The Rogue's Disgraced Lady

‘So your intention is to run back to the safety of your estate in Shropshire at the first hint of opposition?’ Sebastian needled.

Juliet gasped. ‘You go too far, sir!’

He appeared completely unruffled by her anger. Instead he leant forward to place his hand on her gloved one as it rested on the tabletop, his lips a mere whisper away from the pearl-adorned lobe of her ear as he whispered, ‘My dear Countess, I have not even begun to go too far where you are concerned!’

Juliet felt the colour come into and then as quickly fade from her cheeks as she looked up and saw the flirtatious intent in that whisky-coloured gaze. How dared he talk to her in this familiar way?

‘You are causing a scene, sir,’ she snapped as she deftly extricated her hand from beneath his. ‘I believe it might be better, for both our sakes, if you were to refrain from talking to me for the rest of the evening.’

He gave a wicked smile. ‘Will that not look a little strange, when we have seemed to be getting along so well together?’

‘Seemed is the correct word, sir,’ Juliet assured him frostily. ‘This conversation is now at an end.’ She moved slightly in her seat, so that her shoulder was firmly turned against him, and began to converse with her host about the expectations of the weather for the forthcoming week.

She had never before met a man such as Sebastian St Claire. A man so forthright in his manner. A man who refused to listen to or accept the word no.

Juliet had always accompanied Edward to London in spring for the Season, attending such parties and balls with him as he had deemed necessary, and giving a ball herself towards the end of the Season, to which all suitable members of the ton had been invited. Lord Sebastian St Claire had not been amongst her guests.

St Claire’s eldest brother, the haughty Duke of Stourbridge, had several times been invited to dine privately with them, and Juliet could see a certain resemblance between the two brothers in colouring, and in that inborn air of arrogance. But young rakes such as Sebastian St Claire had not entered into Edward’s lofty circle of acquaintances, nor consequently, Juliet’s own.

Even as she continued to talk to the Earl of Banford, their conversation soon including his mother, the Dowager Countess, Juliet found her attention wandering as she wondered what Edward would have made of the young Lord St Claire.

He would not have approved of him.

No, he was too young. Too irresponsible. Too rakish. Too everything that Edward had disapproved of.

Suddenly that realisation was enough for Juliet to want to make a friend of St Claire, in spite of her own reservations!

The candle was still alight in Juliet Boyd’s bedchamber when Sebastian stepped out onto his balcony to enjoy a last cigar before retiring to his bed, but the lace curtains once again made it impossible for him to see the occupant of the room, and whether or not she was already abed.

It had certainly been an interesting evening, if a frustrating one. That frank, almost intimate conversation with the Countess had been enjoyable, but it had been followed by the irritation of having her completely ignore him for the rest of the meal—as she had stated she intended doing. Even more frustrating, she had disappeared completely by the time the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, after enjoying several glasses of excellent port.

Would she carry out her threat to leave in the morning?

Sebastian had come to realise this evening that in her acceptance of Dolly’s invitation, and by placing herself at the very centre of Society, which had judged and condemned her a year and a half ago, Juliet Boyd was being an exceptionally brave woman—but he had not expected her to be quite such a stubborn one, too!

Yet, if anything, that stubbornness—the way the sting of her anger had brought the colour to her cheeks and given her eyes the appearance of glittering emeralds—had only succeeded in deepening Sebastian’s interest in her…

Dolly would have to talk to her, somehow persuade her into staying…

The faint click of a door catch warned Sebastian that he would soon cease to be alone. He dropped his cigar and ground it beneath his shoe, then moved back into the shadows mere seconds before the doors of the Countess’s bedchamber opened and she stepped out onto her balcony.

Sebastian’s breath caught and held in his throat as she moved forward to stand next to the balustrade and look up at the bright starlit sky.

This venture out onto her balcony before retiring had been one of pure impulse, Sebastian had no doubt. She was prepared for bed: her hair—those glorious dark curls that he had earlier imagined cascading over her creamy shoulders and down her back when it was released—actually reached the whole length of her spine to rest against her shapely bottom. It was stunning—so thick and dark, and bathed with silver by the moon shining overhead. She wore a robe of pale green silk over a matching nightgown, but with the moonlight shining down so brightly even the two items together could not disguise the fullness of her unconfined breasts beneath, nor the gentle curve of her waist and temptingly rounded bottom above long and slender legs.

She was desire incarnate.

A goddess…

‘Who is there?’

Sebastian had no idea what he had done to give himself away. Drawn in an unconscious breath at the sight of her beauty? Or perhaps made a movement forward towards the temptation she offered so innocently?

Whatever it had been, it had alerted Juliet Boyd to his presence, and she turned in the moonlight to look at the exact spot where Sebastian stood so silently, watching her from the shadows of the house behind him.

Knowing further concealment was now ridiculous, Sebastian stepped forward to make her an adroit bow. ‘My Lady.’

Juliet gave a gasp, and raised a startled hand to her throat as she easily recognised the man standing so large and formidable on the balcony. ‘What are you doing here?’ She sounded breathless.

And indeed Juliet was breathless! She had already had cause to remark upon this man’s audacity once this evening, but even so she had never suspected that he would later attempt to enter her bedchamber uninvited!

She stiffened in outrage. ‘How dare you presume to invade my balcony in this way, My Lord?’

He gave every appearance of being completely unruffled by her displeasure as he drawled non-chalantly, ‘You are mistaken, My Lady.’

Juliet drew herself up indignantly. ‘I cannot mistake the evidence of my own eyes, sir!’

He gave a twisted smile. ‘That was not the mistake I was referring to.’

She eyed him frowningly. ‘What, then?’

He shrugged those broad shoulders, instantly drawing Juliet’s attention to the fact that he appeared to have removed his black frock coat and cravat, revealing a silver brocaded waistcoat that was tailored to the flatness of his stomach. His billowing shirt was now unfastened at the throat, revealing a light dusting of dark hair upon his chest.

Juliet quickly averted her gaze from this glimpse of his bared flesh, even as she became aware of her own state of undress. Helena had come to Juliet’s bedchamber earlier, to remove the pins from her hair before helping her into her night attire—the pale green silk and lace gown and robe that were all Juliet was wearing now, as she engaged in conversation with the disreputable Sebastian St Claire!

Sebastian could almost see the panic of thoughts rushing through Juliet’s head as she gathered her robe about her and prepared herself for flight. ‘I merely meant to point out that the door behind me leads into my bedchamber, and therefore I am standing upon my own balcony rather than yours.’

She hesitated. ‘Your own balcony…?’ Her gaze moved to the open doors behind him, before lowering to the space between them, her eyes widening as she obviously saw the low ironwork that separated the two balconies but was concealed amongst the potted plants placed either side of it. Her throat moved convulsively. ‘It appears that I owe you an apology, Lord St Claire.’

‘Do not be over-hasty with that apology,’ Sebastian drawled, before stepping lithely over the ironwork that separated them. ‘There. You see. An apology is no longer necessary.’ He gave an unrepentant grin as he now stood only inches away from her.

Juliet trembled slightly. Despite being married for so long, she had little experience upon which she might draw in order to deal with this man’s outrageous behaviour!

St Claire had stared at her so boldly, so familiarly earlier this evening, when she’d first entered the drawing-room on the Earl’s arm. After their introduction he had chosen to bandy words with her, before proceeding to flirt with her during dinner—until Juliet had made a sharp end to it.

Finding herself alone with him now—on the balcony of her bedchamber, the hour late, the moonlight shining overhead, wearing only her night attire—could be considered scandalous!

No, it was scandalous, Juliet recognised with a sinking feeling—and it was exactly the sort of behaviour the ton were so avidly seeking in order that they might condemn her all over again.

She put out a shaking hand. ‘You must return to your own balcony this instant!’ she ordered.

‘Must I?’

He was suddenly standing much too close to her. So close that Juliet could smell the freshness of his cologne and the faint aroma of cigars that clung to his clothing. Worse, his eyes, those warm, whisky-coloured eyes, were gleaming down at her in the moonlight as he easily captured and held her gaze.

Nevertheless, she must stand firm against all temptations…‘Yes, you most certainly must!’ Juliet averred firmly.

He gave her a considering look. ‘Why?’