Perhaps the reason Seth wanted to go to Vauxhall without his sister was to engage in one such assignation. No doubt that had been his goal at Madame Fleur’s. And perhaps he had done so after she left. Vauxhall with its dimly lit paths was one such setting. Even in large groups with chaperones paying diligent attention, ladies managed to steal away to darkened trails with their young swains.

Unable to stop herself, she inquired, “Is this your brother’s first visit to Vauxhall since you’ve arrived to Town?”

“I believe so. He happened upon an old acquaintance yesterday who invited him. I believe Mr.

Manchester has a sister Seth is interested in meeting.”

“A sister?” Jane echoed, tearing off a tiny piece of biscuit and stuffing it into her suddenly dry mouth.

“Yes,” Julianne released a rather wistful sigh. “Since he intends to take a wife this Season, he’s making himself agreeable to Society.” Her lips twitched. “Lucky him.”

With decided care, Jane set her saucer back down on the service and swallowed her bit of biscuit.

She tried to think of an appropriate response to this news, but words failed her. Seth had come to Town to marry. It shouldn’t come as a shock. Marriage was the natural course for any gentleman of means.

At the stretch of silence, Rebecca looked up from her knitting and studied her with a curious lift of her brows.

Feeling compelled to fill the gap in conversation, Jane opened her mouth to speak. “I—” her voice cracked. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “I am sure he will have no difficulty finding many an agreeable lady. His greatest challenge will be in choosing from the vast number of debutantes out this Season.” To say nothing of the ones who had not wed last Season. Or the Season before. Or the many widows about Town looking for a new husband. Her heart sank.

Heavens, her competition would be endless.

 Competition? The thought brought her to a hard stop. She was _not _ in the market for a husband.

Especially when her relations kept her hidden from Society under a shroud of mourning, too happy to use her as their drudge. Besides, she had Matthew to consider. Someone needed to be home for him during school holidays.

“I fear he will be beyond selective,” Julianne groused. “He has unreasonable expectations.”

“Indeed?”

Julianne paused and bit her lip. Releasing it, she confessed, “He expects us to like each other.”

“Oh.” Jane blinked. “Well, that’s considerate of your brother to consider—”

“No, you don’t understand. That is quite nearly his _only _ qualification. He wishes to wed a lady who likes me.”

Jane stared in silence at the young woman, feeling decidedly confused. That a gentleman would only require that his bride _like _ his sister was decidedly odd.

As though reading her mind, Julianne explained, “I know it’s strange, but when Seth returned home it was to find Albert dead and our cousin working to have Seth declared legally dead. We did not even know Seth had been transferred to service in China. I had assumed he was still fighting pirates and slave smugglers on the African coast.”

“Tell the all of it. Tell her what that wretch Harold did,” Rebecca exclaimed from her chair, working her needles with sudden force, as though the scarf taking shape was the wretch under discussion.

Julianne smoothed a hand over her elegantly arranged coiffure. Only the slight tremble of her hand indicated her next words gave her discomfort. “Harold petitioned to have me committed.”

“Committed? In an asylum?” Jane sputtered in outrage.

Julianne nodded, tucking a wispy auburn tendril behind her ear.

“Blindness is not a mental affliction.” Jane’s hands fisted in her skirts at the injustice done Julianne. By a member of her family, no less.

Julianne shrugged one shoulder. “Harold wanted me out of the way. He probably would have succeeded if Seth had not returned.”

“The blackguard!”

“Now you see why my brother is determined to marry someone who likes me.”

Frowning, Jane shook her head. “I fail to see the connection—”

“He needs to feel confident that his wife would look out for me and protect me from Harold if something should befall him.”

Jane nodded slowly, understanding at once. Seth had no desire to marry. He married for the sake of his sister. No doubt his experience with her family had soured him to the notion of marriage.

She would never forget his face that day, earnest and determined as he stormed into their dining room, bellowing Madeline’s name, fists swinging at the footmen who tried to stop him. He had been convinced her sister was restrained somewhere within the house, that some force—aside of her own fickleness—kept her from meeting him as promised.

He had been wrong. Nothing had kept Madeline from him save her own ambitions to wed someone titled, someone richer—someone other than a second son destined for the navy. A portside cottage and naval lieutenant’s trifling wages could hardly entice Madeline to go against their father and elope with Seth.

She did not see the unyielding man from the park succumbing to such sentiment again. His cold gaze and scant civility had chilled her. Softer sentiments were lost on him.

The bronze clock on the mantel suddenly released a bell-like tinkle, alerting the hour. Jane rose.

“I must take my leave.” Anna no doubt needed relieving from watching the girls.

Julianne grasped a silver-headed cane beside her. “I’m so happy you came today. Meeting you in the park was purely providential.”

“Indeed so,” Jane replied with a smile, trying not to feel a stab of disappointment at not meeting up with Seth again today.

Julianne stepped forward, lightly knocking her cane about what was clearly still an unfamiliar room. “Allow me to walk you out.”

Jane grasped her by the elbow. Rebecca tucked her knitting away into a basket and fell in step behind them. They had just cleared the threshold and entered the corridor when a deep voice reverberated over the air.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

The familiar voice slid through her like warm brandy, melting her insides.

“Seth,” Julianne greeted warmly.

Jane tensed, meeting his dark gaze, hoping she appeared more composed than she felt. She had hoped to see him, but to look at him now, standing so rigidly, that cold veil over his eyes, a deep ache filled her chest.

She wanted him to look on her with something in his eyes, anything. Wanted some flicker of emotion to show itself in the hard angles of his face. Emotion that proved a shred of the boy she had known still existed, that the same passion that had sent him crashing into her parents’ dining room, fed by his love for a woman who would never have him, still dwelled beneath his hard veneer.

She ached to think that no remnant of that young man existed. That her family had destroyed him.

But nothing showed on his face.

The boy she had found so easy to love was nowhere in evidence. The years had stolen him. He looked on her with eyes flat and cold as he lightly took her fingertips to bow over her hand.

Foolish, she supposed, to hope she would see anything when he looked at her.

Chapter 10

Seth could not tear his gaze from Jane. She was dressed in another dull gray gown, this one possibly even more depressing than the last. And yet he felt just as overcome by the sight of her as he had been in the park.

He could not say what kept him standing before her when he knew he should excuse himself to his study and avoid her as he had vowed to do on any occasion that his sister might entertain her company, unwilling to permit her to rouse his desires anymore than she already had.

Seth needed a wife. An uncomplicated female that did not inspire his passions. Such he would not find in Lady Jane Guthrie.

“Jane came for tea,” Julianne volunteered.

Bowed over her hand, he schooled his features into a mask of apathy lest she think he felt anything at all when he looked at her. “Yes. I see that.”

Certainly he felt nothing for her. No _tender _ feelings, at any rate. Any softer emotion he had felt during their childhood died long ago, the very day her family tossed him from their home as if he were nothing more than a mangy dog.

“Lord St. Claire,” Jane inclined her head, her manner tight and overly dignified, her voice rigid and clipped as she tugged her hand free of his. The consummate _ton _ matron now. She bore no resemblance to the exuberant girl who had once pounced on his shoulders in his family’s lake with an ear-splitting squeal. He stared intently at her face, searching for a glimpse of that girl—

strangely disappointed when he did not find her. Tempting morsel she may have grown, but no fire lurked beneath.

“Lady Guthrie. How nice to see you again,” he returned politely. “I trust you’ve had a pleasant afternoon?”

The question was innocent enough, but even he heard the edge to his voice, the suspicion, the compulsion to make certain that her time with Julianne had passed smoothly. That Jane had not treated Julianne like some sublevel human as so many Society ladies did.

“I for one have had a splendid time,” Julianne volunteered. “Jane is such a darling. We must never let her slip away again.”

He cocked an eyebrow and dragged his gaze over her in slow perusal, lingering on the generous swell of her br**sts rising and falling enticingly with her even breaths.

He looked away when he began to swell against his breeches. Staring over her head, he sucked in a steadying breath and renewed his vow to avoid her company. To feel nothing at the sight of her.

“Indeed, we must not,” he intoned, the flatness in his voice deliberate as he eyed the length of corridor and contemplated escape.

Jane’s smile wobbled in the face of his seeming apathy.

His sister continued, her voice light and airy, a direct contrast to the thick tension swirling in the air. “I must say, Seth, Jane was quite vexed to hear you are not permitting me to join you at Vauxhall this evening.”

Jane gasped, color flooding her face.

“Oh?” He leveled Jane a look that had sent many a sailor scurrying to the riggings. Impudent chit.

Her chin jerked higher under his glower. Indeed, she had turned into quite the _tonnish _ lady. Nose in the air and quick to judge, quick to concern herself with matters out of her sphere and voice unsolicited opinions.

“I do hope he’s not scowling at you right now, Jane,” Julianne interrupted in aggravatingly cheerful tones. “Don’t let him intimidate you.”

“I fail to see how our social schedule is any concern of Lady Guthrie’s,” he cut in, the softness of his voice deceptive, considering the streak of irritation that burned through him.

Jane glared at him, her hazel eyes bright as a moss-laden pond. If not for the trembling of her mouth, he would think her undaunted.

He stared back, trying not to focus too long on that mouth, on that full bottom lip that quivered enticingly. Her family may have tossed him out like a cur come to beg, but no whipped dog stood before her now. He would have her see that, have her know that nothing affected him, nothing would ever touch him again. He would give nothing, or no one, that power.

“Seth, be nice.” Julianne swatted a hand in his general direction.

“It grows late,” Jane murmured, her gaze darting over his shoulder as if she sought escape.

“Allow me to show you out,” he heard himself suggest before he could consider why he would want to. To his sister, he added, “Why don’t you freshen up and I’ll take you and Rebecca for ices.”

“Oh!” Her face brightened with delight. Turning to Jane, she hastily said farewell while eliciting another promise to return from her. He watched as Julianne and Rebecca hurried off, tension forming along his shoulders in knowing that he had suggested taking his sister for an ice in order to steal a moment alone with Jane.

Frowning, he took her arm and escorted her down the long length of corridor, his heels clicking over polished parquet. “So you mean to return, then?”