Siren's Song

by Trish Albright

  Alex smiled graciously as her aunt led them through a series of introductions en route to Joshua. With every step, her anticipation increased, eager and excited. Her eyes locked with his a moment before she tore them away and smiled at Emma, reminding herself the main focus of tonight was to be a perfect guest, and impress Emma’s earl—even if it meant she’d starve tonight from an inability to do anything but smile politely in this constrictive dress.

  Stephen clicked his heels and bowed over Emma’s hand, wishing her all the appropriate salutations, albeit with a slightly impish gleam.

  “He’s been practicing all day,” Alex informed her dryly, before turning to Marcus. “My lord, your home looks resplendent tonight. Only Emma outshines it.”

  “Thank you, Miss Stafford. You look simply stunning.” The earl bowed over her hand in a way she found both polite and charming. It put her more at ease. She shared a glance with Emma, and tilted her head to Marcus as if to indicate it was going well so far.

  “She ought to look good. It took her long enough to get ready,” Stephen complained. “I could have sailed to America and back—ouch!” Stephen winced as his sister neatly rapped his hand with a small fan.

  Alex examined the fan as if inspecting for damage, “Hmmph. Now I understand why women carry these. Very handy.”

  The group laughed. Alex looked curiously at the man she did not know and gave him a friendly smile, forcing patience until someone made an introduction.

  “You look magnificent, Miss Stafford.” Joshua finally addressed her, his eyes speaking volumes more than the few words and causing her to suddenly fan herself in an effort to cool off.

  Stephen’s eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to his sister, recognizing the predatory looks. “Keep your distance, gentlemen. My brothers would have locked her up.”

  “I doubt that would help,” Stonewood murmured, making Alex aware that she had not fully won over him after stealing into his study. At the looks from the others he added, “I only mean to say that your sister is very resourceful.”

  Worried at the inappropriate attention, Alex changed the subject. “Your Grace, you completed your business in town? Successfully, I hope?”

  “Indeed. In fact, there is someone I wish you to meet. Only he has not yet arrived.”

  “That’s mysterious.” She wanted to ask more, but he turned to the man she did not know and made the introductions. “May I introduce Colin Weyford, Earl of Merriton.”

  Lord Merriton was charming despite throwing her off balance a bit with his immediate request. “Miss Stafford. It’s a pleasure. I hope I may call on you for a dance later.”

  “Oh. No!”

  All eyes turned to Alex in surprise. Emma gave her an admonishing eye that she thought only Aunt Maggie had mastered. Alex scrambled to correct herself. “I mean, that is, yes. Later. Dancing is such a … healthy activity after all.” She swallowed with horror. Not a great start, but she could recover. Preferably without having to dance later.

  The conversation began to flow again, and Alex was able to relax a moment and simply look at Joshua. He’d cut his hair for the occasion. It made him appear more formidable, and his blue eyes were stark against his freshly shaven, gold skin. She realized too late that she had not been paying attention when he offered to lead her to the dance floor.

  “Oh!” She swore mentally. “No, thank you. That is, we have not had time to greet anyone, and it would be rude to disappear so quickly to the dance floor.” She was dissembling and not very well. She turned to Emma, praying panic was not written on her face. Her friend looked equally worried—whether at Alex’s continued rudeness or fear she would fail her on the dance floor, Alex would never know. Her brother intervened.

  “Certainly, she would love to dance. Alex loves nothing if not a turn around the old dance floor.” Stephen pushed her forward helpfully, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

  Alex thought she would learn what a swoon really was. “Emma,” she entreated, praying for intervention, her voice breathy with alarm.

  Misunderstanding Alex’s concern, the earl invited Emma out to dance, leaving Alex with no recourse but to accept Joshua’s arm. She gripped him, and went reluctantly, her eyes promising revenge on her brother.

  Alex struggled at the edge of the dance floor, as close to panic as she had ever been in her life. Damn. What to do now? She glanced around desperately. Was it her imagination or was everyone staring at them? Not good. Definitely not good. Emma glanced back over her shoulder, and Alex tossed a little wave of the hand that all was well. Right. Thanks for nothing, dear beloved friend. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, daring to lift her head to the duke. Meeting his eyes was a mistake. They were the most beautiful color of indigo. She swallowed painfully, recalling how he had kissed her that very morning. Oh, God. The memory alone made her skin prickle with heat.

  “Ah, your color is coming back. I thought perhaps you regretted being in my company?”

  She could see her reflection in his eyes and his devilish wink did nothing to put her at ease. Discomfort turned to alarm. She decided honesty was her only option. “I don’t really enjoy dancing, Duke.”

  “Truly? Or is it you just don’t know how. That’s fine, of course. Americans are certainly not known for their grace on the dance floor. I can understand you not wanting to embarrass your family name.” He inclined his head to her brother, who had snatched a pretty maiden to join them on the floor. “Though Stephen seems to have a knack for it.”

  Alex sighed. “You are the most damned irritating man I have ever had the misfortune to meet. I know the moves. I just cannot—”

  He pulled her forward. “So you do dance.”

  Alex swallowed painfully. She would disgrace her family for sure. It was one thing to know her failures, another to make them public. She stepped back unconsciously as couples swept by within bare inches of them. A hand went to her upset stomach.

  “No!”

  “It’s not nearly so bad as you think.” He held her hand tighter as she struggled to free it.

  “I can’t!”

  “We have already been seen, we must go through with it. It would be scandalous otherwise.”

  Her dismay increased. Alex prayed he could not feel her tremble as he pulled her deftly into his embrace and into the first turn—into the middle of the floor! She instantly grabbed hold of him in fear, seeking protection from the confusing pattern of bodies twirling about.

  “There you go, my sweet. Step, step, turn.”

  She followed quickly then faced him again. “Don’t call me that.”

  “And one more time, my love,” he instructed.

  “Someone will hear—” Her words were cut off when Joshua expertly swirled her out to the music. She made a desperate attempt to keep her footing as he spun her back to face him.

  “It is appropriate to keep your eyes on your partner … darling,” he teased rakishly. “And now would be a good time to breathe.”

  Alex laughed. She had been holding her breath. She was dancing, she realized. In a real ballroom. She looked around. Astounded.

  It was a mistake.

  All she saw was chaos. She pulled away in panic and missed a step. He caught her more firmly, focusing her attention back on him. “Alex, my love, the guests would doubt your affection for me, should you abandon me on the dance floor with such passion. On the count of eight. And turn and bow.” Joshua led her through the steps.

  “We have no relationship for anyone to ponder, let alone doubt.”

  Joshua ignored her. “Why don’t you give me a smile. Just to be polite.”

  Alex arched a brow.

  “Yes, I know, you’d rather give me a kick.”

  She did smile then, despite herself. “I’m sorry, this dress has squeezed the humor out of me.”

  He glanced wickedly lower, down her dress, and leisurely back up. “Happily, the rest is still intact.”

  Her cheeks pinkened. “Careful, Your Grace. I’m armed.” />
  “As I’ve just noted, Miss Stafford.”

  She gasped, her face getting hotter, while he laughed at her discomfit.

  The dance ended and the music flowed into a slower, sweeping tune. Joshua pulled her closer before she could escape. It would improve her confidence. She didn’t seem so fearful now, though he caught her trying to look beyond him several times, before quickly averting her eyes back to his. It amused him how she kept trying to overcome whatever fear gripped her.

  He knew he should not have kept her for a second dance, but he also was letting everyone know he was staking claim. He gambled he could get away with it. For the moment, his American beauty did not seem to notice or think of it as an impropriety, so he decided not to mention it. He squeezed her hand gently, and it warmed him that he was granted a somewhat shy smile of pleasure from her as he guided her around the floor in a companionable truce.

  Alex surprised herself. This dancing thing wasn’t so bad after all. She moved with more ease around the floor.

  “Alex,” Joshua said softly.

  She met his serious eyes in response.

  “You do look spectacularly beautiful. An incomparable. Even in your mother’s time.”

  Pleasure washed over her. Emma had indeed accomplished a miracle. “Thank you … Joshua.”

  “But, I still prefer my lakeside nymph. She is much more accommodating.”

  “Accommodation is easier without clothes.”

  He laughed out loud, and she hastened to add, “I mean, without these formal type clothes … oh, I give up. I’m just going to be silent for the rest of the evening before the earl thinks I’m a completely inappropriate companion.”

  “Ah. So that is what all this effort is for.”

  “Not all. Some is to entice you. Emma thinks you might be courting me.”

  “I see.”

  “Are you?” Alex asked. It seemed impossible, but maybe not.

  “I thought you were going to be silent for the rest of the night,” he answered.

  She was disappointed. The idea that he might be courting her had become appealing. Not that she could love him. Oh, lord. Her steps faltered and Joshua steadied her instantly, inquiring with his eyes if she was okay. She stared in horror. She was not in love with him, was she?

  “My sweet, that expression is not at all flattering. You’re not going to be ill are you?”

  She shook her head in denial. At him. At her stupidity.

  “Hold on a bit longer. We’re nearly done.”

  “I’m fine.” She forced a smile at the man who continued to befuddle her. “Perfectly fine.” She just needed to get as far away from him as possible, as soon as possible.

  The evening progressed beautifully and was fast becoming the highlight of the summer. Alex wandered from the crowds to a second-floor balcony in order to view the event. Lady Matilda joined her, the two becoming fast friends when Alex freed the newly arrived chaperone after her dress became tangled in a planter on the veranda.

  They watched as Emma was introduced to a young man at the far end of the ballroom. “Do you know that man?” Alex asked Lady Matilda.

  “Yes, I met him earlier. Lord Heatherly. A nice young man. Clever as well. A professor with the British Museum.”

  “What!” Alex looked again. “That is not Lord Heatherly!”

  She touched her wrist instinctively, wishing for knives. “Hurry. Find the Duke of Worthington. We must get Emma away from that man.”

  Lady Matilda turned with shock. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I have met Lord Heatherly. Just this week. And that,” she pointed to the man, “is not Lord Heatherly.”

  “Impossible!” Lady Matilda was genuinely distressed.

  “Please. Find Worthington or Stonewood,” Alex implored, pushing the elder woman on her way. She reached for her ankle, then stopped, stuck in a half bend, her dress preventing further movement. “Wait!” she cried. Lady Matilda came back, her color unnaturally high. “I cannot reach my gun. Assist me.” She lifted her right ankle while pulling up her skirt.

  Lady Matilda lost all her color. “You have a gun under your skirts?”

  “Believe me, there is room for plenty more, only …” She bent as far as she could to illustrate that she could not bend at all. “… impossible to reach!”

  “Good lord. Marcus was right,” Lady Matilda mumbled, handing her the gun between two fingers. “What will you do?”

  Alex abandoned all hope of appearing genteel. “I’m going to stop him.”

  Hurrying away, Alex followed Emma’s progress, strategizing. The imposter was leading Emma out onto the dark veranda. Alex would not make it in time. Looking across, the fastest route instantly appeared in her mind with a red-hot flash. Chandelier. Drapery rope. Floor. On another day, a distinct possibility. In this dress, a run for the stairs was the better option. She hurried, gun tucked in her skirts, and made her way back to the crowds. Unfortunately, in her rush, she did not account for the slide of polished floors, the edge of a carpet, and an old dowager fainting at the sight of Alex running full speed.

  Lord Merriton sipped some champagne, enjoying conversation with Worthington as they caught up on news.

  “Heatherly is coming, isn’t he?” Joshua asked.

  “Yes, yes. Don’t worry. He probably got distracted reading or something,” Colin promised.

  “Excellent,” Joshua forced himself to be patient. He had done some investigating and found that Heatherly and Miss Rule had been imposters. Unfortunately he had yet to track them. He did find the real Heatherly, and looked forward to introducing him to Alex, certain the man would have information that would be useful to her.

  “I’m sure your sea captain will be very grateful for your help,” Colin reassured. “By the way, she is not at all how you made her out. Why, I fully expected her to be swinging from the chandeliers, garnishing weapons, and causing—” Colin stopped, his attention caught by the vision in gold running across the second-floor viewing area and apparently unaware that when she turned the corner she would be faced with two elderly patronesses who had the power to cut her completely from London society with a mere word. “—general mayhem.”

  Joshua continued chatting, unaware of the scene behind him. “She’s not a pirate, man. Just a very determined woman at times.”

  Colin nodded. The eldest dowager stumbled at the sight of Miss Stafford barreling toward her, a look of fear visible, even from the slight distance. The other woman fell over in an apparent faint, and Colin was certain all three women would tumble down the stairs an instant later. To his surprise, it didn’t happen.

  “I know Marcus has his doubts about her, but she is simply unaccustomed to our social habits. Her heart’s in the right place.”

  “Uh-huh.” Colin wanted to say something, but he didn’t quite know how to tell his friend that Marcus might have reason for concern. Instead of colliding into the swooning dowager, Miss Stafford agilely leapt, albeit her upper body unnaturally stiff, slid on her bottom partially down the stair rail, and ultimately lost her balance, which he thought was no surprise in that delectable dress. She fell sideways to her certain death. But she didn’t die. With one elegantly gloved hand she grabbed hold of the one of Stonewood’s blue decorative banners, and caught herself midair, her dress ballooning out for what he might have otherwise appreciated to be a spectacular view. Until the banner ripped, with a distinctly loud tear, drawing a dangerous amount of attention. Miss Stafford fell the next ten feet with only her dress to slow her down.

  Colin ventured a wary look to his doomed friend, who continued to plead her case. “In any event, she has been very anxious tonight to behave and I know it’s an effort for her—though not as much as she would pretend—and meeting the real Heatherly would make her evening much more interesting. Then he can visit tomorrow to advise her, and—”

  The duke stopped.

  “Colin, what has you so enraptured?”

  His friend turned around in time to see Miss
Stafford straighten her legs and regain balance after a relatively successful landing. One hand, Colin noted, had a small pistol, which she shoved between the folds of her skirts, while the other hand attempted to discreetly pull up the top of her dress, which had temporarily exposed a delightful, but decidedly unacceptable amount of her breasts. A servant nearby nearly dropped a tray of champagne flutes at the shock of Miss Stafford landing in front of him. She steadied the tray with a helpful hand, only to turn around and have Langley drop his entire tray right next to her, causing an unholy clatter. Miss Stafford quickly sidestepped the disaster. Quite politely, to all appearances, and excused herself, moving to the veranda.

  The next second, Lady Matilda came to an abrupt halt in front of them, flushed and worried.

  “Gentlemen. We have a situation!” she whispered urgently.

  “Miss Stafford,” Colin guessed.

  “Yes. There is a man here posing as another, and he has Emma, and Miss Stafford went to stop him, and she has a—”

  “Pistol.” Colin had noted that.

  “Yes!” Lady Matilda answered. “Gentlemen. The scandal! You must hurry.”

  “Oh, no.” The duke took a step forward. “Heatherly.”

  “Yes, Your Grace! What is—” They already had their backs to her. “—going on?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alex found Emma and the imposter within seconds of going outside. Thankfully, he had not taken her far.

  “Emma,” Alex called sharply. “Come here.” Emma, ever polite, invited Alex to come meet Lord Heatherly.

  “Emma. Step away from the man.”

  “Alex, really—”

  “Emma! Please. Step away from the man.”

  Emma stepped away, and Alex lifted her weapon. “I have met Lord Heatherly. He is a kindly old man in his sixties. This is not Lord Heatherly.”