green. Her small, perfect nose. The pouting bow of her sensuously full lips. The proud and slightly challenging uplift of her little pointed chin.
Her breasts were as full as ever, and they spilled creamily against pale grey lace, but her waist and hips appeared more willowy than when he had last seen her across that crowded ballroom, and the skin at the swell of her breasts, throat and arms was as translucently pale as the pearls in her hair.
‘I advise that you close your mouth, Sebastian—before the drool threatens to spoil the perfection of your cravat!’ Dolly whispered beside him in soft mockery, bringing a dark scowl to Sebastian’s face as he realised Dolly had a point. He had been staring intently at Lady Boyd for several minutes.
Had anyone else but Dolly noticed his marked interest? he wondered, disgusted with himself. A quick glance at his fellow guests assured him that their interest was as engaged on the lady as his own had been.
‘It is time for us to go into dinner,’ Dolly informed him as she received a nod from her butler, where he stood discreetly in the doorway. ‘Bancroft will be escorting his mother, the Dowager Countess, of course. Might I suggest, as the two of you are sitting together, that you offer your own arm to the Countess of Crestwood?’
Having been staring so intently at Juliet Boyd, Sebastian now found himself momentarily disconcerted by Dolly’s suggestion. But only momentarily. Was he not the rich and eligible Lord Sebastian St Claire, brother of a Duke? Moreover, at the age of seven and twenty, had he not been considered by all the female members of the ton—debutantes and matrons alike—as the foremost catch of the Season, since both of his brothers had proved themselves unavailable by taking a wife?
More importantly, meeting Juliet was the only reason he had come here—so what was he waiting for…?
Despite the Earl of Banford’s presence at her side, Juliet’s appearance in the drawing room had been as dramatic as she had feared it might.
Following that initial stunned silence a muted conversation had been resumed by the female guests, at least, as they gossiped in whispers behind their spread fans. The male guests had been less quick to hide their surprise at her appearance here, and for the main part had just continued to openly stare at her.
One man in particular…
An arrogantly handsome man, dressed in the height of fashion in tailored black evening clothes, a grey waistcoat and snowy white linen. The same man with whom Dolly Bancroft had endeavoured to make conversation when Juliet first entered the drawing room.
The very same man who had made absolutely no effort to disguise his inattentiveness to that conversation as he’d continued to stare at Juliet with narrowed, enigmatic eyes. Rather beautiful long-lashed eyes, the colour of the mellow whisky her father had once favoured, Juliet couldn’t help noticing admiringly.
She had expected the frosty disdain of the ton this evening. Had been prepared for that reaction. To find herself being regarded so familiarly by a man she did not even know, and who was obviously nothing more than a fashionable rake, did not sit well with her. It did not sit well at all!
Juliet’s already ruffled calm deserted her totally as she saw Dolly take a firm hold of the man’s arm and push him slightly in her direction. Was her intention to have him cross the room and offer to escort Juliet into dinner? An intention, for all the previous familiarity of the man’s gaze, that he surely could not welcome!
Juliet snapped her fan open in front of her before she turned her back on the pair to engage the Earl in conversation. ‘It seems that we have succeeded in creating something of a stir amongst your other guests despite your efforts, My Lord,’ she bit out tartly. The humiliation of having a man forced to escort her into dinner burned beneath the surface of her emotions.
No matter how kindly meant Dolly Bancroft’s invitation had been, Juliet knew she should not have allowed herself to be persuaded into coming here! She should not have exposed herself to—
‘Would you care to introduce me, My Lord?’
Juliet felt a quiver down the length of her spine at the first sound of the man’s smoothly cultured voice. That quiver turned to a shiver as she turned to find that Dolly’s rakishly handsome companion had acceded to her urgings and was now standing in front of Juliet, looking down the length of his arrogant nose at her, the expression in those whisky-coloured eyes hidden behind narrowed lids…
Only Juliet did not need to see the expression in those beautiful eyes to know that this man felt the same contempt towards her as every other person here. Nor did she care to guess what leverage Dolly had exerted to persuade this man into doing her bidding…
Until this moment Juliet had believed Dolly to be totally devoted to the Earl of Banford, but it would have taken more than a simple request from their hostess to persuade this young rake into committing possible social ruination by showing a preference for the notorious Countess of Crestwood. It led Juliet to wonder, with inner distaste, if this young man were possibly the Countess of Banford’s current lover…
‘Lady Boyd, may I present Lord Sebastian St Claire?’ the Earl said, doing as requested and duti-fully making the introductions. ‘Lord St Claire—Lady Juliet Boyd, Countess of Crestwood.’
Sebastian knew by the gleam of interest in the Earl’s eyes as he made the introductions that Dolly must have confided to her husband Sebastian’s intentions towards the Countess. His mouth tightened in displeasure at the breach of confidence even as he gave her an abrupt bow. ‘My Lady.’
‘My Lord.’ The Countess made a graceful curtsey, but made no effort to extend to him her gloved hand.
Sebastian scowled at the omission. ‘Will you grant me the honour of escorting you into dinner, Lady Boyd?’
‘“Honour”, My Lord?’ She raised dark, mocking brows.
He inclined his head. ‘I would consider it so, yes.’
Her laughter was light and derisive. ‘Then you are singular in your preference, My Lord.’
Damn it—this first conversation with Juliet Boyd was not going at all as Sebastian had hoped it might!
In his imaginings she had been as instantly taken with Sebastian as he already was with her. To such an extent that he had envisaged them talking alone together. Walking alone together. Sitting alone together. Most definitely being alone when they made love together…!
A muscle flickered in Sebastian’s tightly clenched jaw as he imagined first removing the pearls from her hair, before releasing the glossy curls so that they tumbled down the length of her slender spine. Next he would remove her gown, turning her so that he might unfasten—slowly—the row of tiny buttons from her nape down to her bottom, lingering, after releasing each button, to kiss the smoothness of the silky skin he had just exposed. When the last button had been unfastened he would then allow the gown to fall about her ankles, leaving her wearing only her chemise and stockings, with the fullness of her breasts pouting temptingly beneath the thin material, her nipples a dark delight that Sebastian would taste and possess until he’d had his fill…
‘It would appear we are the last to go into dinner, Lord St Claire,’ Juliet prompted sharply. He seemed lost in thought. Perhaps contemplating that social ruination, if the pained expression on his face was any indication!
He drew his thoughts back to his surroundings with an obvious effort. ‘I apologise for my preoccupation, Lady Boyd,’ he murmured huskily as he extended his arm to her.
‘Do not give it another thought, Lord St Claire,’ Juliet assured him as she placed her gloved hand lightly upon his sleeve. She was aware of the muscled strength beneath her fingertips. ‘After all, it is not every day that you are asked to act as escort to the notorious Black Widow!’ she added waspishly.
‘I—What did you call yourself?’ he exclaimed.
Her smile was completely lacking in humour. ‘I assure you I am well aware of the unflattering names I have acquired since…since the death of my husband,’