Page 11 of The Viscount's Seduction
They sipped chocolate until Lady Jane broke the companionable silence. “It probably wasn’t his fault, you know.”
“Whose fault, my lady?”
“Shaldon’s. He probably didn’t bring about your brother’s demise.”
Her pulse quickened and raced, the way it had when they’d talked about attending the Hackwell ball. She’d confided her great desire to meet the Earl of Shaldon, else the older lady’s pride would have caused her to turn down Lady Hackwell’s most courteous offer of a carriage.
And, Sirena was certain Lady Jane was wrong on this point. Shaldon had run the network of spies who had reported her brother as one of the United Ireland men.
Well, what if he was? There were rebels of all stripes, and she knew, her brother would never have countenanced the kind of violence that had led to wholesale atrocities. In her young eyes, he’d been noble, kind, and so much more level-headed than their horse-mad father.
Because of Shaldon, her brother had been lost, along with the title. The new Glenmorrow had failed to provide for her. Worse, he’d forced her from her home.
She shook off the thought. It had been a blessing from God and Brighid that Lady Jane had been a guest at the neighboring estate where she’d sought refuge.
“Yes, of course not,” Sirena said. “In times of war, there is plenty of blame to spread about.”
It was a comfortable fiction, this not blaming Shaldon. For now.
Bakeley drovethe gray gelding through the morning fog, finally reining up to avoid a group of riders. He did not exchange greetings. He did not wish to converse this morning.
He’d had a night of sheer boredom, followed by an hour or two of dreams of a blonde siren. Sirena. How aptly she’d been named.
Charley had met up with him in the wee hours, plaguing him with speculation about whether Sirena could be a prospect for an affair of the heart, wondering where a lady’s companion who was herself a lady fit into the spectrum of eligible women.
It had taxed Bakeley’s carefully nurtured aplomb until he’d wanted to whack Charley, like they were boys again. He’d reminded Charley that swiving such a woman would move her into the ranks of the demimonde in one fell, well,stroke. He reminded him that a gentleman did not go about seducing the daughters of other gentlemen, and most especially not the daughters of peers.
Charley had looked at him, stunned, and laughed. And laughed some more. Club rules or no, even under a heavy lid of boredom, he’d come a hair’s breadth from pummeling his younger brother.
“I’ll yield the field then, brother,” Charley had said.
Fortunately, two sods who were friends of Charley joined them, eager to discuss horseflesh.
Unfortunately, failure to discuss the woman in question meant that all of her secrets were still buried.
Never mind. Perry was paying Lady Jane a formal call today to deliver the musicale invitation. He would accompany her.
As the sun lifted the layers of fog, Bakeley headed for the park gate.
On the street outside he spotted a trim woman in the distance, her basket held close. She turned her head at the crossing, and a spray of golden curls peeked out from her bonnet.
