“Yes! And even if we were not, Olivia, do you think I am the kind of man who would abandon a woman alone in a foreign country? Worse, a woman in imminent danger from men who either want to kidnap her for what she knows or kill her to get some useless piece of rock? That’s what you think of me?”
“No—”
He put up a hand. “We drop anchor in less than two hours. Have your things ready.” He spun around and left.
Olivia choked back the tears that threatened. It had been so special. Before he got mad at her. How was she to know if he had time to help her? Or cared. They’d never discussed it. One should discuss these things. Yet he’d avoided her almost entirely the past week. Of course, his ribs were healing. Olivia scrubbed her cheeks from the uncommon moisture. A sailor nearby kindly pretended not to notice. She had never cried before she met Stafford. Leastwise, not in public. Certainly there had been times when her father left for his journeys, and after her mother died she’d felt lost, but she’d always found books to distract her. And parties to attend whenever she wanted. She was a favorite at dinner parties. Stafford wouldn’t know that. And she had Elizabeth, at least for a little longer. Perhaps she would visit her in America. Bring some culture and intellectualism to those heathen Bostonians. That made her smile.
And then maybe she would run into Mr. Stafford again. When things were less hectic. And she would have many adventures and triumphs to regale him with. That was something to look forward to.
She wiped her eyes, straightening.
She would not lose sight of her goals.
Chapter Seventeen
Olivia traveled to the Royal Garden Hotel in her “professor” gear. She thought she might maintain the disguise until she knew the situation with her father.
The lobby of the hotel welcomed guests with a bright, expansive sitting area. The furnishings were English mixed with local design. No heavy fabrics—mostly wood, stone, rattan, and other materials that suited the temperate climate. She liked it. An exotic mix of people lounged in large chairs, enjoying drinks, cigars, and conversation. It seemed safe, harmless, and had a holiday flavor.
They hadn’t been there two minutes when a woman shouted, “Samuel!”
“Allie!” Stafford called back, obviously delighted, and stepped forward to greet her.
“Samuel, indeed.” Olivia muttered over the woman taking the liberty of using his name. He seemed to grant that liberty quite liberally.
Olivia watched with disgust and a bit of jealously as a stunning redhead propelled herself into Stafford’s arms and he spun her around with what could only be a well-practiced routine. When she landed, she pressed her cheek to his chest and squeezed before bombarding him with questions.
The worst part was the look on Stafford’s face. Happiness. Olivia quickly ascertained this would not be one of the women easy for him to say good-bye to.
Olivia couldn’t contain herself any longer. She walked over with only half-hidden disgust. “Honestly, Stafford.” She noted the woman. “Every port?”
“This is different.”
“Really?” She sounded doubtful, she knew, and tried her best not to be rude as she studied the woman. Gads. She was beautiful. She glowed. It was disgusting. Who glowed in this weather? Of course her hair was a horribly bright red. Well … not too bright. And there were some gold streaks that saved it from being completely obscene. But definitely, not the thing. And she had freckles across her nose. You had to be close to observe them, but a flaw nonetheless. She should stay out of the sun. It was fine for Stafford to have his array of freckles. He was a sea captain. He could not avoid the sun.
Olivia couldn’t really fault the woman’s eyes, though Olivia hated her for it. Perfect green. Most annoying. Well, at least she could fault her common sense. The woman wore a blouse with long sleeves, cuffed at the wrist, and a high collar in the back. It was much too warm for that attire. That could only mean the woman was demented. She would warn Stafford later.
The object of her inspection tilted her head to Samuel, then back at her, then back to Samuel. Then she smiled. A dimple on one side. Excellent. A lopsided smile. Only someone who loved her could find that attractive. The smile got bigger as she continued to stare back at Olivia. Until Olivia had the distinct feeling the demented, freckled woman was laughing at her!
Olivia straightened to her full height. An inch above the other woman. The woman nodded to her politely, then turned back to Stafford.
“Samuel,” the redhead whispered so only he and Olivia could hear. “Why is she dressed like a man?”
Olivia gasped. Her costume was perfect today!
Stafford laughed out loud, adding to the insult. “I’ll explain later.” He took the woman’s arm.
“Allie, may I present Professor Oliver Hill.”
“What are you a professor of, uh, Mr. Hill?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“Ancient Egypt.” Olivia was curt. Really, even though she was in disguise, Stafford should have presented the other woman to her. Just because they were in a foreign port did not mean they should forgo manners and rank.
Gads, she was in a bad mood.
“I see. That’s convenient, as we are in Egypt.” The woman’s face withdrew into a polite mask, as if sensing Olivia’s dislike. She turned to Stafford. “Was that a rude question?”
“No. Ollie’s been through a lot. You’ll need to excuse her.”
The woman nodded, accepting, and offered her hand. “Please call me Alex. All our friends do.”
“Alex?” Certain dread struck Olivia. She nearly choked. Then looked at Samuel for confirmation. He had the same hair, only a darkened version. And something in his determined jaw was echoed in the woman’s.
“Yes. Only Samuel and my father call me Allie.”
“Ollie, my sister. Her Grace, Alexandra Stafford Leigh, Duchess of Worthington”—Stafford waved a hand to her—“or something like that.”
“Close enough, brother.” His sister curtsied expertly, but it mocked the English style.
Olivia was certain her face had gone white. “Your Grace, my apologies.” She bowed. Then scowled at Stafford. “You could have told me.”
“I just did.”
She turned to Samuel’s sister. “I thought your were another one of his …” She waved an arm.
“Oh.” Alex frowned at Samuel, repeating Olivia’s earlier words. “Every port? How many ports did you stop in, Professor Hill?”
“Oh. Uh. Only two, Your Grace.”
“Well then. That’s all right. Sunni is engaged, you know. Margueritte I never liked much, but the men can’t help themselves around her. I thought Khalid would have claimed her by now.”
Olivia felt much better hearing that. At least his sister had a discerning mind.
Nathan and Elizabeth entered at the same moment the Duke of Worthington sauntered in to claim his wife. They were introduced, and Stafford’s sister had only warm embraces for Nathan and Elizabeth—now that Elizabeth was “family.” Their circle expanded. That meant only Olivia was not family. She found herself falling outside the circle. Uncomfortable. She also found that her assumptions about Stafford’s sister were not only a mistake, but unkind. The woman looked nothing like a sea captain, for one. A businesswoman, perhaps. There was a spark in her eyes that could not be mistaken for anything but intelligence, and a sharpness that one should not underestimate. But she was warm. And she clearly adored her older brother. Blindly, no doubt. Olivia supposed that was another thing sisters did that she had no experience with. She sighed, inching farther away until Samuel nudged her forward and presented her to the duke. His wife whispered something, but his expression never wavered. He welcomed her unreservedly.
Samuel suggested they freshen up and meet for an early dinner in a few hours. Olivia, for one, could not have been more pleased. She would soak for at least an hour. She felt as if she had accumulated weeks of grime, despite her frequent seawater baths.
Her room did not disappoint, and neither
did the service, compliments of the Staffords. It did pay to have rich friends. She immediately threw herself on the large bed, stretching and sprawling on the comfortable mattress, emitting sighs of pleasure as she stared up at the yellow-painted walls and ceilings. After doing that for a few minutes, she went to the small balcony and stuck her face out into the afternoon breeze. She heard Stafford next door, thanking a hotel worker for handling their bags. Elizabeth and Riedell were on the other side chatting. It seemed they liked the bed as well.
Olivia ducked back in the room. She twirled in the center of the room, simply enjoying the space after weeks of confined privacy. Stafford liked her smile. She pirouetted and twirled. And so far no women in this port. She would forgo being Professor Hill for the evening and take her proper place in society. And she needed the edge of confidence with the company she was keeping. Plus … she wanted to look good for a change. She ignored that fact that she wanted to look good for Stafford.
A hotel maidservant assigned to her helped with her gown. Olivia chose a light muslin with silver ribbons. She secured her hair in a knot, but the woman shook her head.
“No?”
“No, m’lady.”
Olivia took it down. It was straight and heavy—largely unremarkable. Elizabeth’s hair fell in luscious waves around her face and over her shoulders. Olivia’s was just straight. The woman produced some shears and offered to trim the ends. Olivia agreed, and the result was a blunt cut to her shoulders that made her tresses feel thicker and more luxurious. When she spun her head the style fell back into place. It felt good. And fun. She smiled to herself, enjoying the childish act of swinging her hair. Yes, this would do.
Olivia dismissed the maid, then fussed for thirty more minutes. She expected Elizabeth and Riedell to come get her on the way down. When they finally did, Olivia’s stomach was filled with tension.
“What is it dear?” Elizabeth touched her arm.
“Nothing. Just anxious tonight.”
“You needn’t be. You are Lady Olivia Katharine Hastings Yates, genius and consummate lady. And you look stunning.”
“Aye, you do, Lady Olivia,” Riedell said. “The captain won’t be able to take his eyes off you. I’d wager on it.” He caught her expression and grinned. “Not that you’d care, of course.”
“Of course,” she replied. But she hoped he was right anyway.
Samuel had reserved a private room for them to dine in tonight, as there was much to discuss and celebrate. He intended to celebrate before he would have to tell Olivia that there was no word of her father around town. His sister had already made inquiries.
He poured a whiskey for himself and his brother-in-law, enjoying a rare sense of peace that only came when someone in his family was near. Seeing his sister safe from harm and enjoying her company was becoming an infrequent treat. Nathan opened the door for Elizabeth and Olivia to join the group. He stood and smiled politely.
And then he saw her.
He was certain his heart stopped. She smiled at him. Deliberately. Knowingly. Her smile grew. No doubt from his dull-witted reaction. He had never seen her look this way. Like a streak of moonlight.
Hair like silver, eyes like two stars. It was true. In the pale dress, with her white-blonde hair framing her face, her eyes glowed even more oddly. Not clear. Not gray. Silver. A precious silver.
He stepped closer to take her hand. A husky whisper escaped. “You look magnificent.” He lifted her hand, their eyes still engaged, and watched as the silver turned to a stormy gray. Her hand trembled, and he observed with relief that he was not the only one moved by their connection. He smiled back, then swallowed as his eyes inadvertently observed the swell of pearly white skin above her low neckline. Her dress paid tribute to parts of her that had been bound and hidden in the last couple of weeks. He was grateful for it now. He met her eyes apologetically, unable to stop his grin when the skin under inspection turned pink.
“You’re a wicked man, Stafford.” She pulled her hand away.
He grinned more broadly. “It seems I am.”
Olivia wished she could have been more nonchalant, but not many men looked at her like that in London. Hungry, possessive, admiring. She felt both giddy and powerful.
She turned to greet the others—and froze.
Samuel’s sister, as yet unnoticed by the others, was staring at her white-faced. Even her freckles paled. If Olivia hadn’t known better, she’d have guessed the woman had just been shocked. Only nothing of significance had happened in the time since she entered. “Your Grace!”
Everyone turned.
“Alex!” The duke immediately caught his wife in his arms and brought her over to the settee, sitting down with her on his lap. “Alex? Alex?” He tried to get her attention, but she simply stared at Olivia, unmoving—as if she were seeing something else.
An eerie shiver went down Olivia’s spine. She stepped forward to ask what is was, and Her Grace recoiled.
Samuel turned to her, his expression questioning. Olivia thought she might be as pale as the other woman now. “Your Grace, please. What is it?” she begged.
No answer.
“Perhaps it is the heat,” Olivia offered. The woman wore long sleeves again, and it was certainly not overly cool, despite the open windows of the bottom-floor chamber.
Finally the duchess gasped for air—as if she had been underwater too long. Her color returned. Samuel poured her some water and she sipped.
“I’m all right. Really.”
She looked better. At least conscious again, Olivia thought.
“I stood still for too long. And I’ve had a little bit of a stomachache lately. Sorry. That was incredibly silly.” She reassured her brother, but turned to Olivia, still staring unnaturally. “Forgive me, Lady Olivia. That was ill timed.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Your Grace. I have made your brother cringe at the sight of me, so I am more than accustomed to my effect on people,” Olivia admitted, grimacing.
“I cower regularly,” Nathan confessed, causing his wife to laugh and Olivia to gasp. The others laughed at Olivia. She tried to accept it graciously.
“Well,” Samuel said. “I know how you don’t like to be the center of attention, Allie, but I have something for you, and now seems as good a time as any to give it.”
Olivia watched as he brought out jewelry boxes he had hidden in a drawer nearby. She already knew what was inside. They were for his sister!
Elizabeth moved closer to see as Samuel’s sister opened the first box. Both women gave a sharp intake of breath. The duchess lifted the bracelet and fit it over her wrist. “It’s exquisite, Samuel.” Then she turned from the group and pulled up her sleeve before fitting it over her wrist. She turned back to display it, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she looked at her brother. “It fits perfectly.” She hugged him. “Thank you, Samuel.”
“Open the rest!” Elizabeth sat next to her to see the next surprise.
“Women and jewelry,” the duke said. “Good thing you’re her brother, Stafford.”
“It’s her wedding gift,” Samuel explained.
“I love getting married!” Alex said. The group laughed.
“I hope you’re not intending to do it more than once, my love.” The duke pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and her smile sparkled brilliantly.
“Of course not,” she replied. “Would you mind if I changed? I’ll be quick.”
The others nodded.
“I’ll help you.” Olivia rose to join her. “There’re likely few maids around.”
The duchess hesitated, then nodded agreement.
The women hurried to the duchess’s suite, and Olivia watched as the woman tore through clothes. “Now I don’t have anything to wear,” she complained. Olivia followed her to a trunk and caught material as it came flying at her. Finally Alex stopped on an apple green and pale brown dress with cap sleeves and scooped neckline.
“This one,” she stated. “The jewels will shine perfectl
y with these colors.”
“I concur, Your Grace.”
“You must call me Alex.”
“I cannot.” She’d responded without thinking.
“Why?”
Olivia paused. Samuel’s sister looked … hurt. “It’s just not how I was raised,” she explained. “It sounds strange. Some things are too ingrained.”
“Oh.”
Olivia suddenly felt remorseful at the woman’s confused glance. The duchess went behind a screen and switched dresses. She came out with most of her back buttoned.
“I can do that, Your Grace.” The duchess turned hesitantly, then fixed her hair over her neck to allow Olivia access. Samuel’s sister stood stiff, and Olivia thought perhaps she was a modest woman. She hadn’t accounted for that. It didn’t go along with her image as a swashbuckling female sea captain. However, nothing about this woman made sense with what she’d envisioned.
“Let me put your hair up. It will show off—”
“No!”
Her Grace spun around, protecting her hair.
Strange.
“No, thank you,” she corrected. “I like my hair down.”
“Of course.” Olivia didn’t know what to say to that, so she went to what was on her mind. “Your Grace? Tonight when I entered the dining room … it seemed as though you knew me from somewhere.”
“We’ve never met.”
“I know. I would remember it,” Olivia said. “Still, it was as if you knew me.”
The duchess paused in her toilette and spoke directly, her body still, her eyes piercing Olivia—searching, it seemed, for an answer. “I thought for a moment I did recognize you,” she said. “From a dream. And … I wondered in that moment … if we control our destiny, or destiny controls us.”
“You prefer the former.”
“I prefer a choice.” Then she laughed, her mood changing entirely. “However, I came here, so perhaps I made the wrong choice.” She shrugged. “I have been under the weather of late. Ignore my musings. They are nothing. Do you care for my brother?”
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