The Viscount's Seduction: A Regency Romance (Sons of the Spy Lord Book 2)

by Alina K. Field

He would want her tonight. That was clear.

  He plunged a hand into her bodice and flipped the fabric down, freeing her breast, and then stopped to watch his finger make swirls around the bud of her nipple.

  Pleasure shot through her. “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, my,” and, when he bent his head and let his tongue take over, “Oh, Bakeley.”

  She squeezed his shoulder, his arm, the back of his head. More pleasure rippled inside her, wrapping around her heart.

  A knock at the door made him go still.

  A male throat cleared, the sound muffled by the heavy wooden door. “It’s Bink.”

  Bakeley tucked her breast in and arranged her dress, his face such a grim mask she had to laugh.

  “Caught in the act. Does he know your intentions?”

  He grinned. “Yes. He wouldn’t have left you alone with me otherwise.”

  Her heart lifted that someone who knew nothing of her should care. “Truly? Who else knows?”

  “Lady Jane. I asked for her blessing.” He searched her eyes. “Do you mind that I spoke to her?”

  Lady Jane stood as the closest thing to family for her. Her eyes started to water. “Did she give it?”

  “Yes, but not right away.”

  “I’m coming in.” Mr. Gibson rattled the door latch.

  Bakeley bade him enter and then turned back to her. “I had to go through a litany of objections with Lady Jane—my father, your nationality, your lack of wealth, your social standing. It was a good rehearsal for my dealings with you.”

  Once again, a throat cleared loudly next to them. When she looked, Mr. Gibson had an amused gleam in his eyes. A bonnie girl in a simple gown stood behind him, holding a large bundle. She bobbed a curtsey, and cast her eyes down, but not before Sirena saw a flash of interest.

  He’d brought her a saucy maid.

  “Lady Sirena, this is Jenny,” Mr. Gibson said. “She’ll be yours as long as you need her.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t. Mrs. Gibson—”

  “It’s no trouble. We have plenty of help. Jenny is blessed with the ability to hold her tongue, and she likes a little adventure now and again.”

  The girl peeked from under her eyelashes and bit back a smile. She couldn’t be more than eighteen. “My mistress has sent along some clofing, miss.”

  The cockney accent was thicker than gruel and made Sirena smile. “How very thoughtful. It’s grateful, I am.”

  Lord Bakeley squeezed the slim hand he was holding. The look on Sirena’s face reflected her gratitude, knit together with kindness toward the maid, and a keen humility. That last they would have to work on if she was to run his household. “I didn’t think to bring any of your things from Lady Jane’s. Thank you, Bink.”

  “It was Paulette’s doing.” His gaze flitted from Bakeley to Sirena. “Have you settled your business then?”

  The pink that tinged her cheeks made him want to grab her and kiss her anew. Yet the night would be a busy one. Best not to get started down that path.

  “Brother, you are the first to know. Lady Sirena has agreed to become my wife.”

  Bink’s approving look was gratifying. From the time he’d first met this brother, his nine-year-old self had looked up to the bigger boy. A by-blow, Bink was, but a man of courage and character also. Not long after Bink’s mother’s death, he’d been shuffled from a cruel stepfather to a cruel headmaster. He’d run away and joined the army, had served in the Peninsular War as a sergeant under Major Steven Beauverde, now the Earl of Hackwell. Upon Bink’s return to England, Bakeley had found him working as Hackwell’s steward.

  Bink’s approval of his choice of a bride meant the world to him. He’d have at least one ally when he faced their father’s disapproval.

  “Welcome to the family, Lady Sirena,” Bink said. “Paulette will be most happy to have another sister.”

  She flushed more deeply. “A sister. I had not thought about that.”

  “A sister and a great burly Irish brother here.” Bakeley kissed her hand. “Why not go with Jenny and see what she’s brought. The housekeeper will have a room ready for you by now. You may rest for a while, and you’ll want to say goodbye to the Smiths when they leave.”

  “All right then.” She turned back to the table and picked up a chain he hadn’t noticed, pocketing it, and led Jenny out.

  When the door shut, Bink’s expression darkened. “Kincaid smells a game afoot. I don’t keep secrets from Paulette, but I did make her promise to conceal it from Kincaid. She’ll do it for the lady’s sake.”

  “Paulette is still angry with me, I take it.” Bakeley had been involved in their father’s scheme to bring Paulette and Bink together.

  Bink laughed heartily. “No more so than with Kincaid, who she’s forgiven. And I don’t think she was ever truly angry.” Bink slapped his back. “Yet it would’ve been so much easier had you at least told us the truth.”

  “Yes, you’re right.” It had been his lone invitation to immerse himself in his father’s gambits, and it had almost got Paulette and Bink killed.

  Shaldon’s retirement had brought him home to England after years of absence, and the man had not really left his games behind, as he’d proven by using Paulette to lure a traitor into the open.

  Well, damn it, Bakeley was done with that. It was time he moved out of Shaldon House and into his own home.

  “Father will find out,” Bakeley said. “I wonder what the reaction will be. Swooning? An icy cut? An attempt to lock Sirena in the cellar?”

  Bink grumbled low in his throat. “I’m going with that wagon tonight. Those boys will make it to my place safely, and I have men who’ll do as I say. Your biggest danger will be at Doctors’ Commons tomorrow.”

  He would visit Doctors’ Commons for the special marriage license first thing in the morning. “I don’t give a damn. I’ll marry the woman of my choosing, even if I have to carry her off to Scotland as you did with Paulette.”

  “That’s a very long trip from London.” Bink poured two glasses of claret. “Here’s to you and your bride and to getting those two Irish boys out from under the wily lord’s nose.”

  “Here, here.” He took the glass. “I’ve been thinking about this, you know. I’ve been thinking that he won’t give me any problems with the special license because he’s up to something.”

  Bink frowned and took a bite of bread. “Casting Lady Sirena as a lure?”

  Anger shot through him. “She was down on that dock looking for information on her brother.”

  “Meeting someone?”

  “I haven’t got to the details yet. Can you get the real story from one of the Smith brothers?”

  Bink snorted. “No doubt Kincaid could.”

  “Can you do it without using his methods?”

  “I’ll try. I can’t stay long at Little Norwick though. I have Parliamentary meetings to deal with before those fools in the Lords come up with another set of Six Acts. And I’ll reckon those boys will want to be off as soon as the one called John can stand up to piss.”

  “Josh.”

  “Eh?”

  “She slipped. One of them is a Josh. The other is Walter.”

  Bink chuckled again and shook his head. “Are you sure about this, Bakeley? This girl will lead you a merry chase, and what do we really know about her?”

  “About the same as you knew about Paulette.”

  “Aye, but Shaldon knew everything about her.”

  “My point exactly.”

  Bink sat down, the better to reach the untouched food and the wine bottle, and poured another drink, rapping his fingers on the table. “He’s the devil, is our father.”

  “The night we met at the ball, the night I led her over to him, the look he gave her was condescending, yes, but it was also a look of...interest. Was he in Ireland then, do you think?”

  Bink stirred in his seat, his eyes glowing, wary. “You think she is his?”

  “No.” The thought sent a chill through him. The dalliance that had produc
ed Bink had occurred in Shaldon’s bachelorhood. As far as anyone knew, their father had been a faithful husband. Bakeley’s mother would still have been alive when Sirena was born. “Mother sent me to Glenmorrow to buy up his best cattle. As if paying a debt. What I mean is, was Shaldon in Ireland around the time her brother fled? It would have been around the very end of the last uprising.”

  “I’ve no idea. This Cato Street business might have somewhat to do with it.”

  “Plots and uprisings,” Bakeley said. “Yes. That would fit with Father’s games. What did you think of the Smith brothers?”

  “Not conspirators, I’d say, unless Sirena is their leader.”

  The idea was absurd. “We must shield those men from father.”

  “Aye. I’ll be leaving in the wee hours. Where will she be when you’re out getting the license?”

  He had thought to leave her here in his townhouse, but Bink was right. The housekeeper and her husband would be no defense if Father showed up and raised a row. Jenny looked tougher than both of them combined. “Would Hackwell help?”

  Bink grinned broadly. “What a scary thought, Bakeley. We’re beginning to think alike. That’s exactly what I was going to suggest. And here,” he handed him the jewelry box, “best give your bride her ring.”

  Chapter 12

  It was long after 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.”

  She wished Josh farewell and a rapid recovery and waited while Bakeley shook their hands. It was a sight for sore eyes, a lord shaking hands with poor Irish men, nothing that her father would have done, nor the new lord of Glenmorrow.

  She was trembling when Bakeley led her downstairs and scarcely noticed him wrapping her in her shawl.

  Jenny appeared, carrying a valise.

  “I’m going with them?” she asked, unease threading through her. Was he sending her away?

  “No. Bink will accompany them. You and I are going to spend the rest of the night as Hackwell’s guests. I’ll be up early and out to Doctors’ Commons. You may help Lady Hackwell plan our wedding breakfast.”

  “May I not go to my own home?”

  “Lady Jane has courage, but if my father decides to interfere with our plans, Hackwell will be a more formidable adversary and a better protector.”

  “But who will protect you?”

  He froze, and then laughed. “Do you know, you have a point. Well, Hackwell has one or two stout footmen with military backgrounds.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “You forgot this earlier.”

  He slipped the sapphire ring on her finger and it twinkled in the light of the servant’s lantern.

  It was a beautiful ring, dainty, the stone perfectly sized for her own small self. She’d forgotten it, but he’d remembered. Bakeley was a determined sort.

  “And here I thought I might let you slip away from the leg shackle, if you had a mind for it,” she said.

  “Not a chance.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “Afraid? Not a chance for that either.” God’s truth, she was terrified, but she must bluster through this.

  She lifted herself up on her toes and kissed him in front of Jenny and the footman holding the door open. “A promise is a promise, Lord Bakeley. If you do not return for me, you shall see how an Irish lady takes her revenge.”

  He leaned in close and whispered, “’Tis lucky for you we have all these servants hovering, else you’d see how an English lord takes his lady.”

  Her heart thumped wildly. “No,” she whispered back. “Not lucky at all.” She squeezed his hand and hurried away before he could see the heat overtaking her.

  “Yes, oh, yes.” Lady Jane clasped her hands together. “Barton has been working on this for days, and we’d meant to surprise you with a new gown, but here you are—you’ve surprised us. A pinch more at the bodice, Barton. Inhale, Sirena. Is this fabric not lovely? This is called gros de naples.”

  The words floated over Sirena while she dutifully obeyed, surveying herself in the mirror. The golden threads of the bodice and overskirt caught the faint light of the dimming day and set the red underskirt afire.

  “Princess Charlotte was marrie
d in a dress of gold,” Lady Jane said.

  Barton removed a pin from her mouth. “Hold still now, my lady. And you’ll have much better luck than the unfortunate princess.”

  The princess had died in childbirth. After all Sirena had been through, that didn’t scare her. To have a child of her own would be worth the risk.

  “Why, yes,” Lady Jane said. “Barton and I will find a good midwife and keep away all of those men with their leeches and knives.”

  “We’re putting the carriage before the horse,” Sirena said. “First the bridegroom must appear with the license and the vicar.”

  Barton plucked at the poufy sleeve caps. “There.” She smiled broadly. “Jenny has done well with your hair.”

  Lady Jane looked her over. “He was head over ears for you in your made-over dresses. He shall swoon when he sees you in this.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Perhaps I shall myself swoon in these stays.” Her breasts threatened to spill over the top of the tight lacing. It was nearly indecent, and a march on Lady Arbrough’s bosom-baring campaign.

  The door opened and Jenny slipped in. “He’s here.”

  She straightened and smoothed her skirts.

  “Wait, Sirena.” Lady Jane flipped up the lid on a slim box and lifted a delicate chain, and she pulled another from her pocket.

  Sirena’s heart pounded fiercely, the drumming resounding in her ears and pushing against her eyes, clouding her vision.

  “I found this box amongst your things, my dear,” Lady Jane said, “and the other was on the night stand. I thought you might want to wear one of them.”

  Queen Brighid’s knot swung gently back and forth, its complicated turns pulling Sirena in, twisting up her heart, pressing on her lungs. Images flashed before her eyes, the knot resting in her gram’s gnarled hand, the knot against Jamie’s broad neck, the knot on the worn carpet at Glenmorrow.

  “Sirena.” A hand clutched her elbow.

  She sucked in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and opened them, glancing at the other dangling item, her mother’s locket.

  At Papa’s death, there’d only been a few items of her mother’s jewelry left, and this one she’d purloined from the Glenmorrow estate, risking a charge of theft by her greedy cousin.