Page 96 of The Viscount's Seduction
Lady Arbrough swept a gaze over Sirena. “I see Madame’s hand in your gown. That shade of blue is very becoming.”
Sirena smiled. “Perry, will you introduce Madame to Lady Jane?”
“Most certainly. Come along, and Barton too. You must see the collection of trims Madame keeps handy.”
Sirena waited until they were out of earshot to speak. “You’re saying in your polite way that ’tis good I’m rid of the primrose?” She added a chuckle to defuse her impertinence.
“I shall always be honest with my fashion advice. My dear, I meant what I said.”
“That you wish me every happiness?”
“Yes, that too. But no, what I mean is, I meant what I said that night at Shaldon House. I believe we shall be fast friends.” She lowered her voice. “That past arrangement is truly the past, never to be reopened, and must have no impact on your current and future happiness. Wecanbe friends.”
Sirena tried to imagine what her husband would say about that. “I’m not being pert, my lady, but have we anything in common besides Bakeley?”
Lady Arbrough smiled. “I do like your pertness. And you like my fashion sense. That is a good place to start. And so, we can be friends. Perhaps not right away, though. We shall give society a cooling off period.”
Lady Arbrough curtsied. “I wish you great success with your ball.” There was an edge to her voice.
Wistfulness, Sirena decided. Or, perhaps the woman was waggling her way into an invitation, playing to Sirena’s understanding of what it meant to stand outside and look in.
The ball was looking to be a very curious affair. Shaldon had somehow secured the attendance of the Prime Minister, a few cabinet ministers, and a duke or two. Lady Arbrough’s name hadn’t been discussed, but her friends had omitted her, out of consideration to herself, probably.
It took but a second to decide. “You must come. Your invitation has not gone out, but it will. I’ll need every friend I can get at this ball. You may whisper to all of your acquaintances that I’m destined to be a fashion leader.”
Lady Arbrough’s handsome face softened. “You are too kind, Lady Sirena. You may be sure that I’ll tell everyone you have exquisite taste. Adieu.”
She watched the graceful departure, and wondered if Lady Arbrough’s heart still bore a tiny flame for Bakeley. For surely, she hadn’t been talking about Sirena’s taste in fashion.
Sometime later sheplopped into the carriage seat beside Lady Perry, head pounding, and arms sore from lifting them for fittings. “Well, Barton? Did you see everything that you needed today?”
“Yes, my lady. I even had a peek at the back workroom.”
“But not the ledgers,” Lady Jane said. “I couldn’t find those in her office.”
Perry’s mouth dropped open. “You looked?” She laughed and shook her head.
“I was trying to fetch a sketch I’d seen on her table,” Lady Jane said.
“Heavens,” Sirena said. “Best not let Madame know. If she wields a dagger like she does a straight pin, we’ll all be poked to a quick death.”
“Oh, but I wanted that sketch for Barton to copy—which reminds me. Will you drop us at the stationers? Barton needs fresh drawing paper. We’ll walk home from there.”
“Why should we not all go?” Perry asked. “I know just the place.” She leaned out and spoke to the groom.
When they arrived at the shop, Sirena begged off going in. She lay her head back against the squab and watched Barton and Lady Jane hurry in. Perry paused at the shop window, studying the paintings displayed there.
No, she was transfixed by one painting, a large pastoral scene of green hills, trees, and a patch of blue lake. Sirena’s lack of training in the fine arts rendered it just pretty, not worthy of stopping an accomplished girl like Perry in her tracks.
Oh, but wasn’t her new sister a bit of an odd one? She closed her eyes. And she would never say that to Perry or anyone. Odd she might be, but she had the makings of a true sister.
Days later, across town, Bakeley took a place across from Shaldon at the dining table at the house in Knightsbridge.
Bink, Charley, Kincaid, and Farnsworth had joined them. Kincaid had planned to bring two of his men, burly Scotsmen he’d brought south to protect Bink two years before and never sent home, but they were shadowing his wife on some other errand related to the upcoming ball.
His plan to keep her home was not working.
The Scottish guards were a small comfort, as was the presence of two additional grooms accompanying Sirena’s town coach. Shaldon’s men were never just normal grooms and footmen. Hell, even some of the maids had been pressed from the families of his operatives, and paid well. Bakeley knew because he’d followed his lordships hiring instructions and seen to the wages these many years.
