Page 68 of The Viscount's Seduction
He sighed at the mention of Shaldon. “Most of the time my father was gone.”
She pondered that. “You saw him on holidays?”
“He was gone, Sirena, for years. We went years without seeing him. He came home for good a few years ago.”
She pushed his hand away and sat up. “And now he wants to know his sons.”
“Yes.”
“And to manage them.”
“That also.”
She bent her knees and tucked her arms around them, letting her breasts rest on her legs, no longer shy, it seemed. “Are we to live at Shaldon House, then?”
He couldn’t help groaning. They were on to business already.
“Do you want to?”
She pinched at a clump of the sheet where the tiniest spots of blood were drying to brown. In an older time, they’d be hanging that sheet out of the window, as the proof that his bride had been innocent, and that any subsequent issue would be his.
“I don’t know what to think. I’m not afraid to work. I know even here I’ll have the responsibility of this house, won’t I? I don’t want to interfere in Perry’s domain, yet I’d be happy to help her and learn from her until such time as you become Shaldon.” She lay back and turned on her side, propping herself up and mirroring his posture. “I want some freedom to come and go. I don’t want to feel I’m in a prison. At home, the last few years, I helped a great deal with the horse breeding. Keeping the records, yes, but also helping with the exercise and training. Even the grooming at times. I’m not afraid of hard work.”
His heart filled with the memory of her dressed in her sagging trousers.
She’d not be grooming horses at any of their properties.
“We’ve a proper mews at Shaldon House. And I’ve brought up a sweet gelding that Perry doesn’t ride often enough.”
She kissed his nose. “Not that wild one you were riding the other morning?”
“No.”
“May I seehim?”
"Yes.” She might see him, but he wouldn’t allow her to ride him. Which might be a tetchy subject.
“And perhaps,” he said quickly, “you should have a tour of the house. There’s a lovely chamber near mine. And thenyoumay decide.”
She flipped onto her back. “We’d have separate rooms there.” The idea seemed to displease her.
“Only when you’re out of temper with me.”
She turned her head and her eyes were thoughtful. “What does he mean to do with me, do you think? How does he plan to find this Donegal?”
Ah, Donegal. She’d dodged the bait to tease him back, and now they were on to the next business. “What do you know about him?”
“I asked the O’Brians to find out anything they could about the survivors of the ship my brother left on, and they said Donegal would have information.” She frowned. “If they worked for your father, he fed them that information.”
“It’s possible.”
“But, no, Walter said he spoke to the man. I don’t think he would lie about that.”
“Did he describe him?”
“Yes. A big man with sandy hair and a rough beard, very hard, from a lifetime at sea, and cagey, Walter said, about my brother. He said he’d talk to me for a price.”
“And how would this man have information?” he mused. “He was on the ship himself, or he rescued the survivors, or—”
