Page 27 of The Viscount's Seduction
“Denholm, she’s a lovely young girl, but still a girl. She needs some seasoning, a year making her way through theton. Let us all understand one another—I am not going to marry her.”
“Wife won’t like it. She wants her girls married off in their first season like she was, to the best catch. We can agree to a long engagement.”
“No, Lord Denholm.”
His eyes wheedled. “Ah. You’ve been snared. Lady Arbrough has set her cap.”
His head felt like it was gripped in a vise. “No. However, I did hear about a stallion coming up on the market down in Kent. Descended from the Darley Arabian, they say. You were in need of a stud, were you not?”
Denholm was soundly diverted. They talked through another drink about horses and racing, giving Sirena plenty of time to escape. Shaldon observed in his quietly menacing way, and then they all returned together.
At the door of the music room, Denholm left them to find another drink. The music had stopped and the guests were mingling.
“You have dodged for the last time,” Shaldon said. “Youwillmarry.”
“Or?”
His father actually sighed. Another fake sigh, because there wasn’t much he could threaten him with. The estate was entailed, and his mother’s settlements had provided generous portions for all her children, even the heir.
“I should like to bounce the next Viscount Bakeley on my knee before I die.”
Perry smiled at him over her shoulder and pivoted to reveal Lady Sirena, whose smile disappeared when she saw him.
“Denholm, Father? What were you thinking?”
“You would have the damned horses in common. And his money is not soiled by war profits.”
And he is not Irish. “Yes, well, I’m done with the war profits.” He strode away before his father could add a snide remark.
He must make a trip to the jewelers tomorrow.
Sirena sat very stillon the coach ride home. Her head no longer hurt, but her insides felt filled with bubbles. Excitement trembled within her, and why, she couldn’t tell, except that all she could think of was the feel of Lord Bakeley’s warm hand resting upon her bottom and his whispered promise that he would call on her tomorrow.
And why would he promise that? She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want this troublesome lord interfering. She needed to find out about Jamie.
And she couldn’t share any of it with anyone, not Lady Jane, nor Lord and Lady Hackwell. All of them conversed, and she pretended to listen, but heard not a word.
“Sirena, are you still unwell?” Lady Hackwell asked.
“I’m better. Only a little fatigued. London is so very exciting after Dublin.”
“You must sleep late tomorrow,” Lady Jane said. “None of this running off to the market.”
“A good night’s rest will set me straight, and you shall have your warm bread, my lady.”
The Hackwells exchanged a glance but said nothing. Thank heavens. Good people they were, and not inclined to pry. A pox on Lord Bakeley’s kisses, his promise to visit. She’d rise early tomorrow, as usual. Walter and his brother were bringing a man to meet her. It had taken all of her persuasion and most of her meager funds to arrange it, for this was a man well and truly on the run, much more so than the O’Brians.
Early the next morning, Sirena saw Walter’s tall, lean figure in the shadows of a shop doorway, and he was not alone. The other man moved, and the twist of tension in her stomach relaxed. It was Josh, Walter’s brother.
Walter tipped his hat to her. “We’ll both be going along with ye, milady. He’ll not come here. And we must go to him, and not a good place neither.”
That hadn’t been the plan.
“I mustn’t be gone long. How far is it?”
“The East End, milady, near the docks. A place called the Sign of the Bull. Faster, if we can hire a carriage.”
She thought of the coins tucked away in her pocket alongside her gram’s good luck charm, the quaternary knot. She’d brought it along just in case…well, it was the only identifying thing she had of her brother.
