Siren's Song Read online

  “Besotted?” Stonewood questioned.

  “In love!” Stephen corrected passionately, looking highly offended.

  “Besotted,” Alex repeated as if his response confirmed it. “And you are too young.”

  “My lord, I will be eighteen soon—”

  “That old?” Stonewood acted impressed.

  “Yes, my lord, eighteen. And I will, at that time, come into my inheritance. I can give Emma anything she desires and would do so happily, with your permission that is.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Alex had to give the earl credit. He looked as if he seriously considered Stephen’s offer before answering diplomatically. He was also much more likeable than she thought he would be.

  “I’m afraid, Stephen, that I have recently learned Emma has plans of her own and I cannot commit to an engagement without consulting her first as to the nature of her feelings.”

  Stephen sighed deeply then flung himself dejectedly into a chair. “Rejection again.”

  Stonewood raised a brow to Alex, who just smiled at her lovelorn sibling, then mouthed the word, besotted back at him. The earl grinned.

  “Alas, she has turned me down several times already,” Stephen confessed with another heartfelt but exaggerated sigh. “To be loved as a brother. Was there ever a more woeful curse?”

  Alex turned to leave. “Do join us, Stephen, once you have recovered.”

  “I shall, but though I smile, my heart will be breaking.”

  Stephen changed the subject and told of one of Alex’s mishaps on the way to London their first day in England. By the time he finished telling his side of the story, Alex was laughing as well.

  “Were you my sister, Miss Stafford, I would be constantly filled with worry over your misadventures,” Stonewood confessed.

  “Don’t worry too much, my lord. My family has the ability to turn a walk home into a story of legendary proportions. It is how we entertained ourselves growing up. I promise you, I am very careful.” She added, “And I would never put Emma in any danger.”

  Marcus didn’t think she would do it deliberately, but she was still young regardless of her experiences. He would keep that to himself. They followed the others at a short distance, strolling the gardens, and he brought up the subject of her aunt’s estate. He was surprised at her thorough knowledge of agriculture, though she claimed it was new to her.

  “I have a wonderful book that teaches the basics,” Miss Stafford explained. “Emma was able to fill the rest of the gaps in my knowledge. She is very adept at running an estate, as I am sure you know already.”

  Marcus wasn’t sure, but nodded politely. He couldn’t deny that Emma had a talent for organization.

  “And how is it you acquired such a talent with locks?”

  “Locks?” Miss Stafford asked, feigning ignorance.

  “Door locks, to be specific.” Marcus smiled blandly.

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Yes, I’d say so. It doesn’t bode well for your character, Miss Stafford.” He was teasing, but she looked painfully contrite. He thought any apology on her behalf would be torturous. She bent her head in humble submission. It was entirely at odds with the mischief she had in her eyes.

  “I beg you to forgive me, my lord. It is the result of trying to live with two older, ugly, mean brothers. They continually locked me in my room as a child. I used to climb upon the tree branch near my window to escape, but then they cut down all the branches on that side of the tree. It was an odd sight I assure you.”

  “So you found another way out?”

  “Yes. ’Twas the beginning of a whole new career. Samuel and Matthew found me most useful after that.”

  “The mean, older brothers?”

  “Don’t forget ugly.”

  “Of course not, it’s their most endearing quality,” Marcus said.

  “I have passed my talent on to Stephen, but the others are undeserving.”

  “No doubt.”

  “I am very sorry about the, uh, disturbance, my lord. I truly thought someone might be up to mischief.”

  “Um-hmm.” She looked sincere, but Marcus suspected she was the cause of more mischief they had yet to discover. The silence spilled over a bit.

  “I can see this is very difficult for you, Miss Stafford.”

  “Yes, my lord, humility is always a painful pill for a Stafford, especially in front of an Englishman.”

  Marcus grinned. Langley was right. The girl was completely incorrigible.

  “And then there is the fact that Emma was on your ship for a number of voyages.”

  “Oh, dear. Am I to get the full lecture then?”

  Marcus balked in surprise. “Lecture?”

  “Yes, on safety and women being unable to protect themselves, and that we have no idea about the unimaginable dangers that could befall us.”

  He was on the defense now. “You must understand that I worry about the very idea of Emma traveling so freely without protection. And,” he added, “she is very different since I returned.”

  “She is a woman with ideas and desires and needs of her own, my lord. In some cultures that is valued.”

  Marcus lifted a questioning brow, waiting for her to name one.

  “Trust me,” she smiled. “There is at least one.”

  “Regardless, those things are not always practical.”

  “Not practical when found in a woman?” Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut when it had been going so well?

  Marcus answered, “Less practical in a woman.”

  “Sometimes, all I see is that practical behavior prevents one from living properly. Our time may not be long on this earth. I surely do not want my epitaph to read, ‘She led a practical life.’ It is much too deserving of death.”

  “I see we could debate this for hours.”

  “Yes, I’m certain we could. I have enjoyed our visit, though, my lord. You are not nearly as stuffy as I thought you would be,” she confessed.

  “Who said I was stuffy?”

  “Oh, just the way Langley described you, the proper English gentleman and all. It must get quite dull for you.”

  “I’m plagued by dullness, Miss Stafford,” he said.

  She laughed at that. “You make me miss my horrible brothers, my lord … though with you I needn’t worry about getting strong-armed aside if I disagree. They are merciless, I assure you.”

  He studied her freely a moment, her attention caught by Lady Margaret, who was laughing at something Worthington was saying. She was beautiful, without doubt, and in a way that was entirely natural. For all the experience she had in business and sailing, there was something guileless about her. And when she watched her family, he saw a yearning to take part. As if she wasn’t quite part of it. Which was strange.

  “Your brothers?” Marcus said, wounded. “It has been a long time since I have been compared to such a lot. Ugly, mean, American ones at that. I thought I was well past Stephen’s woes. Perhaps I am losing my touch.”

  He watched as the American blushed prettily at the unexpected flirtation, but covered it with bravado. “I assure, my lord, such is not the case. But in truth, I think you may have a penchant for blondes.”

  “Ummm.” Marcus neither confirmed, nor denied. “And you, Miss Stafford? Do you favor blonds?”

  “I have no interest in any man, my lord. Stafford Shipping promises to keep me very busy for the moment, and there are …” She shrugged delicately, fading off as she watched her brother. He had tricked Worthington into giving up his seat on a bench next to Emma, only to take it himself. She smiled at his antics, but worry unconsciously showed behind the polite reply she gave him. “I have enough to think about already.”

  Marcus rather thought she did. A shadow had crossed over her that was entirely not right. Whatever the problems, her brothers should be handling it. He thought she was taking too much on herself. She was the type to do that no doubt. Overprotective, he added to himself before realizing how similar they were. Unfor
tunately, all those things did not necessarily add up to a good companion for Emma. He guessed Miss Stafford’s life had much too much drama.

  Joshua watched them and had seen the change of expression as well. It was much like the one earlier when they first came upon Miss Stafford in the study. He walked over to his friend and disengaged Marcus’s arm skillfully from Miss Stafford before she could resist.

  “I’ve come to save you from boredom, Miss Stafford.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Josh. Miss Stafford has already informed me I am not nearly as dull as she expected.”

  Joshua grinned delightedly at that. “Best to leave now then, friend, while you’ve still made a good impression.” Joshua guided her away from the group to a nearby path through the roses. To her credit, she resisted as politely as possible the entire way until he had her out of earshot of the others. Then she scowled at him fiercely. He thought himself rather devilish for enjoying it so much.

  “I have no desire to be alone with you.”

  “We are not alone, Miss Stafford. Even now your aunt is watching us. Do try to look pleasant. I don’t want her to be distressed by your manners.”

  “I don’t want her distressed either. By anything,” Alex clarified. “And my manners are fine. Yours, sir, are appalling.”

  Joshua sighed. “I knew I should have kissed you at the lake. You are going to make it most difficult for me now, aren’t you, my sweet mermaid?” He added that last bit just to bait her. It worked.

  “Don’t call me that! And do not speak of that day, ever,” she whispered furiously. “If you promise that, I will be less difficult.”

  “You will kiss me?”

  “No!”

  “Then you are going to be difficult. You just said you would be less difficult. I begin to doubt your word, Miss Stafford.”

  “You are infuriating. You cannot kiss me.”

  “Don’t you want to be kissed?”

  “No!”

  “Perhaps you prefer the earl …”

  “No!” she said again. “Emma is …”

  “Yes?”

  She paused, gathering herself. “I imagine that someone like Emma would be much more suited for the earl. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes. There. We have something in common it seems.”

  “Highly remarkable.” Alex was sarcastic.

  “And we both like to swim.”

  “I’m warning you …”

  “And we are both sea captains, very unusual that one. Let’s see, we are both well traveled.” He paused thoughtfully. “Have you ever been to Morocco, Miss Stafford?”

  That stopped her.

  “Yes. I did not like it much. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. You remind me of someone. Though she had a way of cursing that was a spectacle to behold. Have you a sister, perchance?”

  “No. And I never swear. It isn’t ladylike.”

  “Of course not. You’re nothing if not ladylike.”

  “Damned right.” Did the man realize he had just insulted her? She caught herself. Did he realize it was her? Did she want him to? That man in Morocco had been gallant and brave and gentle and good-humored. She went over the list of virtues in her head. The duke was not her dream man. He was her nightmare. Best he not realize. Then Stonewood would learn, and any hope of her appearing respectable would vanish faster than an auctioneer could say “sold.”

  It was strange, though. Meeting him again through completely different connections did not seem possible. The world was too big for it. But there was no doubt in her mind it was him. She recognized the essence of him. The power he exuded yet held back. Dislike him she might, but why then did she feel strangely safe? She stared at him, angry, trying to work out the puzzle.

  “Miss Stafford? Miss Stafford, are you okay?” He squeezed her hands, jolting her back to the world.

  She cleared her head, and immediately reclaimed her limbs. “I don’t think I like you much.”

  “I gathered that already.”

  “You are not upset?”

  “What you think has little relevance in this case, Miss Stafford.”

  “I beg your pardon?” She halted again, outraged.

  “You don’t want to like me but you do, despite everything.”

  “Really?” she drawled.

  “Yes,” he responded easily. “What you really don’t like is the fact that you do like me.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do, and you are simply getting the two confused, not wanting to adore me and adoring me.”

  “I’m adoring now? Surely that is stretching it.”

  He ignored her, and continued, “Because to love me …”

  “Love!” She laughed outright at that, actually humored.

  “Because to love me would mean you have to be nice to the man who owns the sprawling mansion you also love and the lake you love to swim in,” he explained with patience, “and who is a bloody, British nobleman to boot.”

  Alex looked him square in the eye. “Yes, I definitely hate you.”

  “Progress already.”

  She walked toward the others, who had made a move to depart. Smiling sweetly, she informed him privately, “You are conceited beyond belief.” She tried to take away the hand he had tucked politely on his arm, but his other hand wrapped over hers firmly in an immovable grip. “And your arrogance is despicable, even in an Englishman,” she spat, nearly pouting as he didn’t adjust his long stride and she was nearly dragged along by him, forced to keep pace.

  “I will see you at the Davenport ball,” he told her.

  “I’m not going. In fact, I leave for London tomorrow.”

  Alex’s aunt overheard the comment and questioned her. “Tomorrow? I thought you weren’t going to go until Monday?”

  “Sorry, Aunt Maggie. Something came up. I will be back with all possible haste.”

  “I will escort you,” Worthington stated.

  “No, thank you,” she replied.

  “No thanks needed. The roads are not safe. And I need to order supplies and materials, now that I have had a chance to see the sad condition of the estate.”

  “Oh, thank you, Your Grace,” Maggie said. “I so worry about them. And they are not nearly as familiar with the countryside as you.”

  “The duke has been away for a long time.” Alex was going to add that there was no reason to think he knew the roads better than anyone else. She rephrased after catching her aunt’s disapproving look. “I have Stephen and Birdie. I hate to put the duke to any trouble, especially with such new acquaintance. It’s taking advantage,” Alex finished lamely.

  Worthington bent over her hand in farewell. “No trouble at all, Miss Stafford. It is the least one can do for a neighbor.”

  “How wonderful,” she said, less than enthusiastic. She turned to the earl more easily and curtsied exactly as Emma had taught her. “My lord, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope we will have the honor of your company again very soon.”

  Stonewood smiled readily, clearly humored by her good behavior toward him. It wasn’t her fault the duke was difficult.

  Damn if she was going to curtsey to someone who insisted on stepping in where he didn’t belong. Which made it even stranger when she recognized an unusual twitch of jealousy while watching Worthington solicitously help Emma into the saddle.

  “I will be here tomorrow morning at seven, Miss Stafford.”

  “Ugh!” Stephen complained. “Another early riser.”

  “Seven,” Worthington confirmed, looking her in the eye and waiting for agreement.

  “Umm.” She gave a half nod, followed by a muffled, “Maybe.”

  He grinned and nodded, as if understanding what she said. It made her want to scowl even harder. Damned arrogance of the man.

  Once the visitors had taken leave, Alex took her aunt’s arm and walked with her indoors.

  “I think that went well,” Alex said to her aunt.

  Maggie answered agreeably, “Yes,
dear. You only insulted the duke seven times, and all things British, let me see …” She counted in her head. “Yes. Three times. Then of course there was the exposing of your ankles. But who could recall that accidental faux pas amidst so many other well-chosen ones. Of course, I’m not counting all the indiscretions you might have muttered while alone with the duke, but I trust you were all that is genteel and amiable. Yes, indeed. All in all, quite a morning’s achievement. You must be starved for lunch.”

  “Thank you, Aunt. I find I am quite ravenous.” Alex took the ribbing with good humor.

  “Eat up. You shall need your strength to deal with Joshua Leigh, Duke of Worthington. On that I can be sure.”

  “Huh! We’ll see.” She planned to defy him if it was the last thing she did.

  Unfortunately, she was now counting the hours to when she could do just that.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alex stamped another document with unusual force.

  The day had not gone as planned.

  Seated at her desk in the offices of Stafford Shipping, she was having more than a little trouble focusing on trade orders and tariffs. It wasn’t that she minded the duke besting her. She was simply tired. She’d had another restless night. So what if the duke had been waiting for her at six thirty when she snuck out? And she certainly didn’t mind that he only spoke to the men the entire ride. He was obviously trying to get at her.

  It was working.

  Stamp.

  She tore the paper. Damn. That was a little too vicious.

  It was just that his behavior made her dislike him even more, and she was trying to like him for the sake of her aunt. Yes, that was right. But he was so polite she wanted to scream. It had been a relief to come to the office while the men went off to the Crow’s Nest for refreshment and ale. She had hoped they would continue to town without her, but Worthington was nothing if not dedicated to his duty—which apparently meant her protection. Irritating … and comforting.

  She slammed another stamp on a transaction and smiled, this time reading the purchase. Ah. Now this was a good deal. Dynamite. They were going to sail early in the morn to Dover and make a handy profit reselling it. And she’d keep a little for herself. It was always nice to have at least one sparkly accessory that went with everything. Hadn’t Aunt Maggie said that?