Desires of a Perfect Lady

by Victoria Alexander

  She widened her eyes and stared.

  “You needn’t look so shocked.” He grinned a boyish sort of smile, probably unused for years. “It has been my experience with dull, staid, stodgy sorts such as myself, that we either become most difficult to live with when taken out of our natural surroundings or we adapt. I have decided to adapt.”

  “Oh.” She struggled to find the right words. “How very accommodating of you.”

  “Not at all.” He laughed “I can either resent every moment of every day, or I can embrace the adventure of it all. I have chosen to embrace and enjoy.”

  Perhaps there was some of the Sterling she once knew left after all.

  “And in the spirit of the adventure, I have taken it upon myself to read something of the place we now find ourselves. My mother has brought along a number of guidebooks.” He shook his head. “It’s a shame there is no time to see the city itself. It’s quite old, you know. It has been a seaport for nearly two thousand years.”

  “Yes, I know,” she murmured.

  “The Greeks were here first, then the Romans. But the docks where we are now were only built about forty years ago, to accommodate the kind of steamship we will soon be boarding.”

  “How clever of them.”

  “Very farsighted really.” He paused. “Do you know the legend of the founding of Marseilles?”

  She bit back a smile. She wasn’t sure what had possessed him but she was grateful for it. This new Sterling was much more like the man she had once loved than the earl who had agreed to help her. Not that it mattered. “No. Do you?”

  He smiled in a smug manner. “When the Greeks first arrived here, their leader was a man named Protis. He was strong and handsome, an excellent leader and prone to adventures. Very much in the manner that oh, say, an earl, whose name I think we both know, would be today.”

  “Leader of men? Strong, handsome, and adventurous?”

  “Under the appropriate circumstances.”

  She laughed. “Goodness, Sterling. What utter nonsense.”

  He gasped with indignation. “Are you saying I could not lead men if necessary?”

  “No, not at all,” she said quickly. “I’m certain you would be an excellent leader of men.”

  “Then you are saying I am not strong?” Before she could protest, he swept her into his arms and lifted her off the deck.

  “Sterling!” She huffed. “Put me down this instant!”

  “Only if you admit I could easily carry two of you.”

  “Yes, yes, I admit it.” He set her down and released her without holding her even a moment longer than necessary. It was surprisingly annoying. “Fortunately for you, there is only one of me.”

  “Fortunately for us all.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “And as for handsome—”

  “Yes, yes, you are one of the handsomest men I have ever seen.” She smoothed her dress. “I suspect you are also a bit mad. What has gotten into you?”

  “Adventure, my dear. Now, may I continue my story?”

  She cast him a suspicious look. “With or without your own embellishments?”

  “I am simply making a good story better in the nature of all good storytellers,” he said in a superior manner. “When you tell a story, you may tell it in your own way. This is the story as I see it.” He cleared his throat. “When Protis arrived, he went to meet with the local people. As fate would have it, that was the very day the king’s daughter, Gyptis, was to be married. Well, she took one look at our hero, the strong handsome earl—”

  “I believe you mean Greek.”

  “Yes, of course. I can’t imagine what I was thinking.” Amusement twinkled in his eye. “Gyptis took one look at Protis, decided she couldn’t possibly live without him, threw over all her other suitors, and gave him her heart. And together”—he waved in a grand gesture at the shore—“they founded all this.”

  She raised a brow. “All this?”

  “Well, what would become all this.” He leaned toward her. “It’s an excellent story, don’t you think?”

  She laughed. “Yes it is. And only made better by the telling.”

  “I thought so.” He gazed at the city. “Marseilles has endured the Greeks, the Romans, plague, war, and revolution. And through all that, it has remained an excellent seaport.”

  “One would expect no less of a city founded on a love story.”

  “My sentiments exactly.” He paused for a moment. “Pity we have no time to appreciate it. We have barely two hours before we sail.”

  “Oh dear, then we should go.” She glanced around. “Have you seen your mother and Josiah?”

  “They said they would meet us aboard.” He offered his arm. “Might I have the honor of escorting you off this ship and onto the next?”

  “You may.” She took his arm, and a delightful chill shivered through her. He hadn’t done more than offer her a polite hand to assist her in or out of a carriage since the day he had told her she had been his only adventure. It was oddly pleasant to be on his arm. To feel the strength of his muscles beneath his coat and the warmth of his body brushing against hers.

  He escorted her off the ship and along the docks, pointing out ancient fortresses overlooking the harbor and a cathedral in the distance.

  “You have become quite an accomplished tour guide.”

  He flashed her a quick grin. “Just one of my many hidden talents.”

  “Along with being a leader of men?”

  He laughed. “Don’t forget strong and handsome.”

  “Oh, I could never forget that.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “I am most impressed.”

  He tucked her hand close against him. “And you are flirting with me.”

  She gasped in mock dismay. “Don’t be absurd.”

  “You need practice.” He paused. “At least with me.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “When you flirt with me it seems an effort.” He smiled down at her. “However, when you flirt with Josiah, it is completely natural.”

  She stopped in midstep and stared at him. “I do not flirt with Josiah.”

  He snorted. “You most certainly do.”

  She pulled her brows together in indignation. “I most certainly do not. Aside from any number of other considerations, he’s merely a boy.”

  “Scarcely.” He tucked her hand back into the crook of his arm and started off again. “He is twenty-two years of age, and is furthermore a competent responsible man with a serious profession.”

  “Regardless, I do not flirt with him.”

  “Oh, Josiah.” He adopted a high-pitched voice and heaved a heartfelt sigh. “You are so good at taking care of every little detail. Why I don’t know what we would do without you.”

  She gasped. “I never said anything of the sort!”

  He cast her a skeptical glance.

  “Admittedly, I may have complimented him on his efficiency, but I never . . .”

  Sterling bit back a grin.

  “Well . . . perhaps, but I certainly didn’t intend to.” She huffed. “Why, I wouldn’t think of . . .”

  “He is smitten with you, you know.”

  “Nonsense,” she lied. “It’s your mother he adores.”

  “Perhaps, but only as a mother.” He sighed again in a dramatic manner. “Would that you would flirt so easily with me.”

  “I am out of practice,” she said under her breath.

  “Then we should do something about that.” He smiled. “You are an eminently eligible widow now, and you may wish to marry again one day.”

  “I have no desire ever to marry again.”

  He ignored her. “Flirting is a skill that will serve you well. And I am willing to suffer your attempts to improve.”

  She stared. “How very gracious of you.”

  “It’s the least I can do for a friend.” He patted her hand. “And we did agree to be friends, did we not?”

  “Yes we did, but—”

  “By the time we return
to London, you will be prepared to charm even the most reluctant of suitors.”

  They reached the gangway of their new ship and started up. The packet they’d taken to Marseilles was considerably smaller than the ship they now boarded.

  Sterling inclined his head toward her. “I understand this ship has a grand dining room and dancing in the evening.”

  “What? No more whist?” Their party had played whist on very nearly every evening thus far. And while it had been enjoyable, it was beginning to tire.

  “Oh, we shall certainly play whist, and charades as well.” He grinned. “And we shall dance.” He paused. “I haven’t danced for some time. I quite look forward to it.”

  “As do I.” Even as the words were out of her mouth, she realized she did very much wish to dance again in Sterling’s arms.

  Once on board, they were directed to their cabins. Sterling escorted her to her door.

  She paused before her cabin and drew a deep breath. “Would you care to come in and see my accommodations?”

  “That would be most improper.” He smiled. “Even for a friend.”

  The vaguest hint of disappointment stabbed her. “Of course.”

  “However.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I shall be on deck when we pull out of port if you wish to join me.” He released her hand, and, again, a sense of disappointment washed through her. “I want to see the Ile d’If as we pass by. Somehow, I missed it on our approach.”

  “The what?”

  “The island in the harbor.”

  She thought for a moment. “The one with the castle?”

  He nodded. “Fortress really, built to provide protection against invaders. But it soon became a prison. It still is, I think. Its most famous prisoner never actually resided there.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “This is some sort of trick isn’t it?”

  He laughed. “Not at all. The island is where Edmond Dantès was imprisoned for fourteen years.”

  “Yes, of course.” She rolled her gaze heavenward. She had loved The Count of Monte Cristo as a girl. As an adult, she hadn’t found the story of the man falsely imprisoned and kept from the woman he loved to her liking. “I can’t believe I didn’t remember that. Although he wasn’t really imprisoned there as he was fictional.”

  “Ah, but I’m told.” He glanced one way then the other down the corridor, and lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “The hole where he made his escape can still be seen.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then laughed. “You can’t see the place where a prisoner who never existed escaped. It is no doubt nothing more than a lure for romantic, unsuspecting tourists.”

  “And I”—he swept a dramatic bow—“can be quite romantic.” He grinned. “In a literary sense, that is.”

  She laughed. “I shall join you on deck in an hour or so then.”

  “I shall look forward to it.” He nodded and strolled down the corridor, a jaunty spring to his step. Jaunty? Sterling?

  What had gotten into the man? She opened her door and stepped into her cabin, barely noting the stylish furnishings. In recent days, Sterling had become an entirely new person. He did indeed seem to be enjoying their journey. And she was enjoying him. Why the man was even willing to play parlor games.

  She sank down on her bed. This wasn’t the same Sterling who had insisted her father’s concerns had made her his responsibility. Who had placed guards in her household. Who had initially refused to go to Egypt. He was neither stiff nor stodgy, and certainly not dull. Why, almost overnight he had become an entirely new man.

  Good God! He wasn’t a new man at all. This was the Sterling she had once fallen in love with. The Sterling she had given her heart to. The Sterling who had haunted her dreams. And nothing was as dangerous as that.

  She could resist the sober, proper Earl of Wyldewood, who carried the weight of his responsibilities on his shoulders. Could she resist the carefree Sterling Harrington, whose eyes twinkled with amusement and smile settled in her heart so easily?

  Worse, with every day spent in his company, would she reach a point where she no longer wished to resist?

  Ten

  Converse with natives on the American frontier.

  From the secret list of desires of Olivia Rathbourne

  Sterling was as good as his word. The man had become bloody charming and damn near irresistible.

  Olivia watched him dance with a young American passenger—a Miss Johnson she thought—and tried very hard to ignore how irritating she found the scene before her. The girl—the very pretty girl—was obviously flirting with him, and he was obviously enjoying it. She clenched her jaw. Not that she cared. He could flirt his way from Marseilles to Egypt and back for all she cared. Even so, he could be enjoying himself a bit less.

  The room set aside for dancing and card playing and other activities of amusement was not overly large but was nicely appointed and well suited for the numbers of first-class passengers it served. The ship itself was fairly new, and Olivia had been told that it rivaled anything sailing the North Atlantic between Europe and America. How exciting it would be to be on a ship sailing that route. Someday, she vowed, she would be.

  Sterling had become quite a sought-after dancing partner and, no doubt, the handful of eligible women on the ship saw him as potentially something much more permanent. In the three days they’d been on the ship, Olivia had not had the opportunity to share more than a dance or two each evening with him. Certainly there were other men aboard although the majority did seem to be considerably older, which suited Millicent. She too appeared to be having an excellent time. Not that Olivia had any lack of eager partners, and she scarcely ever sat out a dance. Why there was that nice Austrian gentleman, and the French count, and the American ambassador to somewhere or other. They were all quite pleasant although, admittedly, Sterling was an excellent dancer and considerably more handsome and dashing. And annoying.

  “Lady Rathbourne, would you care to dance,” Josiah said with a hopeful smile on his face. No matter what she said, the young man refused to address her by her given name.

  She cast him a grateful smile. “I should like nothing better.”

  The small orchestra was playing a waltz. Josiah escorted Olivia onto the floor and he took her in his arms in a most proper and correct manner. Ever since Sterling had made his absurd assertion that Josiah harbored feelings of affection for her, Olivia had gone out of her way to treat the young man with a certain amount of reserve. And there had been no flirting whatsoever, at least so far as she could tell. As she hadn’t thought she’d been flirting with him in the first place, she couldn’t be sure. But she certainly did not want to encourage him in anything more than a good sound friendship.

  Still, she did enjoy dancing, and it had been years since she’d danced at all. Even then it was only with partners selected by her late husband. When she had appeared at public events with the viscount, he had made certain she had known with which partners it would be in his best interest for her to dance. Very early in her married life, she had decided not to dance at all rather than with gentlemen who might prove useful to her late husband. There was a time when she had lived in fear that having bartered her hand on the dance floor, he might barter her in other ways to further his own ends. She needn’t have worried. He was far too possessive to share this particular possession.

  Josiah executed a turn, and she followed him rather well considering that she was as out of practice at dancing as she was at flirtation. Coupled with the fact that Josiah’s dancing was more enthusiastic than skilled, she was forced to concentrate on her own movements to avoid his feet stepping on hers, which had happened more than once on previous nights.

  Josiah gazed down at her. “You seem rather preoccupied tonight, Lady Rathbourne.”

  “Do I?” She smiled up at him. She would never offend him by an honest assessment of his proficiency on the dance floor. “No doubt it’s simply because we are drawing ever closer to Egypt, and I hav
e no idea what will transpire there.”

  His brows drew together in concern. “Are you apprehensive then?”

  “Not apprehensive exactly.” She thought for a moment. “Oddly enough, I am rather optimistic. But, then, I have never had an adventure before, and I find everything to be most exciting.” She smiled. “And I have come this far after all. Against all probability, I suspect.”

  He chuckled. “Admittedly, Mr. Hollis never imagined you would choose to attempt to meet the terms of the will.”

  She laughed. “I daresay he must have had some choice words to say about it in the privacy of your offices.”

  A blush washed up the young man’s face. “He did express, shall we say, surprise at your decision after the meeting in your library. He fully expected you to be quite content with the allowance provided you by the estate and more than happy to continue your life as you had when your husband was alive.” He paused. “I must confess, I have never seen his face quite so red or heard him use language even remotely as colorful.”

  “And what of you, Josiah? Were you surprised?”

  “Not after I had met you,” he said without pause, then winced. “My apologies, that sounded rather presumptuous of me.”

  “Not at all, I thought it sounded honest.”

  The solicitor’s expression relaxed.

  “Do tell me why you weren’t surprised once we had met.”

  He thought for a moment as if choosing his words. “I would prefer not to offend you.”

  “I am not easily offended.”

  “I thought your late husband was a beast of a man,” Josiah blurted. “Not that I had many direct dealings with him. But he struck me as cold and unfeeling and, well, cruel. Although I have nothing really to base that on save my knowledge of his business affairs and the occasional meeting. I imagined his wife to be . . . not at all like you.”

  She raised a brow. “Not like me?”

  “I thought the Viscountess Rathbourne would be a timid sort of creature, well used to obeying the commands of her husband without question. Even in death. I expected the viscount to have a wife he had chosen for the benefits of an alliance with her family or for her fortune and therefore not to be the least bit lovely and charming and gracious.” He grimaced. “Again, my apologies. I should not be so forthright. Do forgive me.”