Page 101 of The Viscount's Seduction
A familiar snort drew her.
Lightning turned his great gray nose to her and sudden moisture flooded her, along with the memory of the first time she’d seen Bakeley so many years before.
“Sure, and youarePooka’s,” she whispered, rubbing the spots. “The same markings. The same spark.”
He nosed her skirts and she laughed. “And the same sneaky appetite.”
Selfish of her to not stop for a carrot.
“What then, my fine boy?” she asked, patting his side. “Where was your master last night?”
The stable boy came carrying buckets of water, leaving one in Lightning’s stall.
She found a curry comb and began stroking, thewhisk-whiskof it calming her.
For the first time in their brief marriage, her husband had not shared her bed.
She knew why. He’d learned about Lady Arbrough. No one had told her, but no one had to. In this great house, for all Shaldon’s secretiveness, everyone had a sense of what all the rest were doing. And Bakeley was angry.
Men liked to be in control. If a wife and a mistress were friendly, well, how could he work them against each other?
Her heart felt like she’d breathed in a load of shot. She’d thought to be kind. She’d thought to be sensible—thiswasn’ta love match, and he being a great, wealthy, handsome man, sooner or later he’d have a woman on the side. Great or lowly, men were gullible creatures where the fair sex was concerned, and it was how it was done.
The ache in her chest rose into her throat, and to chase it away she began to croon a song her mother had sung to her.
Bam.
The gelding shied and snorted.
Bam. The pounding had come from another stall.
“You’re not alone then, my boy? And who is that ill-tempered neighbor?”
When she went to investigate, a dark head eyed her, lips pulling back to bare a full set of yellowing teeth.
“Be careful, my lady.” The stable boy, a sandy-haired fellow as slight as herself, stepped out of a shadow. “A mean one is this one. His lordship just brought her in.”
“Is she now?” She held the horse’s curious gaze. “A challenge you will be, will you? Has my wee lullaby discomfited you? Is my singing so bad?”
The boy chuckled.
“Or are we a jealous one?” Sirena said. “Well then, you shall have our attention.” She edged closer. “Come on then. Let’s have a discussion.”
Bakeley was buttoninghis waistcoat when he finally heard a stirring in Sirena’s chamber. A night spent with Charley—and without Sirena—left him irritated and cross. He’d done far more hopping from club to gaming hell than he had in years, trying to run into Sterling Hollister.
Hollister had moved into rooms, but apparently, he’d not yet settled fully into the club life. That would change—a man looking to make his way in politics would have to show his face socially. He’d not yet accepted his invitation to the Shaldon ball, either—though the landlord at the inn said he’d delivered it himself.
Bakeley had arrived home with nothing but an extra ill-tempered horse that he’d won in a card game, and he was too damned snarly himself to wake up his wife for a tupping.
Nor did he want to be questioned in bed about his plans for the day when he was groggy and half out of his mind with lust. Though now…
He went to the connecting door, tapped gently, and opened it. A maid looked up from her dusting and quickly curtsied.
Disappointment ramped up his irritation. He’d slept through Sirena’s rising, and she hadn’t come in to wake him.
“Where is Lady Sirena?” he asked.
“I don’t know, my lord. I haven’t seen her.”
