Page 6 of The Viscount's Seduction
“No doubt you’re right. No doubt. And...whatis your brother up to?”
“He’s dancing with his wife.”
“Not that brother.” Shaldon brought his quizzing glass up to his eye andtut-tutted. “Unsuitable. Woefully, unsuitable, even for a younger son.”
He knew when he was being baited. “Do not rouse an apoplexy, sir. Charles has even less intentions of marrying than I do.”
“He’s dancing.”
“He’s had more than one glass of Hackwell’s punch. Shall I bring you one?”
“No.” Shaldon raised a hand and Perpetua Everly, his youngest child and only daughter, appeared.
“Perry,” Bakeley said. “Must you wear those spectacles to a ball?”
Taller than most of the men, with mouse-brown hair and a penchant for wearing eyeglasses she didn’t truly need, Perry’s only hope of marriage was her enormous dowry.
And whoever hoped to gain it would have to be worthy. Bakeley would see to it.
She shrugged. “Father, should you not be sitting down?” She pushed her spectacles higher and examined the old man.
Thump-thump. The cane hit the floor. “Who is that woman?”
Perry followed his line of sight and pressed her lips on a grin. “I don’t know. She’s not a member of Lady Hackwell’s charity.”
Perry had found a keen friendship with Lady Hackwell and her circle, all wealthy bluestockings sneering at the foibles of the men in their lives. Father hated it. Or seemed to.
Perhaps he should pursue one ofthem, just to rile the old man.
He discarded the idea immediately. He couldn’t abide the continual managing these ladies could dish out. Since Father’s return from the Continent,hismanaging had been enough to bear. Plus, though some of the ladies were attractive, most of the single ones were past their prime, and prime was what he was looking for in any woman who shared his bed, even a wife. Where Father wanted rich, titled and fecund, he was looking for plump, obedient, and welcoming in bed.
If hewereto marry.
The music ended and the orchestra members flipped sheets, preparing for the next dance.
Thump-thump. “Go and rescue that fool. He’s attempting to stand up with her again.”
Bakeley sighed.
“Go. I know you’re in no danger of beguilement.”
“I’m in no danger of getting another glass of punch either.” He patted Perry’s hand. “Find him a chair.”
He searched the room for his brother’s tawny hair. Charley was indeed preparing to stand up again with the same partner. Nodding to acquaintances, he wove through the crowd, reached his brother, and moved him aside.
And his heart launched into a gallop. The beauty that Charley was with—and she was a rare beauty—stared soulfully up at him. The blondest of hair shimmered and gray eyes glowed luminous in the light of many candles.
“How do you do?” Only manners honed by many years of encounters with the fairer sex kept him from stumbling over his words. He bowed. “Charles, Father commands your appearance. I am Bakeley, miss. I hope you do not mind dancing with an older brother.”
Charley sighed, and then shrugged, a grin spreading. “My apologies, my lady. This is not a proper introduction, but it will have to do. This is my brother, Lord Bakeley.”
The lady’s cheeks went unaccountably pink and she ducked her head in a curtsey.
Drat. She perhaps knew him, but he didn’t recognize her. So she was a lady, and beautiful. Was she also rich?
They took their place in the line. Damn, but he should have examined her when Charley had picked her out.
When she moved in a turn around the next gentleman, he looked her over as discreetly as possible. She was a thin little thing in her blue silks, not as plump as he normally liked. What he knew about dresses was almost nothing, but this one seemed to fit with the current fashions, though it had less of the flounces, ribbons, and fluttering pieces.
