“Ah, I shall be surrounded by beauties,” Colin crowed.
“The London house is not even prepared,” Stonewood continued, frustrated.
“Oh, I don’t think … that is …” Stephen winced. “I got the impression she would stay with us, then visit Boston if no husband could be found. But perhaps I misunderstood.”
“Oh, I doubt it, dear boy.” Colin patted his shoulder. “What of your note, Marcus? Any clues as to Miss Stafford’s next move?”
The earl shook his head, but read with a sound of increasing guilt. “Only that I am everything Emma said I was. ‘Funny, thoughtful, insightful, caring.’ ”
“That sounds more like me,” Colin said.
Marcus scanned the rest of the letter before crumpling the paper in his hand. “I’m an idiot.”
“Agreed,” Colin offered placidly, pouring them all a drink. He looked at Stephen, then around the room. “So, I guess we are all off to London tomorrow?”
There were resigned nods.
Joshua thought the support of friends might be useful. Alex had left completely without protection. It made him uneasy. The sooner he reached her the better. And the sooner she admitted she needed him, the easier his life would be.
Chapter Twenty
Alex arrived at the Staffords’ London house in near exhaustion. Usually she appreciated the elegant lines of their home near Hyde Park, but today she thought she would just make it up the steps. O’Neil, their man in charge, sent someone to attend to Salem. Wearily she peeled off her riding coat and let it fall to the tile floor where O’Neil caught it, tsking at her state of disarray and asking where her companions were. He hadn’t had a chance to tell Alex the latest news when her brother Samuel walked into the foyer and revealed himself, having heard her voice.
“Samuel!” Alex was filled with new energy, more grateful than ever to see her eldest brother. He always made it seem like everything would be okay. She rushed to him with such exuberance she nearly knocked him over, which was saying something as he was equal in size to Joshua, whom she considered quite a giant. Samuel in turn spun her around until she was dizzy.
“Allie!” Samuel embraced her fiercely before putting her down and inspecting. “I thought Aunt Maggie would have had you in bows and curls by now, married of to some skinny, spineless twit.”
“I’m not so easily married off.” She brushed back some errant hair.
“Come along, I have a surprise that will perk you up.” He pulled her into the study.
“You have not married and begot children, have you?” Alex inquired.
“No, you impertinent imp. Go see for yourself.”
Alex walked into the study and saw nothing. She wondered what joke her brother was playing then noticed another glass of whisky had been poured. Just as she turned with suspicion, Matthew jumped out from behind the door and scared the life out of her.
Pleased with her surprised shriek, he proceeded to smother her with hugs. Samuel grinned, crossing his arms across his chest, satisfied at the reunion. There was some color on her cheeks now. Then he frowned, noticing something that looked suspiciously like moisture in her eyes. His gut tightened. When had she gotten so sentimental? What was wrong? She looked like she had not slept lately, but he knew she went through periods when sleep was difficult. He guessed her correspondence hadn’t told nearly the full story. Yes, definitely moisture. Matthew stepped back to check what he had seen as well.
“Alex. I thought you’d be happy to see us,” Matthew said.
“I am, you idiot.” Alex wiped an eye before the tear could escape.
Samuel teased her hoping to lighten the mood. “We haven’t ruined some secret rendezvous you were planning, have we?” The very thought made him laugh. It had the opposite effect on Alex.
She looked at him in shock.
Samuel reached for her apologetically, but she stepped away, the pain on her face acute.
“Alex?” Samuel said. “I didn’t mean—”
He tried to explain, but fell silent when tears spilled over his sister’s cheeks, seemingly unstoppable, and she ran from the room, her expression stark.
Matthew stalked quietly to his whisky tumbler. He was always the calm one. He swallowed the contents of his glass in one toss, then turned to his brother with murder in his eyes.
“I believe we arrived just in time.”
Samuel agreed. Someone would pay for this. First they had to find out who.
She almost had them fooled into thinking she was just exhausted from so many parties. When Alex joined them again for dinner, she wore an emerald green dress and had her hair gleaming and displayed regally on top of her head. Matthew even gawked as he asked what she’d done with their sister. She laughed, appearing calm, and politely apologized for her earlier hysterics. They wanted to strangle her. She had definitely been in England too long.
Patiently, at least patiently for them, the brothers caught Alex up on all their news while plying her with alcohol. She shared tales of their aunt, Lady Emma, and all her new friends in Kent.
“So are all the men in England blind, Alex?” Matthew smiled charmingly. “I cannot believe they haven’t been throwing themselves at you.”
“Oh, they find my money attractive enough,” Alex said, explaining how Pillington had plotted to compromise her and force her into marriage. “As if I would care about being compromised by an Englishman,” she stated.
Samuel grunted. “We’d just kill him and be done with it.”
“That’s what I told him. He was quite surprised to be looking down the barrel of my flintlock.”
“Well, I’m glad you haven’t fallen for any snotty, simpering, silly-tongued dandies, Alex,” Matthew commented casually. He wasn’t easily diverted.
“Of course not,” Alex assured.
“I pity this country, though,” he continued, “that they have not one decent man worthy of your approval.”
Alex opened her mouth to defend the Brits, then stopped and looked down to hide the truth. “Well,” she said with honey in her voice, “certainly none who could hold a candle to any of my brothers. I guess I’ve just been spoiled.”
Samuel barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Allie, I believe you have become a liar!”
“But when they are sweet lies, it’s permissible,” Matthew said in her defense.
“Aye. Another round then.” Samuel poured the drinks and, knowing they would get nothing else on the subject of men, turned the conversation to the recent attack on her ship. The tale left him cold, though he kept his expression calm. Matthew gripped and fiddled with silverware, ready to wield his fork like a weapon. By the time Alex told them of the robbery at Lilyfield, Matthew’s fork was embedded in the table.
Samuel shared a look with his brother. Both knew Alex had her secrets and she guarded them well. But if Alex really did have the map Paxton sought, it was one secret that could get her killed.
Alex spent the next day on her ship. She watched the crew from the top deck and breathed in the warm air. Granted there was an unpleasant stench emanating from the water around the wharf, but just being there felt like being home. The smell was the same in nearly every harbor.
Her ship was anchored, its gangplank lowered to the dock while her crew prepped and loaded supplies. Alex spent the day working in the tactical area and meeting room. She kept most of the charts here and the table doubled for a dining space. She had another desk at the farthest end where she kept her ledgers and inventory notes. The door opposite led to her personal cabin.
A familiar, rhythmic knock interrupted. “Come in, Birdie.”
He entered and bobbed his head while swiping his cap to show his shiny bald scalp. “Decks are sparkling like new. The fellows ’bout to take a break. Thought I’d see how ya are.”
Alex smiled effusively, not wanting Birdie to fuss. “I’m fine, Birdie. Looking forward to the sail home.”
“Lookin’ forward to boredom, are ya?”
“Peace and quiet.”<
br />
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t buy it. “Nothin’ to do with that big, blond blue blood, is it? I seen how ya looked at him.” Birdie unhooked a stool from the wall and sat down next to her at the chart table.
“With annoyance, you mean?” Alex deliberately misunderstood.
“You know what I mean, missy. Fixin’ your hair an’ all.”
Alex laughed as Birdie stroked his imaginary long hair, mimicking a feminine mating ritual.
“Mind you, nothin’ wrong with hankerin’ for a Brit, other than their obvious flaws. Yer mom was one after all, so there gotta be somethin’ good about them. ’Course, she married out of the country as soon as she was able and cain’t says I blame her, but we’re talkin’ about you now.” Birdie thought he should give some approval over her choice. “The duke seems an honest sort. I chatted up his crew.”
“Birdie!”
“Now, don’t go on, thankin’ me.” He winked at her irritation. “His crew spoke highly of him. He’s feared and respected, and they say none fairer than he. High praise for a Brit, but then he’s one of their own, and a smart man don’t bite the hand that feeds it, eh?” Birdie huffed from the effort of saying something nice about a Brit. “Even so, I reckon he’s all right, iffin’ you like him.”
Alex was certain it was the longest speech Birdie ever gave her. She was touched by his concern, but this was one situation that there was no solution for, only survival.
“So, what be the situation? Ya ain’t runnin’ off with your tail between yer feet, are ya? ’Cause ya know that ain’t no way to find yer happiness.”
Alex scowled, offended at the suggestion. “No. I’m not runnin’ off, old man.” With a resigned sigh, Alex confessed. “I’m not the kind of woman he really wants.”
“What?” Birdie looked like the concept was impossible.
“It’s true. He wants a peaceful, dutiful duchess to grace his home. Not … not me.”
“You could be a duchess. Not peaceful and dutiful, but still good.”
“We agreed it was impossible.”
“Shortsighted bastard. Never liked him. Cold fish. All them Brits. Cold fish.”
Alex laughed, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re the only man I need, Birdie.”
“Och.” Birdie whacked her on the shoulder with his cap. “That’s your mother’s charm in ya.”
“Thanks for making me feel better.” She forced a grin she didn’t feel, while helping reattach the stool to the hooks on the wall.
When he was gone Alex sat down, rubbed her eyes and wondered when she would ever be able to stop running.
By late that afternoon, Matthew was vexed. He joined Samuel in the study and pulled out the single malt. “She wants to stay on her ship tonight. A sure sign of something pitiful. I can see it plain as day but she won’t tell me a thing. It’s a man, though. I’m sure of it. Perhaps he’s married?” He poured two glasses and handed one to his brother.
“He’s not.” Samuel took his drink and sipped, an intense satisfied expression on his face as he explained. “But he’s a duke. Seventh Duke of Worthington. His home is between Aunt Maggie’s and Lady Emma’s. He’s that Marcus fellow’s best friend.” He paused to let that sink in. “Funny she never mentioned him.”
Matthew raised a quizzical brow.
“Ah, hell … I pumped the servants who arrived with her things.” He relaxed in a chair and held out his glass for Matthew to top it.
“What sort of man is he?” Matthew asked.
“Does it matter? He’ll be dead soon enough,” Samuel said.
Noise in the foyer got his attention. “Stephen.” Matthew put down his drink, recognizing the voice. “Maybe now, some answers.”
“From the sound if it, he’s brought the entire countryside with him,” Samuel noted.
Lady Emma entered the Stafford home with Stephen, and after one look at the two angry giants approaching them, knew she would remember this day for a long time to come.
They made an impressive sight, these Staffords. The largest, she knew to be Samuel. He strode into the foyer imperiously, his brother at his side, the two standing like warriors ready to kill, faces harsh and unyielding. Samuel had a barbaric look about him, and his lips were firmed, indicating he would be relentless when he went after something. The only thing that softened her to him was his obvious affection for young Stephen. And then the warmth was gone, and he folded his hulking arms across his extraordinarily large chest and waited. His younger brother did the same. When Emma looked back at her fellow travelers, she realized that Marcus and Colin had assumed a similar pose behind Joshua. She sighed loudly. Men! This would surely be entertaining, she thought, her brow arching with humor. A shame Alex was missing it.
“Friends, Stephen?” Samuel asked.
“Where’s Alex?” Joshua didn’t have time for this.
The second brother stepped forward, assessing whether the Englishman would put up much of a fight.
The elder held up a hand. Tension mounted. “And you are?”
“Joshua Leigh.”
The duke didn’t dress it up for them. A wise move, Emma thought. They seemed to appreciate that. Nor did he offer a hand, clearly realizing that none would be forthcoming.
“Worthington,” Samuel said in recognition. It was a statement of disgust. Emma swallowed, waiting to see how that would be received.
“The same.” Joshua took another step forward, facing the American. They matched inch for inch in height, and likely shoulders as well. “I need to see Alex.”
“That so? I don’t recall her mentioning anyone by your name,” Samuel commented, looking ready to inflict pain. Good lord. They were about to come to blows. Emma squeezed between the hulking bodies and hastened to introduce herself and the rest of the party, hoping good manners and salutations would encourage friendliness. It didn’t work.
“Afraid we can’t help you, old man. She’s gone,” the second brother said.
Samuel felt a tinge of sympathy when a pained look clouded Worthington’s eyes. The man didn’t look particularly well-rested either. That brought him a small degree of satisfaction.
“Tell me she has not left London?”
“Is she down at the ship?” Stephen asked.
“What business is it of his?” Samuel parried.
Stephen looked at Joshua. “He has feelings for Alex.”
Emma nodded. “He’s besotted. He can’t think straight.”
“Besotted,” Samuel repeated, thinking it absurd. Though, Worthington did look a bit crazed. “What do you want with her, Worthington?”
“I would talk with her first.”
Samuel shrugged. “Then what proof have we that your intentions are sincere?”
“You have my word.”
“The word of a Brit,” Matthew scoffed.
“Let’s just say you owe me, Stafford.” The duke’s arrogant statement had everyone’s attention now. Samuel’s eyes narrowed, waiting.
Worthington continued, his gaze piercing Samuel in its intensity. “You were there, Stafford, three years ago, with your father and another. That night in Morocco.” He pulled out the ring on the chain he kept next to his heart. The entire room was on edge, waiting to see what he held. “The night Alex gave me this.” He opened his palm for Samuel to see the small signet ring displayed in his palm. Samuel was speechless.
Matthew grabbed the ring. “How did you get this?”
“She gave it to me.”
“I was there,” Matthew said, his expression still icy as he handed Samuel the ring. “She looked back. She said a crazy man helped her. She didn’t say he was English.” Matthew couldn’t conceive it. “It was you?”
“Yes. We met again only by chance. I had hoped to call on her the next day, but circumstances prevented me. Will you take me to her? I at least deserve the chance to tell her how I feel. Then if she wants to leave—” Well, if that happened he would kidnap her and deal with it then, but he kept that part to himself.
&
nbsp; Samuel held the ring. His mother’s. Alex would not have given it lightly. Worthington had saved her that night. Reluctantly, he gave it back to the duke. “This needs to be worked out. For good or ill.” Acquiescing, he nodded to the group. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Alex lay on her bunk barefoot and dressed in only loose breeches and a linen shirt, unbuttoned a little for comfort. She stared dry-eyed into the oil lamp, trying to think of what else she could do to take her mind off Joshua. She thought about starting a new journal but decided it was best if everything just stayed in her head.
There was movement on the ship that disrupted the steady rhythm. She felt it before she heard the commotion. Out of habit and experience she slid a knife into her belt and went to make sure her pistol was loaded. She finished loading the second weapon when her cabin door burst open, and the visitor faced down her double-fisted attack.
“Joshua?” She gasped, stunned to find him in London, not to mention on her ship. Samuel and Stephen were in the doorway behind him, and by the sound of it, several others not far behind.
“Don’t.” He took one gun and put it on the desk, followed by the second. Spotting the knife, he took that, too. “Don’t say a word,” he commanded, turning on her and gripping her arms powerfully, nearly lifting her off the floor. “Don’t speak. Don’t ask. Don’t talk.”
Joshua closed the distance between them and took her mouth possessively. His hands raked through her hair until it fell wildly about, and he bent her into his body until she was forced to hold him or lose all balance. He kissed her with a need she didn’t know existed in him, and she responded instinctively in kind.
A feminine gasp from behind caught their attention. Joshua lifted his head for air, taking a moment to gaze into her eyes and stroke a finger down her cheek.
“Just a minute.”
He grinned. Turned. Then slammed the door on several astonished faces. There was a heavy latch that locked the door and he dropped it into place.
“Joshua?” Alex whispered, shocked. He had just slammed the door on Emma, Samuel, Stephen, and goodness knew whom else.
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