The sisters exchanged a look of silent communication that only sisters could—and these two in particular.
In short, they were rumored to be a handful.
First, they were gorgeous. Tall and fair of hair—one more blonde, the other more red—the sisters were possessed of the sort of beauty that would attract every eligible lord within the shores of the British Isles.
But it was the specific glint in their eyes that hinted at the trouble they were—intelligent, observant, and fearless. A combination of qualities within two ladies of privilege that would have to be carefully managed.
Lady Saskia was the first to speak. “Society is a different way of life than we have been accustomed to.” Her voice kept within the bounds of careful neutrality. “It’s somewhat interesting.”
“What Saskia means,” said Lady Viveca, as if her sister’s words needed clarifying, “is that, actually, society isn’t interesting in the least, which is ironically the most interesting thing about it.” She shook her head in wonder. “I mean, how can anyone possibly beinterestedin changing one’s clothing five times a day?”
Lady Saskia nodded, warming to the subject. “Not to mention all the fittings one must endure to have that many dresses in one’s wardrobe.”
“Not interesting,” reiterated Lady Viveca.
Well.
How was that for honesty?
Mrs. Fairfax smiled like a proud, indulgent mama bird watching her chicks fly.
Beatrix snorted.
“What does interest you?” Artemis wasn’t asking out of mere politeness. Whatdidinterest these beautiful, unusual young ladies?
“Books,” they replied in unison. “And plays,” added Lady Saskia.
Artemis felt her brow lift. “Oh?”
“We’re in the process of establishing a circulating library,” said Lady Saskia.
“Sirens Circulating Library,” Lady Viveca cut in. “It will be open before the end of the year.”
Lady Saskia pulled a small pencil and journal from her reticule. “You shall each receive an invitation to the opening night party.” Presumably, she was adding their names to the guest list.
“I look forward to it,” said Beatrix.
“Are you a reader, Lady Beatrix?” asked Lady Viveca.
“I am.”
“Novels?” asked Lady Saskia.
“Mostly.”
“Then you shall be pleased to know that our Sirens Publishing imprint will commence next year with original novels.”
“How wonderful,” said Artemis.
And it was.
These young ladies certainly had sturdy heads on their shoulders, which came as no surprise given their older siblings, the Duke of Acaster and Lady Ormonde, had established London’s most exclusive gaming hell, The Archangel, when they’d merely been Gabriel and Tessa Siren. One had to have both brains and daring to make a success of any venture, and the two young ladies before her hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
“Who isthatman?” asked Lady Viveca, pointing at a figure on the opposite side of the stand—a tall young manostentatiously dressed in an emerald-green velvet jacket and trousers. Even his top hat was emerald-green velvet.
“That,” said Mrs. Fairfax, “is Mr. Blaze Jagger.”
“The same Blaze Jagger that Gabriel and Tessa sold a controlling share of The Archangel to?” asked Lady Saskia.
