovered his wife’s treachery, and that when he confronted her with it, she pushed him down the stairs to stop him from making her conduct public.’

‘Is it not a simpler explanation that the man was foxed?’

‘The man did not drink strong liquor of any kind.’

‘Then perhaps he fell.’

‘He stood the deck of his own ship for over twenty years—are you seriously expecting us, or anyone else, to believe that he lost his balance at the top of his own staircase?’ Gray calmed with effort. ‘Besides, several of the servants heard the sounds of an argument only minutes before the Earl’s fall.’

Sebastian gave a disdainful snort. ‘Servants have been known to say anything if they believe it might earn them a guinea or two!’

‘No such bribery was offered,’ the Earl assured him.

Still Sebastian could not countenance the idea that Juliet was guilty of deliberately murdering her husband, let alone of treason. Although the sacrifice Lucian and his friends had made during the war said he had to hear Bancroft out … ‘The man was such a prig that he had no real friends, and such a paragon that he did not drink alcohol. Therefore it must be his wife who is the one guilty of treason? Of pushing Crestwood to his death so that he could not reveal her perfidy?’ Sebastian shook his head. ‘That seems to be rather a leap to have made on so little evidence, gentlemen.’

‘There is more, St Claire.’ The Earl’s tone immediately drew Sebastian’s attention. ‘Lady Boyd’s aunt, the sister of her mother, lived in France with her French husband—Pierre Jourdan. As a child, Juliet Chatterton spent many summers in France, with this aunt and uncle and her young female cousin.’