Page 113 of The Viscount's Seduction
Bakeley glanced out the window, his nerves prickling.And we’ll share information later?All he’d been able to think about was comforting her, protecting her, kissing her. He’d not thought to ask her what she’d learned.
And, good God, he’d not taken the opportunity to talk to her about Jocelyn before Barton got to her.
He swiped a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”
A long silence followed, and finally Shaldon spoke. “We shall fix him, my son.”
He let out a long breath. “Indeed we shall, Father. And where are we going today?”
“Today we visit the Home Office.”
And, he prayed, they’d make quick work of it.
Sirena pickedher way through the dinner courses, barely listening to Perry and Lady Jane as they discussed the preparations for the ball.
“I suppose we should have a look,” Perry said. “What do you think, Sirena?”
She lifted her gaze from her plate and sighed. “It’s sorry I am. My thoughts were diverted by this excellent cheese.”
Lady Jane reached over and patted her hand. “Bakeley is out on Lord Shaldon’s business, else he would be home.”
She hated to admit it—shewasworried. Why had he not sent a message, after all his promises? This would make two nights’ separation.
Perry smiled and glanced at Lady Jane. “He’s completely besotted, so you have no worries. And the matter we were discussing was the floor. You’ve already snooped on my surprise, so we might as well all go and have a look at it. The artist is at work, I hear, and if we bring these candles we’ll have enough light. And I know you’re finished since you stopped eating at the first course.”
Her hands tingled. She wanted more than anything to get into that ballroom and speak to the man at work there.
But if Perry was suspicious—no. He could stand in the shadows while they perused the art, and she would divert her friends. She would go back later and speak privately with this man who might know where Jamie was. Irish traitor, radical, what did she care? In Shaldon’s home, there were plenty of servants to protect her.
She rose, took a sconce of candles, and followed Perry.
As they rounded a corner, the footman straightened up from his tired slouch.
“How goes it, Phillip?” Perry asked. “Did you draw the short stick over one of the new men?
“He’s still at work, my lady,” he said. “Lloyd wanted one of the old staff here, so I offered.”
The doors to the ballroom were open, the light pooling in another corner of the room where a figure knelt.
In the dim light, the designs were mere lines and sweeps of shadings.
“The chandeliers and girandoles will brighten this entire room, you will see.” Perry had read her concern, as usual. She was a cagey one.
Perry held out her branch of candles and Lady Jane peered closer. “Oh, I do see.”
“Itwasbeautiful in the daylight,” Sirena said.
“However will they ready the chandeliers?” Lady Jane tiptoed around a white horse in full gallop and paused to study the dark center of the ceiling.
Sirena traced her path and sucked in a sharp breath. It wasn’t a white horse galloping through the ballroom—’Twas a white unicorn, its yellow horn catching a glint of the candle flame. Had she had her hands free, she would have clapped them together and shrieked.
The artist had come to his feet and was waiting for them. He stood in front of his lamp, casting his own face in shadows.
“We’ve come to inspect your work.” Perry advanced on him, her candles lighting his face. She stopped a good several feet away. “What is that you’re working on there?”
Sirena’s pulse quickened. Perry’s voice crackled with an edge that said something had gone amiss.
“It is a special Irish design, your ladyship. As you requested.”
