Page 4 of The Viscount's Seduction
Chapter 2
London, 1821
“You may meeta young man at this ball, Sirena.” Lady Jane Monthorpe sent a sly look to Barton, her maid, who simply lifted her eyebrows.
Lady Sirena Hollister cast her own glance at the able-bodied and sadly underpaid lady’s maid and winked. “So, you’ve dragged us from Dublin to London to be rid of me, my lady?” she asked.
Barton clamped her lips tight on what Sirena knew would be a smile and went back to straightening the pleats on Lady Jane’s bodice.
Lady Jane pressed the back of her hand to her still smooth forehead. “Ah, fair Sirena, let us get thee to thy ball, the better to bring forth some dashing young seafarer to your siren’s call.”
Sirena laughed out loud. “’Tis a poetess you are, my lady. You look lovely tonight, and I daresay there will be a host of handsome lords taken with you also.”
“And will you stop wriggling,” Barton said.
“Well, I suppose I must if you order it, Barton.” Lady Jane smiled and the final primping was completed. “We have done well in these dresses. And it is all due to your skill, Barton. No one will suspect they were once last year’s fashions.”
“Indeed not.” Sirena gathered Lady Jane’s wrap. In her own case, there would be no suspecting. The ladies in attendance tonight would know her cerulean blue silk was made over from one of Lady Jane’s three-year-old dresses.
She smoothed the skirt. No matter. With its tucks and trims it was still the finest dress she’d ever had.
“I do believe, Barton, you must open up your own shop, right here, in London. Why else should we have made the journey? Lady Sirena will entice all of her wealthy friends to patronize your establishment.”
Why indeed come to this wretched, expensive, smelly city? All teasing about dress shops aside, her benefactress had insisted they must come to London for the new king’s coronation, though they were having to pinch extra farthings out of every half-pence.
Barton’s smile was kind, as always. In the short time Sirena had been with both women, she’d heard them speak often of this fairy dream of a dress shop.
“Then I must truly ignore dashing young sailors and direct my song to someone in commerce,” Sirena said. “I wonder, will there be anyone like that attending tonight?”
“Most certainly.” Lady Jane nodded. “Lord Cathmore, and he is in trade.”
Sirena propped her hands on the smooth silk covering her hips. “And he is most certainly taken. Lady Cathmore would object to a strange girl cooing at her husband.”
Barton chuckled.
“Barton is laughing at us, Sirena. For shame. Now, Barton, you are not to wait up. Sirena will help me out of my stays. And Sirena, my dear, we are late. We will miss the first dance.”
James Everly, Viscount Bakeley, all but leaned his tall frame against the wall of Hackwell House’s ballroom, wishing he could fade into the damask wallpaper.
“Here you are, your lordship.” His younger brother, Charles Everly, smiled slyly and handed him a glass.
Bakeley swirled the dark liquid. “What swill are the ladies serving tonight?”
“Taste and see, brother. Taste and see.”
He put his lips to the glass briefly, then tipped it back for a deeper draught.
Charley chuckled. “Hackwell’s a good chap. Serves a proper punch. I first met him in Brussels, you know, at Lady Devonshire’s infamous ball.”
Bakeley stifled a sigh. Charley had been at Waterloo, not fighting exactly, but engaged in some scheme of their father’s. Charley had been there, their eldest brother Bink Gibson had been there, as well as their host and any number of his friends in attendance tonight.
He, Bakeley, had been in London, seeing to the routine business of the Earl of Shaldon.
It was another reminder of his lot in life.
He schooled his face into a bored mask. “You failed to appear tonight at dinner, Charley.” He’d been counting on his brother diverting their father.
“You’re not the only one with another interest. By the way, where is Lady Arbrough tonight?”
