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foolish, as she attempted to flirt with Sebastian. She had watched other women do it for years, of course, but it was a different matter entirely to behave in such a fashion herself. There had been little occasion for her to do so during her one and only Season, and Edward would have dealt with her most severely if he had so much as suspected her of flirtation during their marriage.

      But if she and Lord St Claire did not talk to each other, how was he to be persuaded into making his apologies to her?

      He looked so very handsome this evening, too, in a tailored black superfine, snowy white linen beneath a waistcoat of the palest silver, white pantaloons fitted quite shamefully to the long muscled length of his hips and thighs, and polished black Hessians.

      Ordinarily Juliet knew she would not have noticed how perfectly a man’s clothes were tailored to him. That she did so now where Sebastian was concerned was due, she had no doubt, to the candidness of Dolly Bancroft’s conversation that morning.

      Juliet felt warm just looking at him as she recalled that conversation. She was totally aware of the width of his shoulders and muscled chest. The flatness of his stomach. The promised power of his thighs …

      Oh, dear Lord!

      Juliet flicked her fan open and wafted it up and down in front of her face in an effort to cool her burning cheeks.

      His gaze was narrowed as he looked down at her. ‘I believe it is you who were angry with me, ma’am,’ he pointed out rather curtly.

      Juliet tried to remember how, over the years, she had seen other women behave in the presence of such an attractive man as he.

      A glance from beneath lowered lashes, perhaps?

      No, that had only made him scowl all the more!

      A mysterious little smile that hinted at invitation?

      No, that had only made him narrow his gaze on her questioningly!

      Perhaps she should just be herself, after all? Sebastian had seemed to find that attractive enough yesterday evening, when he’d made love to her so illicitly.

      Juliet snapped her fan closed and gave up every pretence of flirtation. ‘We both know I have good reason to be angry with you, Lord St Claire.’

      ‘Then I wonder you have troubled yourself to seek me out,’ he retorted.

      Her smile was brittle. ‘I did not “seek you out”, as you call it, Lord St Claire. I was merely passing this way in order to talk to Lord Grayson, and it would have been rude of me not to have acknowledged you at least. If you will excuse me …? My Lord!’ she exclaimed sharply as Sebastian reached out and grasped her wrist, so that she could not escape without drawing attention to the two of them. ‘You are hurting my wrist, sir!’ Her eyes flashed up at him warningly.

      Sebastian would have liked to do more than hurt Juliet Boyd’s wrist—he wanted to wring her damned neck! First she threw him completely off balance by approaching him. Then she seemed almost to have been flirting with him, before transforming into her usual waspish self. This woman was such a tangle of contradictions she had Sebastian tied up in knots!

      He gave a hard smile. ‘Take my advice, Juliet, and stay well away from Lord Grayson.’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      She looked so outraged. So indignant. So hurt … Yes, this woman was a mass of contradictions that promised to drive Sebastian quietly out of his mind!

      His grip on her wrist gentled and he pulled her slowly towards him, watching as her eyes opened wider and wider as he pulled her ever closer. Until she stood so near to him their bodies almost touched. Until he could see the quick rise and fall of her breasts. The trembling of her slightly parted lips. Feel the softness of her breath against his throat.

      God, he wanted to crush Juliet’s lips beneath his own. Just as he longed to rip the gown from her body before making love to her until she screamed out in pleasure. Until she screamed out her innocence!

      The image of making love to her formed so vividly in his mind that Sebastian felt his thighs hardening. Throbbing. Aching …

      His jaw clenched. ‘You are playing a dangerous game, my lady!’

      Juliet blinked her confusion. ‘Game, My Lord? I have no idea what—’

      ‘I am sorry to interrupt, but it is time to go into dinner.’

      Juliet turned blankly to look at Dolly Bancroft, where she stood beside them, smiling. The Duke of Essex stood to one side, waiting to escort their hostess in to dinner, but otherwise the drawing room had emptied of the other twenty or so guests.

      Leaving Sebastian once again to escort Juliet into dinner ….

      Something she was sure neither of them desired after this latest heated exchange.

      Far from feeling remorse at the wrong he had done her this morning, Sebastian seemed almost angry with her. Coldly, remorselessly so. And Juliet had seen far too much coldness and remorselessness during her marriage to Crestwood to tolerate any more of it.

      ‘How kind of you to wait for me, Your Grace.’ She stepped away from Sebastian to place her hand upon the Duke of Essex’s arm, thereby allowing him to escort her into dinner. The Duke was far too much the gentleman to point out that she had taken Dolly Bancroft’s place.

      Sebastian’s eyes blazed deeply golden as he turned from watching Juliet’s departure on the arm of the Duke of Essex. ‘Do not!’ he grated, as Dolly Bancroft would have spoken as he offered her his arm. He had no intention of discussing her husband’s conversation of this morning with her. Or indeed anything else!

      ‘Did I not initially try to persuade you from your interest in Juliet?’ Dolly nevertheless attempted.

      ‘Before you saw that my interest could be to your husband’s advantage?’ Sebastian scorned. ‘Perhaps one day I may be able to forgive you for this, Dolly—but it is certainly not going to be today!’

      ‘Life cannot always be a game, Sebastian.’ She sounded wistful.

      Sebastian looked down at her bleakly. ‘When all of this is over I think it best if you and I do not meet again for some time.’

      The hurt she felt was reflected in the deep blue of her eyes, but the inclination of her head was as gracious as always. ‘As you wish.’

      What Sebastian wished was that he had never seen Juliet Boyd. Never desired to bed her. Never come to Banford Park in pursuit of her. More than anything else he wished he could just leave here today, now, and forget he had ever been told of the suspicions harboured against her.

      But Sebastian’s sense of fair play, his honour, his loyalty, said that he could do none of those things. That, no matter how Juliet might one day despise him for his actions, he owed it to her to see that she was given every opportunity to prove herself innocent of Bancroft’s accusations.

      Or not …

      ‘Are you feeling unwell, Juliet …?’ Helena hovered behind her as she sat in front of the mirror. Juliet had dismissed her cousin once she had helped her out of her gown, wishing to be alone when she removed the pins from her hair, but Helena’s glance at her reflection showed Juliet’s face to be exceedingly pale, the green of her eyes the only colour, and there was a frown of tension upon her brow.

      Altogether it had not been a successful evening. Yet another unpleasant exchange with Sebastian St Claire had occurred. Followed by a lengthy dinner when Juliet had found herself seated between two gentlemen who wished only to converse on fox hunting and their hounds. She had then been persuaded into partnering Lord Grayson in a game of whist, all the time aware of Sebastian as he sat at the next table, partner to the beautiful Lady Butler. Juliet’s distraction at the other woman’s obviously flirtatious manner had been such that she and Grayson had lost miserably. Juliet had been relieved when she could at last excuse herself and retire to her bedchamber.

      The greatest disappointment,

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