Page 47 of The Viscount's Seduction
Chapter 12
It was longafter midnight when Sirena heard a knock at her door and rose from the chaise where she was reclining. She’d washed and changed into the fresh chemise and dress Jenny had brought, and had started another letter to Lady Jane, which she tore up and threw into the fire. She’d even dozed for a bit at Jenny’s urgings.
Bakeley stood in the doorway, looking fresh and only a little fatigued. “The wagon is here. Do you want to say goodbye?”
“Yes.”
At the door to the bedchamber where Walter and Josh were still resting, she gripped his arm. “May I have a few moments alone, or will you be insisting on making your presence known?”
“We are betrothed, Sirena. We’ll do this together.”
She sighed as loudly as possible so he would know her displeasure. What she had to say—that she would write to their mother as soon as she was able, that they should tell her if they’d heard any more of her brother—she wished to say none of that with Bakeley around.
The O’Brians were in danger because of her, and what did she truly know of their comings and goings? She’d had to take them at their word, much as she was taking Bakeley.
Walter rose when she entered the room. Both men wore fresh clothing and had washed. Poor Josh had a bandage around his head, and his jaw had sprouted a whole goose egg.
Because of her. “Please sit down, er, Michael.” She pulled a purse from her pocket. “I want you to have this. It’ll tide you over. And I’m more than sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you.”
Walter looked at the purse she’d placed in his hand. He looked at a spot over her shoulder. “His lordship has already given me coins. I can’t take it, milady.”
“You must. This is my money I’ve saved.”
“His lordship said you’d be wedding.”
“I’m not wedded yet. Please do take it, my small compensation for all the harm I’ve caused. If you had not been there...”
“Mam would skin us alive if we’d let you go to the docks by yourself, Lady Sirena. You know she would. No, Josh and I, we’ve talked. We’re going home, and the devil take his lordship. Better to hang than to live on the run.”
He’d slipped and called his brother Josh. “Michael—”
“No, milady. Your lordship here knows our true names,” Walter said.
Bakeley nodded.
“An’ he’s not the lord causing trouble. That would be your cousin, milady.”
“Accushed ush of poaching,” Josh said.
She looked from one to the other. They’d often poached—her father had turned a blind eye to it, generally, as he’d had so little money to make the tenants’ lots better. No doubt they were guilty.
“Once you left, Mam was starving.”
Anger burned through her, flashes of light behind her eyes shooting tension all the way to her fists. She wanted to punch someone, stomp on something.
Damn him. Damn this new Glenmorrow who wanted nothing more than to rape his Irish estate and all the people upon it. Damn the English for driving her brother away. Damn her father for his drinking and spendthrift ways. And her brother...
No. If Jamie lived, he was all she had.
Grief followed the anger. If Jamie Hollister lived, there was naught they could do for their family home or the people who lived there. This new Glenmorrow was firmly ensconced. Finding her brother was for her. It would do their people no good.
And it would do Jamie no good if she found him and he was snatched up by Shaldon, tried for treason and hanged.
“We’ve told your lord here you were looking to meet a man on the docks about your brother. I’m sorry my lady, but lies do not come easy and we’ve had our fill of ’em.”
She took his hand and closed it around the purse. “At least give this to your mother if you won’t take it for yourself. Tell her I think of her every day.”
He nodded. “All right then. For Mam.”
