Page 35 of Rakes & Reticules
Siobhan knew that detail.
Darius and Cassius had visited in May.
“Eat, Siobhan.” Fletcher swept long fingers toward her plate. “You’re far too thin.”
A retort sprang to her lips, but instead of scolding him, she grinned and speared a carrot with her fork. Shewastoo thin, and the realization she could eat her fill made her almost giddy. No more going without and saving food for the children.
“You’d better be careful, Fletcher. I’ll be plump as a partridge in a trice.”
He returned her smile, which also made her realize, to her consternation, that she liked him.
Reallyliked him.
Clearing her throat, Siobhan asked, “When does this plan get put into motion, Fletcher?”
“In a week. It will give us time to prepare you.” He cut her a sidelong glance. “If you’re feeling fully recovered.”
She nodded. “I am quite well now.”
Though her curiosity demanded she ask what her new position would be, Siobhan decided prudence required restraint. She’d already pushed her luck by refusing to allow the children to be involved.
She bit into a tender, herb-seasoned bite of chicken.
Scrumptious.
Yes, she could become accustomed to this life.
“What, precisely, is my role in this plan of yours?” she asked.
Fletcher skewed his mouth to the side. “You will keep Lord Huxley entertained, plying him with drink and compliments, flirting and making yourself agreeable, while I do the same with his wife.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
Still seated at the table in Siobhan’s bedchamber
Fletcher squelched the chuckle rising to his throat at Siobhan’s flabbergasted expression.
“But…but I do not know how to flirt,” she blurted before flicking a hand up and down before her. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the epitome of alluring femininity.”
Her honesty and lack of effect charmed Fletcher despite his week-long irritation with her, and he laughed at her protestations, which earned him a fierce glower.
With that mass of midnight hair and eyes so blue they rivaled the ocean at twilight, whether she knew it or not, Siobhan Kenney was a beautiful woman wrapped in a svelte, petite package. This spirited Irish lass reminded him of Primrose McKessick. Both small, vivacious women, they possessed initiative, courage, and tenacity.
“Granted, you’re not curvaceous.” Probably because she hadn’t had enough to eat in ages.
Siobhan pulled a face. “Thank you for that ungentlemanly observation. Every woman likes to know she’s lacking in the areas men find most appealing.”
“Uh, uh. Don’t get your feathers ruffled. Let me finish.” Fletcher held up a staying finger. “Trust me when I tell you that menshallfind you alluring.” He wiggled his eyebrows and lowered his voice to a seductive purr. “Even I find you quite tempting in an adorable weak kitten way.”
“Go away outta that.” Pink tinged her cheeks, and she snorted. “You’re jesting, for sure.”
Not entirely, and it was as much a revelation to Fletcher as her.
“I am not.” He canted his head toward the bundles atop her bed. “Those boxes contain the finest gowns, slippers, fallals, and accouterments that money can buy. Your hair arranged in the current fashion, a touch of cosmetics, a dab of perfume, and adorned with jewelry, you’ll have gentlemen lined up for the opportunity to make your acquaintance and dance.”
“Um, I don’t know how to dance.” She made a comical face. “Unless Irish jigs count.”
“Hmm, I hadn’t considered that.” He shook his head. “It’s of no consequence. I’ve never seen Huxley take to the floor. Bad knee or ankle, I believe.” Mayhap gout. “He prefers the gaming tables.”
