Page 90 of The Viscount's Seduction
She shook her head. “The housekeeper will have an apoplexy.”
“Then we’ll hire a new one, love.”
Love.Sirena’s heart squeezed around the word that Bakeley blathered so easily. An endearment that tripped from his lips, so he’d probably used it before on a horse, or a hound, or a harlot.
She would have mere days to arrange a fashionable ball, a thing of which she had no experience. ’Twould all be done for people who held his Paddy bride in abject contempt.
And sure, they’d hire someone for the planning. Several someones if she truly had any say in the matter. They’d need more footmen and maids as well.
A scratching at the door roused Bakeley from his chair, and the butler entered.
“Beg pardon, my lords,” he said. “The cellar is seeping again. You did ask me to tell you, Lord Bakeley.”
Bakeley swiped a hand through his hair. What had Perry said? He’d designed all the drainage himself.
Well, and perhaps he’d not done a good job of it, a lord dabbling in a working man’s trade.
And…hadn’t she been lolling around in a great bloody tub all afternoon? That would be her bathwater seeping out in the cellar.
“I have some of the men seeing to it.”
“Thank you, Lloyd. I’ll be right down.” Bakeley closed the door on the man.
“The sewer,” Shaldon said. “Threats to the Crown, and you worry about sewers.”
Bakeley scowled. “Miasma fevers and marsh gas explosions are also threats to the Crown.”
Sirena stood. “Twas my bath—”
“No,” Bakeley said. “The public sewer is backing up again. Come.” He reached for her hand. “I’ll take you back to your chamber. Shall I send Perry up so you can begin organizing the ball?”
Her heart trembled within her. Dump her he would, after all she’d discovered, and go and deal with his shite.
She forced a light tone. “Lady Perry will be abed, or near to it. You’re going down to your dungeons?”
“The cellars, yes.”
A part of the Shaldon House tour she’d missed. “Then I’ll find my own way.” She nodded to Shaldon. “Good night, then…Father, Bakeley.”
She rushed out, but Bakeley caught up with her in the corridor outside her bedchamber, touching her waist. Blast him.
“Sirena—”
“Go,” she said, trying to sound cheerful.
“Go to bed then. I’ll be right along.”
“To join me?”
“If you wish.”
If she wished?Anger bubbled up in her, like Bakeley’s seeping sewage.
She pasted on a smile and faced him.
A lamp had been lit in the corridor. Surely the dim light would hide her falseness.
“Twas truly not the bath?” she asked.
