‘Does that mean that every English man or woman who has connections with the French, however tenuous, is suspect? My own valet is French. Does that make me guilty of treason, too?’
‘You are not taking this at all as I had hoped, St Claire.’ The Earl looked most unhappy with Sebastian’s response.
Possibly because Sebastian would much rather not think of Juliet in the role Bancroft and Gray had chosen to thrust her into!
She was full of defensive bristles, yes. But what woman would not be when she had come to Banford Park knowing she was entering the lions’ den? That all of Society believed her as guilty of killing her husband as Bancroft and Gray so obviously did? But Sebastian had seen that air of vulnerability and fear that Juliet was normally at such pains to disguise.
Until now Sebastian had assumed that fear to have somehow been caused by Crestwood’s treatment of her during their marriage, but logically it could likewise be apprehension at the thought of discovery …
Two weeks ago he had told Dolly that he did not care one way or the other whether or not Juliet had killed her husband, but his loyalty for Lucian said he should take Bancroft’s suggestion of treason much more seriously.
‘The Countess’s young cousin arrived in England six years ago, after her parents were killed during a raid by French soldiers on their manor home,’ Bancroft continued remorselessly. ‘The girl was held prisoner by the French for a week before managing to escape and flee to England. We can only guess at what she must have suffered at the soldiers’ hands.’
‘Would those events not mean that Juliet Boyd has every reason to hate the French rather than aid them?’ Sebastian pounced on this inconsistency in their argument.
‘Alternatively, she may have been responsible for betraying her relatives to the French because she knew of their sympathies towards the English,’ Bancroft pointed out.
Sebastian felt a coldness slither down the length of his spine at the thought of the beautiful Juliet betraying her family and husband—his brother Lucian and his fellow soldiers, too—in the way Bancroft described. It could not be true. Could it?
‘There is something else, St Claire,’ the Earl added.
‘Go on,’ he rasped.
‘Two weeks ago a missive to a known French agent was intercepted by one of my own agents. It read simply, “Active again. J.”’
Active again. J.
And the missive had been sent two weeks ago.
The exact time Dolly had issued her invitation to Juliet to attend this summer house party ….
‘I have always believed, my dear Juliet, that if a woman decides to take a lover then she should at least ensure he is an accomplished one,’ Dolly Bancroft advised archly.
Juliet’s cheeks burned at the thought of the intimacies she had already allowed Sebastian St Claire. Intimacies Juliet had shared with no other man ….
She shook her head. ‘I assure you I have no intention of taking a lover.’
‘Why would you not?’ The other woman looked scandalised. ‘You have been widowed these last eighteen months, Juliet; do not tell me you do not miss the pleasure of having a virile man in your bed?’
How could Juliet miss something she had never known? Something she had only begun to guess at since Sebastian had touched and caressed her …?
Would this burning in her cheeks ever stop? ‘I am not sure this is a—an altogether fitting conversation, Dolly.’
‘I am sure it is not!’ Her hostess laughed naughtily. ‘But men, I am sure, discuss such things at their clubs all the time, so why should the ladies not do the same when alone together? I can claim with all honesty that Bancroft is a wonderful lover. Was Crestwood the same?’
‘Dolly!’ Juliet gasped weakly.
The other woman’s gaze was shrewdly searching. ‘I see by your reaction that he was not.’ She gave a disgusted shake of her head. ‘How disappointing for you. I am of the opinion that being proficient in the art of lovemaking is as important for a man to learn as running an estate or riding a horse.’
Juliet really was unused to such frank and intimate conversation. ‘Crestwood ran his estate with precision, and he could ride a horse, as well as any man.’
‘Then it was only as a lover that he failed to please?’ Dolly nodded knowingly. ‘One only has to look at St Claire to know how wonderful he would be as a lover. The width of his shoulders. His muscled chest and the flatness of his stomach. As for the pleasure promised by his powerful hips and thighs … My dear, I am sure he is virile enough to keep even the most demanding of women happy in his bed!’
All this talk of pleasure and virile men, and most especially of Sebastian St Claire’s bed, was only increasing Juliet’s discomfort. But in a way that made her breasts swell beneath her gown and their tips harden as she once again felt that strange warmth between her thighs she had known when Sebastian had touched and caressed her so intimately the evening before ….
Sebastian’s mouth thinned. ‘I agree the truth needs to be established. But,’ he added firmly, ‘I refuse to condemn Lady Boyd on what amounts to superficial evidence.’
William Bancroft gave an inclination of his head. ‘I am pleased to hear it.’
Sebastian’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. ‘You are?’
‘But of course.’ The older man resumed his seat behind the leather-topped desk. ‘That is the very reason we are having this conversation.’
‘Explain yourself, if you please.’
‘Seb—’
‘Do not concern yourself, Grayson,’ the Earl interjected. ‘St Claire is quite right to advise caution. To accuse someone of treason is a serious business. And while Lady Boyd—this French agent—remained inactive, indeed there was no need for haste. The fact that she—or he—is now back amongst us, prepared to take up their treasonous role once more, has changed things somewhat. I should, of course, have had this conversation with you some weeks ago, St Claire, when you first spoke to my wife concerning your interest in the Countess of Crestwood. I delayed doing so only because I felt it best to wait and see if the lady returned your interest.’
‘She does not.’
‘Oh, we believe that she does.’ The earl smiled knowingly.
‘Then you believe wrongly.’ Sebastian glared coldly at the older man. ‘Lady Boyd has strongly resisted all my advances.’
‘She is naturally cautious, I admit.’ The older man nodded. ‘But I have known the lady for some years, dined with her and Crestwood on a number of occasions, and as such I have had ample time in which to study her. She is a woman of reticence. Of reserve. So much so that she is polite to all but allows none close to her. You have managed to breach that reserve on several occasions in the last few days, I believe …?’
‘Damn it, I refuse to discuss a lady in this way!’
‘You
