An American Lady

by Emma Brady

  “I probably just need some air.”

  “I could throw you out and let you walk home.”

  The twinkle in his eye was the only sign that he was joking. The rest of his face had a serious look. Staring at the strong line of his jaw, Sinclair couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to their kiss.

  “You have nice lips,” she whispered more to herself than to him.

  Lucas was taken by surprise by her admission, but she couldn’t stop looking at his mouth. The straight line of his lips pulled away to reveal strong, white teeth. Those lips appeared so soft, she couldn’t help running her tongue across her own mouth. For a moment it was silent with tension as they stared at each other.

  “Sinclair,” he whispered huskily.

  The sound of her name seemed to draw her eyes up to look at him. They were glazed over and unfocused. She didn’t seem to notice the hot look in his eyes as she gave him a slight smile.

  “Sinclair, the carriage has stopped.”

  At first she didn’t hear him, but without looking away from her, he reached out and opened the door. Snapping to attention, she took a shaky breath while trying to gain her composure.

  “Thank you for taking me home,” she said.

  “Good-bye, Sinclair,” he helped her out with a hand on her elbow.

  Sinclair felt dazed and for a moment she thought she might not be able to keep her balance. Forcing her body into a straight line, she watched his eyes deepen in color. While she still stood there staring at him, Lucas closed the door and headed home.

  LUCAS WAS IN A FOUL mood when the duke entered his office later that day. The older gentleman pretended not to notice as he took a seat in the tiny room. Lucas continued to glare out the window at the ships in port.

  “I get the feeling something is troubling you,” Davonport finally said. “Anything you care to talk about?”

  “That bloody American who now owns your son-in-law’s company has sent me a letter to warn me of his intentions.”

  “Warn you?”

  “He disguised it as a friendly introduction, but I know better.”

  When Lucas turned around, he saw Davonport give him a disbelieving look. Grunting, he tossed the crumpled letter into the duke’s lap.

  “Read it for yourself.”

  The old man took his time glancing over the carefully written message. Lucas watched his unmoving expression. He knew every word of that letter by memory and went over them in his head as he saw the duke reading them. When the duke was finished, he chuckled a bit.

  “It does seem that this gentleman is giving you a challenge.”

  “One that he will regret.”

  “Come now,” Davonport said. “You must remember he is trying to fill someone’s place and in a country not his own. He’s probably just frightened by the big new city.”

  “Then he should go back to America and leave me be.”

  “He is only trying to continue what Brown started, like any good friend.”

  “I need a drink.”

  The duke gave a disapproving raise of his eyebrows but wisely remained quite as Lucas poured a small glass of brandy. Watching the dark liquid swirl in the fine crystal, Lucas tried to calm down. After all, he’d faced bigger struggles than this.

  “Has Sinclair met with him yet?”

  He wasn’t entirely sure of his motive for asking the question. The duke appeared as surprised as surprised by it as he felt.

  “She has not mentioned it. I think she is feeling a bit emotional.”

  “She is too independent.”

  Davonport shrugged. “I believe he is due to arrive within the next couple weeks.”

  Lucas took a sip of his brandy, but it didn’t soothe him. He was truly worried about losing business to this upstart American. The absurdity of it made him blanch.

  “You should not worry so much. You are hardly in dire financial straits.”

  “Applegate is threatening to take his business elsewhere.”

  “You would be better off without him,” Davonport said. “I do not trust that man.”

  “He owns one of the largest jewelers in London.”

  “That does not make him decent.”

  “I do not want to lose what I have worked for.”

  It had taken Lucas years to build what he had and it could all be lost in an instant. The time spent pacing the floors of a bare house, frightened that he might lose the roof over their heads. Knowing that Charlotte depended on him and he couldn’t let her down like their father had. Those sleepless nights were not something he would ever go back to.

  “Sometimes I think you spend too much time on work and forget to enjoy life.”

  Lucas saw the concern in Davonport’s face and wondered that same thing. When had he given up the hope of being happy? Perhaps he needed to remind himself that there was more to the world than this tiny office. As a young boy he had hoped to travel, to leave London for far off locations. After Charlotte was happily settled he might want to think about doing that.

  “Was there any reason you stopped by today?” asked Lucas.

  “I was strolling through the neighborhood.”

  “You never come this close to the docks.”

  Caught off guard, Davonport darted his eyes around the room. Lucas waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts, knowing that his reasons were not going to be pleasant.

  “I wondered if you knew anything about viscount Andrews that I might need to be aware of.”

  “Why?”

  “He sent some flowers to the house addressed to Sinclair.”

  “How did she respond?” It wasn’t difficult to imagine the possibilities and that was enough to make Lucas smile.

  “She said they were lovely, then promptly gave them away to the maid.”

  Lucas couldn’t stop himself from laughing out loud at the thought of the little minx doing that with those expensive flowers. If the Viscount knew, he would most likely throw a fit. It was all quite amusing.

  “It is not funny,”Davonport grumbled. “I am worried she might be passing up a wonderful opportunity.”

  “Worried it might be her only opportunity?”

  “Hardly,” said Davonport, looking indignant. “But the viscount is the most adamant and I hate to think she would just dismiss him.”

  “I think she would be wise to put him off. He is hardly suitable.”

  “What on earth could you mean?”

  “That man is a snake.”

  Davonport looked confused but Lucas didn’t care to elaborate. The old man would learn quickly enough that the viscount had less than honorable intentions. Davonport had never been a foolish man.

  “Do you think I should just let her handle it, then?”

  “I do not think you have much of a choice with Sinclair.”

  They both chuckled lightly.

  “I think it is about time you start thinking of getting married,” Davonport said. “You are of an age to start building a home.”

  “I will get married after Charlotte is settled in a home of her own,” he replied. “Until then I have too many other things to worry about.”

  “You might as well start looking for a bride. There are plenty of eligible ladies out this season.”

  “I am not interested in dimwitted maids and their heavy handed mothers.”

  “You could find a nice widow to settle down with.”

  Lucas had occasionally thought about his future wife, but a widow had never crossed his mind. He assumed he would pick from the many young women fresh to London for the season, but a bit of age might be beneficial. For a moment he pictured Sinclair’s young face glancing up at him with those sleepy eyes as she had after their kiss. That needed to be put out of his mind.

  “I am not planning on marrying anyone for quite sometime, but when I do the only thing that matters is how much she enhances my place.”

  “That’s hardly the way to win a woman’s heart.”

  “She will marry me for my nam
e and my wealth, without the need for romance.”

  “A bit arrogant, do you not think?”

  “Now you sound like your granddaughter.” Lucas grumbled.

  “She might not be wrong.”

  Lucas was growing increasingly uncomfortable with this conversation. He didn’t want to think about Sinclair’s opinion of him or her effect on his thoughts. He knew he needed to get away from this topic as quickly as possible. There was only one way he knew of to divert the dukes attention for certain.

  “Let us find a place to have lunch, I’m starving.”

  Scrambling to his feet quicker than most men his age would be able to manage, Davonport looked thrilled.

  “I know the nicest little place. I have been hoping to take you.”

  “Then lead the way, good man.”

  Chapter 8

  There was barely enough room to move through the crowded ballroom. This was one of the major events of the season, containing all the most important people in London. All around her people in bright costumes laughed and chattered from beneath their masks. Most were easy to identify by their shape or mannerisms, but they all acted as if the mask could hide them from society.

  “Sinclair, is that you?” came a whispered voice beneath the mask of an Aphrodite.

  “Was I easy to spot, Charlotte?”

  “Not really. Your grandmother told me what your costume would be.”

  Sinclair looked down at the layers of white gauze that made up the wide skirt of her gown. More white was used for the top of the dress, laced all over with silver thread. A pair of large white wings were attached to the back and made it difficult to walk. A simple white sash wrapped around her eyes, with tiny holes to see through completed her angelic ensemble.

  “You certainly do stand out though,” Charlotte added. “I could not imagine having the courage to wear something like that. Every eye in the room is looking at you right now.”

  “It was my grandmother’s idea. I didn’t have the heart to say no.” That didn’t mean she hadn’t tried. Stubborn must have been a family trait.

  “I feel ordinary in comparison.” Charlotte whispered, tilting her head closer so that Sinclair could be the only one to hear her.

  “You look lovely.”

  “I look like at least a dozen others in similar costumes.”

  It was true that the Aphrodite costume was very much in fashion at this particular function, but few looked as elegant in it as Charlotte did. Her slender shape fit the draped soft gray satin and her blonde hair gleamed atop her delicate face. The brocade mask she wore had beads dripping along the bottom and that the light every time she turned her head. It wasn’t as dramatic as some of the other ladies, but that made it more elegant. Much the way Charlotte herself was.

  “You are the only one worth looking at.” Sinclair told her friend, hoping that a little reassurance would cheer her up.

  “Stop, you’re making me blush.” It did the trick and Charlotte grinned beneath the beads.

  From where they stood in the crowded room, Sinclair spotted a crown of bright yellow feathers bouncing above the heads of the ton. Grabbing Charlotte’s arm, Sinclair pushed through the mass of people towards the feathers. Just as she’d thought, beneath the feathers was Maria, decked out as an oversized bird. There was no telling how many poor animals had to be plucked to cover the full length of her gown and its long trailing bustle. The bright yellow costume did make her appear under the weather.

  “Maria, what a lovely costume you have,” she said, imitating a British accent.

  “I do not know who you are, but you are not a convincing liar,” the bird said. “You should not even bother.”

  “I couldn’t help myself.” Sinclair was proud of being able to fool her friend.

  Maria looked her over, taking in every detail. The eyes behind the yellow mask stared at her until recognition finally dawned.

  “Sinclair,” she exclaimed with glee. “I barely recognized you.”

  “What finally gave me away?”

  “Charlotte.”

  Sinclair laughed at that simple logic and could feel people turning toward her at the sound. Let them stare. She had nothing to be afraid of.

  “Abigail, come see what our fearless leader has chosen to wear as a disguise.”

  Maria called out over the crowd behind her. Not one, but two identical shepherdesses appeared in layers of frilly blue. Giant pink bows hung down over their pink masks. They had the appearance of being extremely uncomfortable in their costumes but in double.

  “Their mother should not be allowed to dress them,” Maria hissed in Sinclair’s ear.

  “I think Abigail and Andrea both look lovely,” Sinclair replied with a reassuring smile, “Those colors look good on them.”

  “Such a terrible liar,” mumbled Maria with a smile.

  Even with the crush of people surrounding her, necks craning to stare, Sinclair felt comfortable standing there with her friends. These were the first females she’d ever formed a friendship with. It felt good to have someone to confide in and support.

  “Have you seen the esteemed Mr. Applegate?” Maria asked, motioning towards the refreshment tables, “He came dressed as Dionysus, putting away his fair share of wine.”

  Looking across the crowd she could vaguely make out a man’s head covered in grape vines. Only the top of his sandy brown hair could be seen, regardless of how much Sinclair stretched. She wished Charlotte had picked a taller man to possibly become attached to. Height was always something Sinclair admired in a man.

  “Has he made any effort to find Charlotte?” Sinclair asked.

  “Not that I have seen. So far he’s only been looking for more to drink.”

  From her height, Maria watched everyone in the room at once. Sinclair knew that if Mr. Applegate had done anything of interest, Maria would know.

  “I think he is alone at the moment, if that helps,” said Maria.

  “Who will be the one to go talk to him?”

  Sinclair was met with silent stares from all them, which meant she would be that individual. Bolstering her courage, she waved at her friends and pushed her way through the hordes of people. By the time she reached the elaborately decorated table, she was in need of something cool to drink. Accepting a glass of champagne from a tray, she tried not to gulp down the bubbly substance.

  “Quite the crowd tonight, is it not?”

  Looking up from the empty glass, she saw the lopsided grin of Dionysus. He wore a highly decorated toga and a purple mask covering only his eyes. One side of his vine wreath had slipped down near his ears but he hadn’t noticed. Sinclair was surprised to find that the man was barely tall enough to look her in the eye and appeared as thin as a reed.

  “I enjoy crowds,” she said, using her British accent again.

  He didn’t seem to notice anything odd, giving her a crooked grin. “Normally I do as well, except tonight I am looking for someone.”

  “Oh, who might that be?”

  He winked at her and she felt a little uncomfortable. This man was deep in his cups already. Sinclair thought about simply wandering back into the crowd but a quick glance across the room convinced her to stay. Charlotte stared at them as if her entire world rested between them.

  “A woman.” He chuckled. “Isn’t that always what a man is looking for?”

  “She must be quite special for you to spend your time looking for her.” Sinclair gave him an opportunity to say something redeeming.

  “I have been paying court to a sweet little girl with a hefty dowry,” he whispered in confidence, “It shouldn’t surprise you that the latter is the more enticing.”

  “You’re courting her for the money?” Sinclair felt like a brick settled in her stomach.

  The simple minded man had the nerve to shrug casually, making Sinclair’s temper raise. He had no guilt about his actions and that was worse than the behavior itself. It would be just like a man to see only the dollar signs connected to a woman and thin
k that was attraction.

  “I have substantial debts that need to be paid.” He continued, oblivious to the change in her mood.

  “How can you be certain she’s interested in your advances?” Sinclair asked, being careful not to let too much be revealed in her tone.

  “She is a wallflower,” he explained. “She would be happy at anyone’s advances.”

  Sinclair’s nails dug into the flesh of her palm as she resisted the urge to slap him. It would cause a scandal that would result in her grandparents becoming involved. Their involvement was the last thing she wanted.

  “How do you know I am not her?” said Sinclair.

  “You are far too beautiful to be Charlotte Sutton,” he told her with a wink. “Though that would make me a much more affectionate suitor.”

  Before she could stop her hand from moving, she had reached up and smacked the young man across his smirking face. The crack resonated through the room. Everyone looked at her, but she was too full of fury to care. She stood smiling at his astonished face, a red welt appearing on one cheek.

  “I might not be Charlotte,” she said, without the badly done accent, “but you sir are no gentleman.”

  LUCAS HAD JUST ENTERED the ballroom when the crowd’s attention was drawn toward the refreshment table. Standing well above most of the crowd, he had a clear view of two people having a confrontation. A crowd had formed around them, like spectators at a fighting match. This would be the only thing anyone remembered from tonight’s event.

  “I had heard Americans had bad tempers, but I never imagined they acted like heathens in good company,” tittered an old woman dressed as a peacock.

  “She would not even be here if her grandfather was not a duke,” answered the aging soldier standing beside her.

  “It is unfair we are forced to endure her because of her heritage.”

  “Perhaps this disgrace will force her back to her own country.”

  Lucas knew then who was dressed as the angel in the center of the room. Once again the girl was creating a scandal in front of society. The sound of the vultures sweeping in could be heard. Frustrated, he pushed through the crowd towards the couple.