Romantically Enchanted: A Twisted Fairytale Collection

by Madeline Martin

  She bit her lip. "I didn't think to ask. He's not a full god, but could be a demigod. She didn't say. She masquerades as a duchess when she visits, so he must be someone important."

  A sour feeling twisted in his stomach. The dance ended, and he pulled Ione to the side. "You don't think it could be Underwood, do you? I mean, it is his family that threw the ball, and I've never seen her around before…" The Fates, who apparently were real, couldn't be that cruel to him. His enemy couldn't be a demigod. How would James ever come out of this with the upper hand if so?

  "Well, she explained that and said mortals without the knowledge of her true identity usually forget all about her after she leaves, so you wouldn't remember seeing her." Ione glanced around. "If we cross paths again, I'll inquire."

  James didn't want to risk angering a goddess or even a demigod if things turned ugly with the earl. Though he hoped it didn't come to anything dire, the sour feeling in his gut amplified when he speculated what Underwood's next move would be. Being a demigod would make the lack of remorse and twisted amusement make sense, and even his strength to have cut so cleanly with a small blade through bone, though that didn't necessarily prove anything. The dagger had been wicked sharp.

  Didn't demigods have powers? Immortality as well? Now that the prospect had entered his mind, he couldn't shake the helpless feeling of anxiety from taking hold of him. How could he protect his sister, family, and Ione from someone like that?

  CHAPTER 9

  EARLY MORNING SUNLIGHT spilled through the windows of Ione's bedroom. She turned over, feeling for James, then remembered she'd come back to her room after the ball and had fallen asleep the moment she'd gotten undressed and laid down in the bed, gloriously nude. Her reveries only lasted so long as it took her mind to catch up with her body in waking. She'd wanted to sneak into his room again, but so much had happened that she'd barely given any thought to her urges the night before.

  It was her last full day, and Poseidon would expect an answer from her, yet with all the excitement of the ball and dancing the day before, she hadn't taken a moment to consider how they would make it back to Summerfield by nightfall. They hadn't planned to depart the city today to return, and they had ridden almost an entire day to reach London. James hadn't even taken her deadline into consideration, but she also hadn't spoken to him about it much either. They put it off, and now she had to resolve the issue.

  What if he wants me to leave?

  Ione didn't believe that, and she shook the thought from her head. It was her fault for not making it clear she had to return to Summerfield specifically. For forgetting about that entirely. And he had a lot happening himself. She'd come into his life at a trying time, and it wasn't fair to expect to be the only person who mattered. So… it was up to her to come up with a solution. And she would.

  While she thought about the dilemma, Ione dressed herself in one of the borrowed day gowns from Wendelin—the girl wasn't lying when she said she had a lot of blue in her wardrobe. She didn't bother with undergarments, and the simple gown was easy enough to button herself. Then she set about pinning her hair up like Emily had shown her. After she slipped her shoes on, Ione made her way downstairs to look for James. Maybe she should run the problem by him and see if he could come up with a solution since they hadn't discussed her last day in any length.

  Instead of James, however, she came upon the viscount sitting at the table reading the paper with a pair of spectacles at the end of his nose. He glanced up at her when she came in. It was the first time she'd been alone with the man since meeting him, and Ione sensed he disapproved of her. Given the way mortals obsessed over propriety and her less than traditional way of appearing in their lives, she didn't take offense to it.

  "Sit, Miss Andersen. Let us have a chat."

  She swallowed and did as he asked. Better he get his objections out of the way now, for if she stayed, she'd be in this situation sooner rather than later.

  "As you are aware, my son may come from good stock, but he is unlikely to inherit my title unless, God help us, some great tragedy falls upon this family. What are you after?"

  She blinked. "I apologize if this seems too forward, my lord." Ione crossed her arms, realizing he may have offended her after all. She didn't want material possessions or empty titles from James. She wanted the man himself. "I'm in love with your son." As she spoke it aloud for the first time, warmth swelled through her. Perhaps it had been love at first sight for her; she'd never really know. But she did love him. "I fell for him before I knew who he was or his status. I sa—he saved my life, and he's a kind person. Being near him makes me happy."

  Martin Harlow, Viscount Summerfield, folded his paper and removed his spectacles, placing them on the top. He leaned back in his chair, which required little movement as his posture had already been ramrod stiff. "Be that as it may, it's highly unusual for a woman to appear from nowhere." He had waved his hands about in an elaborate gesture on the word appear.

  "I came from—"

  "Denmark? Yes." He stood and walked over to the table by the entry way and retrieved a small envelope from a silver tray before he sat back down. "After my son returned mutilated and with an unknown woman on his arm he is not of yet married to, I took it upon myself to reach out to my acquaintances in the area outside Summerfield for confirmation of your strange tale. A response arrived this morning."

  At the word tale, Ione nearly stole a glance to insure her fins had not returned. Whatever did the viscount discover? Of course, she knew the answer was nothing. There was nothing to uncover because she didn't exist in the mortal realm until two days ago. She shouldn't be nervous, but the man's manner of dressing her down with a hard stare and a firm tone had her half ready to bolt out of the room, but if she couldn't stand up to James' father now, he could very well attempt to separate James from her. Her heart was true, and she could do this.

  He opened the envelope and pulled out a letter. "There was no carriage theft or death of a Dutch woman. You have fabricated your identity, and my son has assisted you. What I don't understand is why? If all that occurred is falling into bed with him, that can be rectified with a marriage. You're not the ideal match, but it would avoid a scandal."

  When she said nothing, rooted to the spot by this one man's disapproval of her, hearing the echoing jeers of her sisters when they were young, laughing at her dull coloring and saying she wasn't as beautiful as they were, Summerfield leaned forward. "I think you either did that to his hand yourself and are forcing him to do your bidding, whatever it may be..." When she choked on a laugh of indignation, he added, "Or you know who did it, and he's helping you to keep the secret for some reason." He sat up straight again. "Are you a spy, Miss Andersen? Working for the Dutch? The French? Your accent doesn't sound like anything I am familiar with."

  "I'm not a spy." She didn't know what else to say. She'd asked James to hide Underwood's identity to keep his family out of the tangle he was already in with the earl until a resolution could come about. Enlightening his father surely wouldn't help matters.

  "Then you know what happened to my son, and I expect an explanation, or I shall have you arrested."

  She gaped at him, unable to form a thought at that. "On what grounds?" If she didn't make it to see Poseidon, he would ascend upon the mortal realm and hurt James when he was innocent. She couldn't let that happen, no matter what.

  "Conspiracy against this family. I don't know," he all but shouted at her. "I'll make something up. A lie in reward for the lies you've told."

  Damn. She bit her lip and glared at the table in front of her. She would have to give him information or he'd ruin everything with his suspicions. She couldn't contact Poseidon from a prison of some sort, and if he had to come looking for her he might hurt someone if he was in a temper. "All right. I'll tell you who hurt your son…if you give your word not to make a move against that person until Captain Harlow decides to do so. The man has acquaintances, and their identities are not yet known. We kept it secr
et for Lady Wendelin's safety."

  "Wendelin?" The viscount's eyes grew round. "Someone is targeting members of my family, and you expect me to sit idly by—"

  She stood and slammed her hands on the table, leaning in. "I don't expect anything, my lord. I am just keeping the secret while Captain Harlow handles it." What would the viscount say if he knew Ione intended to handle it herself if given the opportunity? James wanted his revenge, but she wasn't a clipped flower in danger of wilting. She could handle herself.

  He glared at her for several moments before heaving a dramatic sigh. "I'll keep quiet, for now. Who did it?"

  Ione gritted her teeth, but she had little choice. "The Earl of Underwood."

  Summerfield stared at her, almost like she hadn't spoken. Then he rubbed his chin and said, "So that explains the spat about going to the Huntington ball. I thought he didn't want the earl to court… Ahhhh. It all makes sense now." All his hostility toward her seemed to have dissipated, though he still looked agitated enough to snap at her again.

  She nodded. "Yes, he made a game out of Captain Harlow's injury by waiting to see if he survived before making his next move. He wants your son's ship, and he wants Lady Wendelin as his wife." She hated being the one to tell the viscount when James had wanted to be honest with his family from the start and hadn't because of her. She hoped he'd forgive her.

  "Absolutely not."

  "I've told you what you want. Now tell me something." She stood up straight and clasped her hands in front of her. "Where is Captain Harlow?"

  At first, she thought the viscount might not tell her, then he said, "He went to the shipping office. Probably to secure the ship you say is likely to be stolen."

  The docks. Of course! As far as epiphanies went, she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it sooner. It was still early in the day, but maybe she could find James and they could go ahead and call Poseidon to land. It was earlier in the day, but did it matter when love was concerned?

  "Do you mind if I use your carriage?"

  The viscount scoffed and shook his head. "You can't go to the docks."

  "And why not?"

  He made an impatient sound and ticked off the reasons on his fingers. "You're not wearing gloves or a bonnet, you're not chaperoned, and if this is truly your first time in London and not a lie like your identity, then you have no idea where you are going. Now, for whatever reason, my son has taken a liking to you, so I would be remiss to be the reason something unfortunate occurred."

  She narrowed her eyes, though his concern for her safety was as endearing as it was maddening. "You're forbidding me to go?"

  "I'm asking you to wait for Jonathan to arrive to escort you."

  Ione threw her hands up. "Then I'll be unchaperoned with him now! You Englishmen and all your silly rules."

  That got a small hint of a smile out of him before he controlled it. "But since you're likely to be engaged to my youngest son, Jonathan's brother, it's the best option you have."

  Ione plopped into her chair and slumped back, scowling. It would seem she had no other option but to wait to be escorted about like a child. If they only knew what power she possessed once she got near a body of water. No matter where she went, below the surface or above it, she was bound by rules. She thought she'd have more freedom on land, but it was more of the same.

  Was love enough to leave one set of rules for another?

  DECIDING he needed time to think things over, James went for a walk after finishing up at the shipping office. The Poseidon's Mercy remained docked. Everyone had promised to keep an eye on it and report any suspicious activity. Now he was left to chastise himself for yet another oversight where Ione was concerned.

  They weren't going to make it back to Summerfield for her to meet up with Poseidon. She'd mentioned it and he'd put it out of his mind because he hadn't wanted to think about the prospect of her leaving if that was what she chose. A trip to the country this late in the day, stretching into the overnight hours, would send tongues wagging, when they would have to turn around and come right back until Underwood had been dealt with. James needed to come up with an alternate plan so he didn't anger a god known through legends for being wrathful lest he wanted to waste years of his life like Odysseus, punished for not showing proper respect.

  "You look like the kind of gentleman in need of a shiny bauble for a lucky lady."

  A jewelry cart had been set up on the side of the street, and he turned toward the owner of the voice. No one else paid it any mind despite its oddity due to the lack of other carts being present on the street. James had never seen it before. In fact, he hadn't noticed it as he rode by earlier that morning either.

  "Don't just stand there." The man at the cart waved a hand welcomingly and smiled. He had short, dark hair and bright blue eyes. Likewise, he was clean shaven and appeared too well-tailored for a street merchant. As James moved closer, he noticed the strange design sewn into the man's dark blue waistcoat. A seahorse…but wrong. The front half looked like an actual horse with webbed feet, but the back end was a fish tail. Like a mermaid's. He'd seen that design before, but where? "Take a look and see what you like."

  James glanced at the offerings. Rings and necklaces made of fine jewels sparkled in the sunlight. How had this man not been robbed so close to the docks? Unless…they were fakes.

  "They're all real, if that's what you're worried about."

  Abashed, James opened his mouth to deny that's what he'd been thinking, but the man kicked at the bottom of the cart with his boot. "Broke a wheel. My associate took the mule to go find assistance. I decided to set up and try to make a sale or two while I waited. To pay for the wheel, if anything."

  James needed to relax and pay better attention. The cart was clearly tilted on the broken axle. What was wrong with him? "I didn't notice. I wondered how you managed to not be targeted by pickpockets in this area."

  The man shrugged his broad shoulders. "I can look threatening when necessary. But enough about me… You're looking for something for your wife? Intended?"

  James snorted. He probably should have a ring for Ione if they were to be married. Why not now? "Aren't you afraid I am a lowlife since I have this?" He raised his hook. The stares had become easier to ignore, but this man hadn't so much as looked at it—that James had noticed anyway. Of course, he'd missed the cart and the broken wheel, so his observation skills were lacking today due to so many distractions and problems to solve.

  "You have a look about you that says you're a man enraptured by a female, but it scares you, and you're not sure you're making the best choices regarding her."

  Well, that's one way of putting it. "That's true. I was supposed to make sure she made it to a, uh, family gathering in the country, and we didn't make plans to travel in time. Now I'm trying to figure out how to break the news to her and come up with a way to correct my mistake."

  The man cocked his head to the side, assessing him. "She'll understand. Women usually do."

  "And her family?"

  With a dark chuckle, the man asked, "Are they the wrathful sort?"

  Interesting term. A shiver ran up his spine. James gave the man a once-over. Surely he wasn't another god. But he'd been thinking about Poseidon being wrathful before this man appeared from nowhere and…that waistcoat pattern. Suddenly it hit him. There was an illustration in a mythology book he kept on his ship that he enjoyed reading when he had trouble sleeping. That seahorse was a hippocampus. Wasn't it a Greek creature associated with the gods of the sea? But, Poseidon was supposed to be an old man with a beard like Zeus, right? That's how all the statues looked.

  "I haven't met them yet, but I've heard they could be intimidating."

  Laughing, the man pointed again at the cart. "Half-off anything you want. Because you've brought me amusement."

  Was he or wasn't he the sea god? He didn't want to ask and sound crazy, so he clasped his hook in his opposite hand behind his back and browsed the gems. The necklaces were lovely, but he wanted a ring.
One stood out among the others, a ruby cut into a rectangle in a silver setting with a few small diamonds at the sides. She'd looked stunning in the red dress, and he'd always associate the color with her now.

  "This one." He plucked the ring up and showed it to the man who smiled back at him, a curious expression on his face as though he knew some great secret he didn't intend to share.

  "Excellent choice. Red is the color of passion, after all."

  "So it is." He paid the man and placed the ring in his coat pocket. "Thank you. For everything." He put emphasis on the word. If he was right about the man's identity, he would understand.

  The man nodded and then turned away. Dismissing him.

  James shrugged and headed toward the offices to retrieve his carriage so he could return to his father's house. He wanted to propose to Ione right away. Suddenly, that was the most important thing on his mind. But when the shipping office came into sight, chaos had taken over the place. Was that…smoke? He moved closer as bright orange flames licked at the windows of the building he'd been in not even an hour ago. Men were lining up to pass a bucket down the line to try quelling it. How did it happen?

  A niggling at the back of his thoughts made him anxious, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was broad daylight, and the lanterns wouldn't have been lit. Someone had done it intentionally, but why?

  His ship. It was a diversion.

  Without a spare thought, he sprinted toward the docks, praying he was wrong. But as his ship came into view, it clearly wasn't tied to the dock. At the bow, Underwood waved at him and his laugh filled the space between them.

  "There you are!" someone said behind him and grabbed his shoulder.

  He spun around, ready to land a facer if it was one of Underwood's group of boys. But it was only Jonathan, who sported a bloody welt on the side of his head. "What the devil happened to you?"

  "Father called me over to escort Miss Ione to the docks to look for you. She said it was important and couldn't wait, so I acquiesced. When we arrived, I was struck from behind and dragged into an alley. I saw you running by as I came to." He looked toward the ship, which had sailed too far away to reach from the dock. "I say, is that your ship?"