Page 95 of The Viscount's Seduction
Her eyes went wide and she sat up, the covers spilling to reveal a lacy nightrail. “Could it be done on purpose? Perhaps the man, Donegal—”
“London’s growing so fast, there are frequent problems like this.”
“But if it’s inside, perhaps one of your people—”
“No.” Though in truth, he’d gone over the list of his staff in his mind, wondering the same thing. But they’d all been checked quite thoroughly, even the new ones.
He traced a finger down the valley of her chest, making her shiver.
She clamped her hand over his. “You’re so sure of yourself.”
The challenge in her voice sent lust storming through him.
He held himself still. “You wish to sleep. You’re probably sore.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant, have a care of your staff, is all. For the other, well, I know my duty. I’m to breed the next little Lord Bakeley.” She turned to him. “And so, husband, here I am.”
Her lips touched his, and he was lost.
Only later, as he was drifting to sleep, the scent of her hair filling him, her words came back, troubling him. She was his chosen wife, not a brood mare. She wasn’t bought and paid for. And, by God, he’d be more to her than the man she married to save her reputation. She’d surrendered her body and it wasn’t enough. He wanted her Irish heart.
Afew days later, Sirena squeezed in next to Perry in the front-facing seats of the Shaldon town carriage. Across from them, Lady Jane sat next to Barton, all but quivering with excitement.
Sirena pushed the curtain aside and peered out. Two riders on each side protected them, along with two men on the coach. “Have we enough outriders?” Sirena muttered. “They’ll think a royal princess is tucked away in this carriage.”
Perry giggled. “Bakeley would have come along himself had he not been meeting with Father, and Bink, and Charley. It’s wonderful the way we’ve all come together.”
“Barton and I am delighted to be visiting Madame Le Fanelle’s,” Lady Jane said.
Barton had been cooking up her dress designs from her observations in the park, shops, and public byways, as well as whichever Ackerman’s fashion plates she could get her hands on. The chance to see the modiste’s shop up close had even the level-headed maid grinning.
“It’s spying, you are,” Sirena said. Perry had whisked her off on the first day to this fashionable dressmaker, where she’d been measured for a wardrobe and fitted with three completed dresses the proprietor had ready for new customers just like her, she’d said. Though Sirena imagined some other poor soul had gone delinquent in her bill-paying.
In spite of Bakeley’s plight with the muck men, Lady Jane had moved in—for a short while only, she’d said—and now, two days later, they were off for more fitting and shopping, and the spying, of course. The time spent on the mundane tasks of arranging menus, planning the flowers, and addressing ball invitations had included more discussions of the dressmaking enterprise, and Barton was quietly eager to see how the most fashionable modiste in London conducted business.
James had interrupted his sewer concerns to come with them on her first modiste visit, both to satisfy himself that she would be safe and, he’d whispered, to take his own measure of the cost of setting up such a business. Madame had greeted him more effusively than she would have had she known his true purpose—and had she not already made the acquaintance of his coin. It may have been the first time he’d crossed the threshold of the shop, but they had, Sirena decided, done business together before.
She’d had to beat down a powerful bout of the green monster, as well as a healthy dose of curiosity, reminding herself that he’d broken with Lady Arbrough, and what had taken place before Bakeley’s marriage was not truly any of her business. This wasn’t a love match, after all. Once he’d got her with child, he’d soon enough leave her bed for another’s.
There again, perhaps he’d only paid his sister Perry’s bills. Yes, that might well be it.
The carriage stopped and they were handed down into the phalanx of guards.
“The street is a quiet one.” Lady Jane bent to whisper to Barton. “And quite respectable. And note the display. Very tasteful.”
Perry smiled behind Lady Jane’s back. “The windows are also so clean they are glistening, and the fixtures are completelyau courant. Come. Let us go up these well-swept stairs and enter.”
Sirena chuckled and followed her new sister. The shop girl who greeted them said Madame was just finishing with a customer, and indeed, Sirena turned and saw the dressmaker walking from the back with a tall, dark-haired lady in a fawn-colored pelisse.
A buzzing started in her head and she sensed Perry moving closer. Of course Bakeley knew this shop—Lady Arbrough had her dresses made here. Perhaps her more intimate attire also, the kind a lord would buy his mistress.
Now he was paying for Sirena’s new attire. A new peignoir, a delicate, frothy thing in white, had been delivered to the great house the day before. He’d removed it from her body not long after she’d donned it.
She felt her face go warm. Lady Arbrough was coming her way, a knowing smile upon her face, yet not an unfriendly one.
“My dear.” Lady Arbrough curtsied. “Lady Perpetua. Lady Sirena. How wonderful to see you both. Am I too bold when I say that I read in the paper the announcement of your news? I do wish you and Bakeley every happiness. Lady Perpetua, you must be thrilled to have a new sister.”
The chatter gave her time to recover. Perry’s initial alarm had faded and now she looked bemused, responding politely. Lady Jane and Lady Arbrough exchanged polite greetings.
