Page 10 of The Viscount's Seduction
The carriage stopped. Shaldon jumped out, far too spryly, leaving Bakeley to ponder.
“To St. John’s Wood, sir?” the coachman asked.
St. John’s Wood was where the dowager Lady Arbrough had settled into a gilded new townhouse. She would greet him with supper, and perhaps a clinging negligee, and after both appetites were quenched she would peck him to death about the Hackwell ball. There would be sly innuendos about gauche country girls and unfashionable bluestockings, and there would be the lateston-ditabout someone’s daughter marrying in haste.
“White’s tonight.”
“Very well, milord.” The door shut. He settled back, closed his eyes, and conjured a vision of his mistress naked. Nothing.
Hell. He’d only just turned two and thirty. Was he losing his virility already?
Outside, a blonde-haired whore stood close by a building, and his mind went directly to a vision of Lady Sirena in her blue dress.
He smiled. The problem was not with him. It was merely time to part company with Lady Arbrough.
And pursue Lady Sirena. Though he didn’t pursue virgins. That was a sure way to get leg-shackled, and he wasn’t one of those villains who seduced a girl and abandoned her to her fate. He didn’t even flirt or raise expectations.
Which meant that Lady Sirena really was unsuitable, though perhaps not in the way his father meant.
Unless he married her.
Oh, hell, what was he thinking?
Brandy was what he needed. Lots of it.
“We have had a social victory, Barton.” Lady Jane handed the faithful maid her wrap. “Lady Sirena danced with five gentlemen, including the heir to the Earl of Shaldon. And we are invited to a musicale at Shaldon House next week.”
“That is wonderful, my lady.”
“Yes. He is quite handsome. So many prefer the younger brother with his fairer coloring and carefree nature, but I do believe the older one is more to my taste. What say you, Sirena?”
“I won’t compare. They’re equally handsome. But Barton, her ladyship spent time in conversation with the handsome men’s father, who I believe very much resembles the son more to Lady Jane’s taste. Sat right next to him, she did, and made him remember that he met her years ago. And he’s still not half bad to look at.”
Lady Jane’s face grew serious, belying the blush coloring her cheeks.
“He was great friends with my beau and my brother.”
Lady Jane had once had a chance to marry a cavalry officer who’d died without ever setting foot into battle, and her brother with him.
Blast it. She’d stirred a bad memory. She ran her hands over her mistress’s dress, smoothing it, and folding it into the clothes press. “He’s widowed. Perhaps—”
“Such foolishness.” With Barton’s assistance, Lady Jane slipped on her nightrail, and the maid left. “Old spinsters don’t marry. It wreaks havoc with settlements and inheritances, and even widowed lords want to breed more spares. You, on the other hand, will find a husband this season if it’s the last thing I accomplish on this earth.” She knotted the belt on her robe. “But, Sirena, my dear, you mustn’t set your cap at one of Shaldon’s sons. Especially not the heir. I’m afraid the younger one is wild, and the older is, well, he’s the heir. He’ll be expected to marry...oh, I’m muddling this. You know I esteem you above all of the silly girls we’ll meet this season—”
If we receive invitations.
“But you’re lacking a dowry, and Shaldon will insure his son marries great wealth, as he did himself. She was a lovely woman, his wife. I was acquainted with her as well, though I was much younger, of course. Her grandfather had an interest in one of the big banks and settled her well.” She reached for Sirena’s hand. “There now, you don’t have wealth, but you do have great beauty and the pleasantest of demeanors, and youarean earl’s daughter, and that will count for something.”
Barton returned with a steaming chocolate pot. She poured a cup for each of them and then gathered up Lady Jane’s discarded undergarments. “Is there aught else, my lady?”
Lady Jane sent Barton off with a goodnight.
Sirena lifted the cup and sniffed. Celebrating with chocolate was a great indulgence, given Lady Jane’s straitened budget, and Sirena was grateful for it. “Why would I want to give up a cozy talk and fine chocolate for marriage? And anyway, do you think a daughter of Ireland can find a husband here among these English, my lady?”
“You are a daughter of the United Kingdoms of Great Britain and Ireland.” Lady Jane sounded fierce. “Never forget that.”
How could she? Her brother had disappeared fighting against that union and the bloody aristocrats who enforced their intolerance on the people of Ireland.
She fixed a smile on her face. “To be sure. And I am a Protestant to boot, and not one of those Latin-spouting Catholics.”
