Page 142 of The Viscount's Seduction
And then he stopped and set her back.
“Another promise for later?” she asked, breathless.
“Yes. For now, we must see this through.”
And what else was to happen that he hadn’t told her about?
Lord Shaldon’sface transformed when he spotted them, a look of relief sweeping away tension. She was starting to be able to see his moods.
He left the imposter prime minister and came to greet them.
He took Sirena’s hand. “You’re well?”
She nodded.
“Good. The supper dance can now start.”
He waved to the musicians.
Bakeley led her onto the dance floor. The violinist pulled a note.
Lloyd’s voice rang out over the crowd announcing an arrival. “Lord Glenmorrow,” he intoned.
The crowd murmured, of course they did, having listened to Hollister droning at the start of the ball.
She teetered against Bakeley. Her cousin was dead. Donegal was missing, but what of that? With the full force of the English government, they’d find him. They must get this evening over, before all her loose threads unraveled.
She needed Bakeley’s arms holding her, tonight and every night. Forever.
She was in love with this English lord.
The murmuring all around them turned to stunned amazement when Jamie appeared, looking magnificent in his coats, his hair brushed into fashionable disarray, the ugly fake scar washed away.
Whether he was true, or whether he was black of heart, she didn’t know. He was her brother, and Bakeley was right—they must see this through.
Whispers started, the guests looking around, for Sterling Hollister perhaps, the other Lord Glenmorrow. Sirena latched onto Bakeley’s arm and tugged him across the floor, pushing through the hushed conversations.
The talk of the Season they would continue to be, at least in the scandal sheets.
Jamie stood alone when they reached him. She reached for his hands, and then wrapped her arms around him. Shorter than Bakeley, he was, but still taller than her own self.
The gasping and whispers took her own breath away.
She released him and stepped back, next to Bakeley. “One for the ages, you are, brother,” she said.
He smiled, and she saw her father before the drink had got to him. She squeezed back a tear.
“’Tis a warm welcome home, sister. Lord Bakeley, I am most pleased to meet you.” They shook hands. “And, ah.” He bowed. “Lord Shaldon. We meet again.”
She stepped back and let Jamie be introduced to Lord Liverpool, and couldn’t help but grin like a ninny.
Bakeley signaled and footmen scurried with trays, passing glasses all around.
Shaldon raised a glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, a toast. Abrieftoast.”
The crowd tittered.
“A toast to my heir, Bakeley, and his new bride, the next Lady Shaldon.”
