Page 22 of The Viscount's Seduction
The moment she’d entered, he’d spotted her speaking with Perry. But he’d just caromed from Lady Arbrough to Lady Denholm and her daughter, Lady Glenna, and when he’d finally detached from that excruciating snare, Lady Sirena had vanished.
Lady Glenna was a pretty girl, with a figure that matched her generous dowry, and what she said had been very pro forma, just what one did say when one was a first season girl meeting one’s possible future husband—which meant just enough to show that she was well-bred, virginal, and obedient.
In short, she was perfect.
Blast it all. Father could marry her himself.
Speaking with Lady Glenna had only rekindled the need to see Lady Sirena, to speak with her, to know her better, to find out her secrets.
And to touch her, perhaps even to taste her and see if her lips were as saucy as what came out of them.
He stiffened his spine. He would not touch her, because he would not ruin her. He was not that sort of man.
Perry stood by her harp. Two other young ladies had trotted out a violin and a violoncello and were preparing to accompany her after her solo. She was speaking now, trying to bring the roomful of disorderly aristocrats into submission.
“Your attention, please,” he boomed from his spot in the back. The room instantly quietened. From across the room Perry’s smile warmed him. Whoever she married must be the best of men. He would not let their father impose some aging roué on her.
A rustle behind him drew his attention.
Lady Arbrough and Lady Sirena entered arm and arm, and he stifled a groan. He wouldn’t dare sit with either of them—Lady Arbrough, because it would be too public a display of their relationship, and Lady Sirena, because it would be too public a display of his interest in a relationship that did not exist yet.
And it never will. You may not touch her.
Lord Pelham rushed to greet both ladies and carry Lady Arbrough away, tucked a little too closely at his side.
Bakeley did not feel one whit of jealousy.
Lady Sirena had detached herself, shaking her head vigorously, refusing to accompany them.Good girl. Jocelyn was drawing her in, or at least trying. He’d warn Lady Sirena to stay away from the widow.
Jocelyn’s dress was provocative enough to have every man staring bug-eyed. She’d been irritated by his failure to appear at her home for the last week. Or had it been longer? He’d sent flowers daily, along with excuses.
Pelham was welcome to her.
He spotted Lady Sirena hunched near the wall and irritation spiked in him. She was a guest. She could drop the meek companion performance tonight.
If he joined her, he’d prove to her and to everyone, that in this house, she was an equal.
He shook himself. Joining her wouldn’t help the lady, it would only incite gossip.
The tones of the harp washed over him, striking on every nerve. Normally he enjoyed his sister’s musical attempts. Now, he could only wish he might find the right, polite moment to leave his station in the back of the room.
Father’s head swiveled, his lips pressing into a frown when their gazes met.
And perhaps he would join the fair Lady Sirena just to poke the old man’s goat. And drag her off to a side room where he might kiss her silly.
He eased in a breath, and tried to let the flat notes and jumbled chords divert him. Shaldon turned his gaze back to the dais, and finally the first piece ended. Jocelyn cast a smirk his way, then leaned to whisper in Pelham’s ear. He in turn said something to make her laugh.
The next piece began, an ensemble with Perry’s friends, drawing all eyes to the front.
His gaze sought out Lady Sirena like a bee searching after a flower and—she was gone.
