Page 74 of The Viscount's Seduction
“I see. So happy we’ve now been introduced, my lord. Who is the man you’re reporting on?”
“Donegal,” Shaldon said dryly.
As if Bakeley should have known that.
“Fineas Donegal, to be exact,” Farnsworth said, “of County Donegal.”
“Pseudonymous, in other words.”
“Indeed.” Farnsworth nodded his head in a way that Bakeley took to mean he was pleased.
The patronizing irritated him. “How can we be sure this was not just a random group of highwaymen? Bink was conveying new goods for his home, after all.”
Shaldon nodded. “It’s possible.”
Bakeley had reviewed Bink’s scribbled missive earlier that morning. Their four attackers had been injured, but all had managed to escape. “Father, how soon will the men you sent report back?”
“As soon as ever they can,” Farnsworth said. “And may I congratulate you, sir, on your marriage to Lady Sirena Hollister? We’ll do all we can to keep her safe.”
A hard knot formed in his chest. “From Donegal?”
“From any danger, Lord Bakeley.”
“And is she in danger from Donegal?”
Farnsworth looked to Shaldon.
Bakeley leaned back casually and crossed his leg. “It is she who wishes to speak to Donegal. She believes he has information about her brother. It’s what he told the men reporting to you, the O’Brians. Tell me, why would this dangerous radical Donegal lead her to believe he would have such information?”
“Do you know her brother’s reputation?” Shaldon eyed him in that supercilious manner that said he was too rash, too careless.
He brushed some dust off his boot. After his talk with Bink, he’d recollected the story he’d pieced together after his visit to Glenmorrow years ago. “Hollister turned on all that was British and became an Irish nationalist.”
“Roland James Hollister, yes,” Shaldon said. “Thatwasthe story. But Fitzgerald’s plotting soured him on the rebels. He found he didn’t wish to kill his own father. But once ensnared, there was no way out, except to counterspy. In the end, he worked for me.”
Red blazes clouded Bakeley’s vision. Of course. He had known it in his bones, all those years ago, sent to deliver a hefty purse to the Earl of Glenmorrow. He’d known then that Father had his hand and arm in this business all the way to his shoulder. “So Donegal wants—what? Revenge on Hollister through Sirena?” The thought sent chills through him. “That makes no sense if Hollister has been dead these, what? Fifteen years?”
The silence stretched long enough for his brain to reach across the short space and know what his father was thinking.Donegal believed Hollister would contact his sister.
It was up to him to keep her safe, because he did not want to lose her.
“I should like to hear this story from the beginning. Will you indulge me?”
His father sighed deeply, seeming to embrace every one of the lines on his face. “Pour us a brandy, Liam.”
The usual cloudof tobacco smoke enveloped Bakeley as he entered White’s. He spotted Charley seated with two young bucks whose names didn’t come readily to him, especially not now, not while his mind was clouded with the possibilities of danger to Sirena.
Father had dropped him, wondering aloud why Bakeley wasn’t returning directly to Shaldon House and his new wife, but promising to check on her.
“Bakeley.” Charley raised a hand in greeting. The other two men welcomed him and hastily took their leave.
“Fine fellows,” Charley said.
“Your school friends, are they not? I don’t remember their names.”
“They won’t notice. Foxed already, they are.”
“Indeed.”
