Page 48 of The Viscount's Seduction
She wished Josh farewell and a rapid recovery and waited while Bakeley shook their hands. It was a sight for sore eyes, a lord shaking hands with poor Irish men, nothing that her father would have done, nor the new lord of Glenmorrow.
She was tremblingwhen Bakeley led her downstairs and scarcely noticed him wrapping her in her shawl.
Jenny appeared, carrying a valise.
“I’m going with them?” she asked, unease threading through her. Was he sending her away?
“No. Bink will accompany them. You and I are going to spend the rest of the night as Hackwell’s guests. I’ll be up early and out to Doctors’ Commons. You may help Lady Hackwell plan our wedding breakfast.”
“May I not go to my own home?”
“Lady Jane has courage, but if my father decides to interfere with our plans, Hackwell will be a more formidable adversary and a better protector.”
“But who will protect you?”
He froze, and then laughed. “Do you know, you have a point. Well, Hackwell has one or two stout footmen with military backgrounds.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “You forgot this earlier.”
He slipped the sapphire ring on her finger and it twinkled in the light of the servant’s lantern.
It was a beautiful ring, dainty, the stone perfectly sized for her own small self. She’d forgotten it, but he’d remembered. Bakeley was a determined sort.
“And here I thought I might let you slip away from the leg shackle, if you had a mind for it,” she said.
“Not a chance.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid.”
“Afraid? Not a chance for that either.” God’s truth, she was terrified, but she must bluster through this.
She lifted herself up on her toes and kissed him in front of Jenny and the footman holding the door open. “A promise is a promise, Lord Bakeley. If you do not return for me, you shall see how an Irish lady takes her revenge.”
He leaned in close and whispered, “’Tis lucky for you we have all these servants hovering, else you’d see how an English lord takes his lady.”
Her heart thumped wildly. “No,” she whispered back. “Not lucky at all.” She squeezed his hand and hurried away before he could see the heat overtaking her.
“Yes, oh, yes.” Lady Jane clasped her hands together. “Barton has been working on this for days, and we’d meant to surprise you with a new gown, but here you are—you’ve surprised us. A pinch more at the bodice, Barton. Inhale, Sirena. Is this fabric not lovely? This is calledgros de naples.”
The words floated over Sirena while she dutifully obeyed, surveying herself in the mirror. The golden threads of the bodice and overskirt caught the faint light of the dimming day and set the red underskirt afire.
“Princess Charlotte was married in a dress of gold,” Lady Jane said.
Barton removed a pin from her mouth. “Hold still now, my lady. And you’ll have much better luck than the unfortunate princess.”
The princess had died in childbirth. After all Sirena had been through, that didn’t scare her. To have a child of her own would be worth the risk.
“Why, yes,” Lady Jane said. “Barton and I will find a good midwife and keep away all of those men with their leeches and knives.”
“We’re putting the carriage before the horse,” Sirena said. “First the bridegroom must appear with the license and the vicar.”
Barton plucked at the poufy sleeve caps. “There.” She smiled broadly. “Jenny has done well with your hair.”
Lady Jane looked her over. “He was head over ears for you in your made-over dresses. He shall swoon when he sees you in this.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “Perhaps I shall myself swoon in these stays.” Her breasts threatened to spill over the top of the tight lacing. It was nearly indecent, and a march on Lady Arbrough’s bosom-baring campaign.
The door opened and Jenny slipped in. “He’s here.”
She straightened and smoothed her skirts.
“Wait, Sirena.” Lady Jane flipped up the lid on a slim box and lifted a delicate chain, and she pulled another from her pocket.
