Page 21 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

Jeremy looked up and down the street. “I do not see Conroy or his accomplice anywhere in the area, so I believe I will be safe,” he said, giving Derrek a smile as cheeky as the ones Derrek usually gave him.

Derrek laughed, met his eyes for a fond, lingering look, then turned to stride off toward the pub.

Jeremy spent the first few seconds of his departure staring at his thick thighs and broad shoulders, and wishing he could see the swell of Derrek’s bum under the hem of his coat. When he dragged his eyes away from that sight, however, he noticed that he was also the object of a few people’s scrutiny.

He smiled in return at the grocer’s wife in the doorway of the shop across from where he sat. The woman smiled uneasily in return before ducking into the shop. He tried nodding to a cobbler who was busy practicing his trade at a bench he must have set up in front of his shop to enjoy the day’s good weather, but the man barely acknowledged him before going back to his work.

The last thing Jeremy wanted was to feel self-conscious or suspicious around people who were supposed to make him feel safe. Admittedly, he and Derrek were being a bit too friendly with each other, but he’d seen ordinary friends treat each other with the same kindness in London and no one had batted an eyelash.

He got up, picking up the basket to carry with him, and decided the best thing for it was to wander around the village, making certain he was seen by its inhabitants in as non-threatening a way as possible. It was as likely as not that the people around him were merely suspicious of strangers and that they had not even dreamed about what sort of men he and Derrek were.

There was much to see in the village, which made his perusal of the place enjoyable. The place was tiny, to his mind, but it contained everything that London could offer, just on a smaller scale. He observed the cobbler for a moment, commenting on the exquisite quality of his wares. He complimented the baker on the deliciousness of the pies he and Derrek had eaten and splurged on a few small cakes for tea later that evening. He watched the blacksmith at work for a while, noting how strong his form was, though it was nothing compared to Derrek’s beauty.

The main object of his interest in the village, however, was the seamstress’s shop that sat halfway down the high street. It appeared to be closed, but there was so much to see through the front window that he paused there to drink it all in.

Women’s clothing and haberdashery had never been Jeremy’s main focus, but he knew the particulars of how it was constructed and he’d kept up with the latest trends and styles, despite being a men’s tailor. The dresses and other items in the shop window were of a surprisingly fine quality, though they were nowhere near as refined or à la mode as what could be found in London. That made perfect sense, however, as the seamstress’s clientele was likely country folk.

He’d leaned into the window to get a better look deep into the shop but stepped back suddenly at the sound of someone approaching behind him. As it turned out, he moved a bit too fast and stepped too far. Without trying to, he collided with a harried woman of an age close to his, upsetting her armful of paper-wrapped parcels. His basket slid off his arm as well, resulting in everything that both of them had been carrying scattering in the dirt of the road around them.

“Lord have mercy!” the woman exclaimed in her country accent.

“I am so terribly sorry,” Jeremy replied, immediately bending to help her pick up her things. “I should not have stepped back so quickly.”

He reached for her parcels first, hoping that by lifting them quickly, he could spare the bolts of fabric that the parcels contained from becoming dirty.

“I should have been better at watching where I was going,” the woman said, gathering up the purchases Jeremy and Derrek had made earlier and putting them back into the basket, which she righted.

“You had quite a load to carry,” Jeremy said as affably as possible. “I know from carrying bolts of fabric myself that it can be a challenge to see while doing so.”

The woman straightened, lifting Jeremy’s basket with her, and stared pointedly at him. “A London accent?” she asked. “You must be one of the men everyone in the village is talking about.”

Heat flooded Jeremy’s face as he adjusted the fabric bolts and other packages in his arms. “People are talking about us?” he asked anxiously.

“Of course they are,” the woman said. “It’s not every day two gentlemen from London arrive in our village.”

“Oh, we are not gentlemen,” Jeremy said, lowering his face modestly.

“That’s what old Michael Croft hinted at,” the woman said with a smirk.

Jeremy snapped his eyes up to meet hers. “We aren’t…that isn’t what…we are friends only.”

The woman laughed, seemingly amused by Jeremy’s panic. “I never said you were, love.” The way she tilted her head and raked him with a glance hinted that he was the one who made the damning implication.

“Derrek is my…my cousin,” he said, inventing a story as quickly as he could. “We’ve come this far into Kent because…because his father has just passed and there is a small matter of inheritance to settle.”

It was a daft thing to say, but he could not think of anything else quickly enough.

Fortunately for him, Derrek arrived just then and had evidently heard his fabrication. “That is correct,” he added, stopping and staring at the woman with his arms crossed, daring her to contradict him. “My father just passed, and Cousin Jeremy here, who has more of a head for business than I do, agreed to accompany me for the reading of the will and settling of Da’s property.”

“Is that so,” the woman said, looking utterly unconvinced. With Jeremy’s basket looped over one arm, she crossed her arms and stared at Derrek. “And what village is your father from?”

“Aylesford,” Derrek answered without pause.

“What’s his name?”

“Robert,” Derrek replied.

“Why are you staying here instead of up there?”

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