Page 73 of The Viscount's Seduction
Charley said nothing. He also had learned to wait out the paternal pauses.
And…of course, Bakeley was present and not supposed to know Charley’s affair was more spying.
“It will take its toll. Only compare how fresh your brother looks, and that after two sleepless days.”
Charley smirked. “And his wedding night.”
“And I did not shirk my duty last night. Perhaps it’s time we find you a bride, Charley.”
“By your schedule, I have a few more years before becoming leg-shackled. And I do believe it is I who spotted your bride and turned her over to you.”
Shaldon’s cane cracked. “You are bickering like a child, Charles.” The carriage came to a stop. “I don’t think we want you with us in your current state.”
Charley started to grin and swiped a hand across his mouth to hide it.
Shaldon climbed out of the carriage first.
“Curse you, Charley,” Bakeley said. “This is one of his traps. If I don’t return by nightfall, send runners to search for me.”
“I confess, I’m relieved. And after all, this concerns your lady, does it not?”
“So he says.”
“Bakeley,” Shaldon called.
Bakeley gritted his teeth. “There’s another matter of Sirena’s I’m looking into. Can you meet me later at White’s?”
Charley yawned.
“Youdiddisrupt my wedding night.”
“It ran into the morning, did it? No wonder you’re looking so refreshed and pleased. You shall have to tell me all about it. Or...not.” He laughed. “Stop glowering. Yes. I’ll meet you there.”
The carriage drove off and the front door opened. A strapping footman greeted them, eying them up and down, and when they’d passed his examination, leading them up a set of stairs.
A man rose from an armchair near the front window. He was younger than Shaldon, shorter than his visitors, with a wiry physique and dark hair streaked with iron gray.
“Lord Shaldon.” He bowed. “Lord Bakeley.”
“Be seated.” Shaldon waved both of them into chairs, exactly as if he were the lord of this manor.
The room was a study or library, and from the disorderly arrangement of books and periodicals, clearly a gentlemen’s room.
Shaldon sat erect. “So what have you learned, Farnsworth?”
“As you expected, he’s disappeared again.”
Bakeley’s head spun. They’d been plotting behind his back for far longer than a few days.
A sense of betrayal gnawed at him. He shook it off and made himself concentrate.
“I received a report from my eldest. Gibson and his people were attacked on the way to Little Norwick.”
Silence stretched as though both men were reading each other’s thoughts.
Well, Bakeley was not a mind reader. “Mr. Farnsworth—”
“LordFarnsworth, son. Farnsworth is a baron.”
