Page 50 of The Viscount's Seduction
Yesterday, his future daughter—or perhaps the wedding ceremony had been completed and she was his current daughter—had had a gleam in her eye to test the devil. Bakeley had chosen a strong woman. “I would have wagered on it, Kincaid. But she’d only have done it to save those men fighting in her behalf. My grandchildren will be in good hands.”
Kincaid snorted. “They’ll be Whigs, every one of them.”
He laughed. “No they won’t. It’s the plight of the parents to have their children oppose them. It seems all my children have Whiggish propensities. My grandsons will be good solid Tories.”
“It was good Bakeley appeared when he did, else we would have had to intervene,” Kincaid said. “You’ll not hold it against her that she ruined the day?”
“I should, but I find I cannot.”
“That was more than the usual mayhem. I’d say she was very close to the man.”
Shaldon frowned. “Any news of her brother?”
“The rumors are churning. But why the devil come back here and now? You’ll take an extra guard with you when you’re gadding about.”
“Hmmph. Come, we’ll be late.”
The town coach waited in front, and they climbed in.
“Hello, Father.” Perpetua smiled up at him, her lovely, bookish face framed in a most becoming bonnet. Here was another political contrarian. Finding a husband acceptable to her was proving to be quite a challenge, though he doubted she’d yet realized he was making the effort.
Kincaid climbed in and greeted her.
“What did I say about Whigs, Kincaid? You should not be attending today, Perpetua. I’m afraid your brother is becoming a bad influence.”
“Because he supports the Poor Laws, Father? Or is it on account of his interest in London sewers and the Fever Hospital?” Her smile grew bolder. “Or, because he’s given up his mistress and is marrying happily?”
He grunted. “One Spanish daughter-in-law and one Irish—cannot anyone marry a good English girl?”
“Perhaps Charley will, Father.”
Kincaid’s gaze barely glanced off of him but he caught the hint of a smirk. Since returning from the Continent, Charley had wormed himself in with the entire foreign diplomatic corps, primarily the wives. What he learned he passed on to Kincaid. What Kincaid learned, he passed on to Shaldon.
She smiled. “Though I doubt it will be any time soon.”
Bakeley pacedthe length of the library again.
“Good God, man, she’ll be right along. She hasn’t fled the premises, and no one has been by to snatch her up today. My lady wife is bringing her along.” Hackwell poured a finger of brandy and marched it over to Bakeley. “Down the hatch. Vicar, would you like a tot?”
“Perhaps just a little.” This vicar was not the scrupulous sort, nor one of the wealthy younger sons settled into an easy living. The generous sum Bakeley offered had pulled him expeditiously out of a parish meeting.
“Take a seat and review those documents, will you?” Hackwell pointed at a sheaf of papers on the library table. “I had the solicitor follow your requirements precisely, but you’ll wish to double-check.”
He sighed as he pulled out the chair. “I thank you.” No doubt he could trust Hackwell, but he could hear his mother’s voice telling him that honest men never minded having their work checked. Besides, this document would commemorate an irrevocable choice. He wanted it correct from the start.
A lifetime of reading legal documents allowed him to skim through the text and determine that all was in order. As he was straightening the papers, the door opened.
Lady Hackwell entered, her serious expression sending a jolt of worry through him.
Sirena had changed her mind.
But no, Lady Jane followed behind her and smiled at him. He jumped from the seat and went around the table just as Sirena entered.
His heart tried to pound its way out of his chest. She was a vision in a golden dress that glowed. Or she glowed, he wasn’t sure. Her breasts perched daringly high, ready to spring out.
Into his mouth.
Stand down, old man.
