Page 100 of The Viscount's Seduction
“As I recall, she was quite adept,” Farnsworth said. “Do you believe she has retained her skills?”
“The question is, will she be willing?” Kincaid said. “Shall I undertake to speak with her, or will one of you?”
“Not Shaldon,” Farnsworth said. “She hasn’t forgiven you quite yet for accusing her of double-dealing.”
Shaldon cleared his throat and sent a menacing look toward the two men.
So Shaldon wouldn’t have set her upon him, but perhaps she’d set herself in his path so she could wreak revenge on his father.
Much like his wife had done. A tingle crept up his spine.
And anger reared anew in him. Until two years ago he’d been a man, competent, able, and in control of an empire. Now he had tingles and headaches.
Bakeley glared back. “I’ll speak to her. That will support the story, will it not?”
“Can we trust her?” Charley asked.
“Excellent question, Charley. You are not as drunk as I thought you were. Can we, Father?”
Shaldon’s eyes narrowed on him. “Yes, I believe we can.”
“Very well. I’ll engage to speak to her.” And he would speak to his father later, privately, to spare the old man’ssensibilities. “Now, let us get down to the specifics of our plan.”
Later, as they left the meeting, Bink pulled Bakeley aside.
“It’s a bad business, this,” Bink said. “I’ll go with you to talk to her.”
The last person he wanted with him when he talked to Lady Arbrough was one of his brothers. “Not necessary,” he said. “And I’m not visiting her at her home.”
“What about your wife’s feelings?” The steely-eyed glare reminded him of the one Bink had delivered the day they rescued Sirena. Defender of women and children, was his brother.
“What about them? Did you not tell me she insisted on inviting my former mistress to her wedding ball?”
Bink shook his head. “It did seem a bit too fashionable.”
Bakeley climbed into the unmarked coach where Shaldon already waited. Perhaps he should rejoice his wife was so open-minded.
Outside the coach, Bink hesitated. Charley and Kincaid had already ridden off on their mounts. “I’ll hail a hackney.”
“We’re going your way,” Shaldon said.
“You’ll want to talk.” He pushed the door closed and the coach drove off.
“Well, Father. We’re alone. If I’m to recruit Lady Arbrough, I’ll need to hear all about her escapades.”
His father sighed expressively.
“If you swoon, do not expect me to catch you.”
“Ungrateful pup.” Shaldon smiled and then laughed.
Sirena wokebefore dawn to the sound of a door closing. Her second day here, she and the housekeeper had come to terms, and Jenny now had a proper bed. This night, it had been herself falling asleep on her chaise longue, waiting for Bakeley. She sat up, watching the connecting door and anticipating his warmth, her heart sinking lower with each passing minute.
Finally, she rose, dressed in her old work gown, and went below stairs, surprising a yawning maid who was stirring the kitchen fire.
In the mews, a lone stable boy roused at her passing and pulled at his cap. She waved him back to his doze, and looked down the aisle at the empty stalls.
The brickwork looked dry to her. Why was he keeping the horses away?
