Page 20 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

Chapter Five

Only once her father felt thoroughly spoiled as well as exhausted by being the center of attention did Sybil excuse herself. She was itching to see if Priya had made any progress with the betting book. To see if her impulsive actions were worth the humiliation she had set herself up for.

Breakfast had not been reassuring on that end.

The Willoughby ball was one of the most anticipated events of the winter. Lord Willoughby could not compete with her mother, of course, who filled the garden with fire eaters, or Lady Cartwright, who had once suspended delicate nets of rose petals from the ceiling to release onto the dancers below during a waltz. But Lord Willoughby had a chef who inspired duels over a roasted duck recipe, as well as a wine cellar that princes wept over.

Everyone would be there. Invitations were fought over, stolen from the best of friends, bought with gifts that arrived well before the Season.

The gossips would swarm.

And Sybil was going to offer herself up as the main course.

She groaned under her breath and quickened her step. She had decided not to wait for the carriage. The air was crisp, and the faintest trace of hoarfrost glittered on windows and lampposts. She was impatient to be away, to be doing something.

Something that did not involve humiliating herself.

Walking all the way to Spinster House was not much, but it was a start. She caught the occasional glance thrown her way, but whether it was because of the growing rumors or because she was marching like a soldier to battle was unclear.

It felt familiar.

It felt very much like someone was following her.

She did not alter her pace or turn her head, though she dearly wanted to. She knew better than that. Just as she did not turn onto the street where Spinster House waited. Instead, she walked past it, chose the next turn, and went into Hyde Park. After the last few months, the Spinsters had set up new ways into the house.

Just in case.

She was not the first to be followed and was unlikely to be the last.

The back of her neck prickled. She wanted to spin on her heel and throw a punch. Alas, even a covert glance showed nothing out of the ordinary. She could be imagining it. Either way, if there was someone out there, he was not close enough for her to do any damage.

Which was no fun at all.

She turned onto a path grown over with yews and juniper, still green despite the weather. Sybil had a sneaking suspicion that Priya had planted the blackberry brambles herself to add cover all the year round. A few steps back and Sybil would be at the gate to the house’s back garden, also hung with holly to discourage approach.

Instead, she waited for a moment, and another, tucked safely in the copse, the edge of Hyde Park stretched out before her. Yellowed fields glittered under the weak sunshine with meandering paths where couples walked arm in arm, nannies pushed prams, children ran with their dogs. No one lurked with obvious menace. Nor even with stealthy menace, if she was truthful.

No one was following her. She was being a goose. Her brain was quite sure of that. The prickles at the back of her neck took a little longer to be convinced.

With a shake of her head, Sybil pushed through the greenery and used her key to unlock the secret garden gate. She passed the greenhouses, stuffed with orchids and lemon trees and more plants than she could ever hope to name. The back door was unlocked, though a footman appeared the moment she stepped inside. Sybil grinned at him. “At ease, soldier.”

Footman was a bit of a misnomer. For one thing, most footmen wore wigs or livery. They did not carry knives about their person. But at Spinster House, things were different.

Naturally.

The lady of the house knew more than a dozen plants to poison your tea. The ballroom was more of an obstacle course. The scullery maid had once stolen a pet bear she did not think was being treated well enough. And Pierce Gallagher, formerly of the Royal Navy and Priya’s paramour, had infiltrated the household staff with his own men to guard the house.

“Miss Taunton.” The footman nodded to her. “Lady Priya is in the family parlor.”

“She’s expecting me, is she?”

“Sybil, is that you?” Peony called down from the staircase landing. “Hurry up!”

Sybil tossed her cloak over a chair and went to join her friend.

“Why did you come in the back way?” Peony asked when Sybil joined her.

“Just keeping in practice,” Sybil said. If she admitted she thought she was being followed when she was not, someone would tell her to rest more, and then she would have to bite them. This was safer all around.