Yawning broadly, Jenna descended the stairs and went into the drawing room to await Stuart’s arrival. Taking care not to wrinkle the pale green silk gown, she settled onto the settee, sitting forward so her hair wouldn’t be mussed. She fingered the locket she’d made a point to wear and settled it between her breasts.
She glanced at the doorway as Sebastian and Quinn strode in. Sebastian stopped to pour himself a drink before continuing over to sit beside Jenna.
“How are you faring today?”
She smiled at him. “I am well. A little too much excitement for one evening, but no one was harmed.”
His cobalt eyes stared penetratingly at her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes of course. Though I daresay I have no desire to return to the opera anytime soon.” She patted his leg in a reassuring gesture and cast a glance over at Quinn. “I don’t suppose you’d like to attend Lady Westlake’s musicale with Stuart and I this evening.”
His head shot up. “Egads no!”
She chuckled at the panicked look on his face. “I was only jesting. Perhaps I could cajole Sebastian into attending in your stead.”
“Not bloody likely,” Sebastian muttered, leaning back against the settee. “I’ve crossed paths with Lady Lucretia in the past and have no desire to do so again.”
Jenna quirked an eyebrow. “When was this?”
He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “I was unfortunate enough to be cornered by Lady Lucretia last season. She damn near talked my ears off.”
“And you didn’t succumb to her considerable charms?” Quinn asked in mock disbelief. “I am shocked that you didn’t immediately set out for Gretna Green.”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this, brother dear. But you are not as amusing as you’d like to believe,” Sebastian said dryly.
“On the contrary, Jenna finds me quite amusing, don’t you Jenna?”
She laughed. “Indeed, very much so.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Well you may give Lady Lucretia my regards as I have no intention of walking into the lion’s den.”
“Don’t give her anything from me,” Quinn quickly spoke up. “I’d hate to give her the wrong impression.”
“On second thought,” Sebastian said with a grin.
“Mr. Eglin,” Thomas announced from the doorway.
They all turned as Stuart swept into the room. Jenna’s jaw dropped as she took in his attire. It was as if King Henry VIII had entered the drawing room.
He was wearing an ornately decorated tunic, a sash cinching the waist. A heavy, ruby jacket with a white, fur-lined lapel hung loosely over his shoulders, falling evenly to his knees. His legs were encased in white stockings, and the edge of his breeches, which just covered his kneecaps, peeked from underneath the hem of the tunic.
A large, jewel encrusted necklace lay over his shoulders like a mantle. Underneath, a heavy gold medallion, much too large for his bearing, hung down his chest.
Dear heavens, it was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he’d beheaded anyone of late.
Her brothers were equally stunned. Sebastian cleared his throat repeatedly as if summoning just the right words to say. Quinn’s lips twitched suspiciously as he worked to keep a straight face.
Finally Jenna drew in a deep breath and made her way over to Stuart, hands outstretched. “It is lovely as always to see you, Stuart.”
He grasped her palms enthusiastically and proceeded to plant kisses on the lace overlay of her gloves. “Jenna, my dear. I do hope you have sufficiently recovered from your most trying experience last eve.”
“I have,” she murmured, withdrawing her hands from his. “Do sit down.” She looked up at Sebastian. “Would you be so kind as to pour Stuart a drink?”
“Oh nothing for me,” Stuart said as he flounced over to take a seat. “I’ve no tolerance for spirits, I’m afraid. The last time had me a trifle disguised, and I only had a spot of Father’s port.” He waved a hand in the air and sniffed daintily. “I vowed never to consume anything stronger than tea. I daresay even lemonade might drive me straight to my bed.”
Quinn regarded Stuart with ill-disguised disgust then pinched his lips together. Jenna shot him a warning glance. It wouldn’t do for Quinn to insult Stuart. Not with Papa gone. The viscount would be furious.
“I do believe we should be going,” she announced. “We wouldn’t want to be late for the musicale and risk not getting a seat.” She cast an amused glance at her brothers and winked at them.
