Siren's Song

by Trish Albright

  Alex knew by his tone, it was serious. “Okay. Give me ten minutes.”

  They met in Maggie’s study. It was unused by her aunt, and Alex had taken it over. The house was beginning to stir, and Stephen popped in to see if she wanted to go for a morning ride with him and Whitley. She shook her head, and got down to business with Birdie.

  “So?”

  Birdie laid the latest news periodicals on her desk. “A ship came in yesterday. Another American carrier, The New Yorker, with news from the continent. Yer not going to believe this.”

  “Tell me.” Alex was both excited and worried.

  “A house was broken into in Paris.”

  “That doesn’t sound unusual.”

  “Hold on, no patience for a story, have you? Listen up. This marquis guy was a collector in books of astrology and prophecies.”

  “Was?” She straightened.

  “Aye. They found him dead. Throat slit. Anyways, not much was taken. Whatever basics they could get quickly, and an old book and an ancient astrolabe. Rumor has it, they belonged to some astrologer, Nostrodamu or something,” Birdie emphasized.

  “Nostradamus?” Alex asked. She had heard of him, but only vaguely. He had been a French physician to the king. According to some reports, he often predicted the future.

  “Yeah. That might be it. Anyways, astrology. Prophecy. Astrolabe. A connection mayhap?”

  “It’s unusual.”

  “Yer not appreciating it yet, I see.” Birdie wiped a thick layer of jam over a scone. “But here’s this. The feller from The New Yorker, he thought it was not so odd at first. Until he learned that an even older relic was stolen from Alhambra Palace. In Spain,” Birdie emphasized.

  “I know where Alhambra is, Birdie.”

  He bit into the scone and chewed. “Them’s Moors,” he went on, ignoring her. “As in your Morocco Moors.” He waited for her reaction and nodded when none was forthcoming. “And I suppose you’ll want to know what was taken?”

  “I’m waiting patiently.”

  “A box.”

  “A box,” she repeated.

  “Yup.” He swallowed the rest of the scone in his mouth before continuing.

  “Anything in this box?”

  “Sure there was. Sure there was,” Birdie nodded his eyes widening. “An astrolabe. Supposedly over two thousand years old. That’s pretty old. Maybe as old as your astrolabe,” he noted. “But here’s the clincher.” He waited for a dramatic pause, then leaned forward to whisper. “It’s supposedly the key to a great treasure, protected by a devilish siren. Only, none know the location.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “Only about the devilish part,” Birdie admitted.

  “So the astrolabe is a key of some kind?” she said.

  “Could be.” Birdie sat back and spread cream on a second scone.

  “That’s it?”

  “That ain’t enough?” He bit into his breakfast with pleasure. “Just thinkin’, you got that appointment with the museum. Ya might wanta hurry.”

  “You think this is Paxton’s work?”

  “Word on the docks is that ol’ Reggie is in port. We know he likes the nice girls,” Birdie stated frankly. “The man has connections to sell the girls, so maybe that’s him in town doing his shoppin’, the bastard. The money he earns supports these other activities,” he theorized. “Chasin’ the siren. Maybe he’s learned about the astrolabe. He learned about the siren’s map right enough.”

  “Do you think it’s a siren or a mermaid?” Alex wondered. “It might make a difference.”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care. They’re both man-eaters. Ye oughta listen to yer pa’s last request and stay clear.”

  “I can’t if Paxton keeps pursuing us, Birdie.”

  Birdie swallowed the last of his second scone. “Aye. That’s a problem, ain’t it.” He took some milk and sat back. “You gonna call in your brothers, or do I need to?”

  “There’s nothing to tell them yet.”

  Birdie pressed his lips together, nodding. “Right you are.” He drank some milk before continuing. “Just some crazies looking for maps, and old astrolabes, and ancient prophecies. All o’ which you coincidently got hoarded up there in your room. Safe and sound, I’m sure. Nothin’ to worry ’bout here.”

  “You’re a pain, Birdie.”

  “Yup,” he agreed, finishing off his milk and dabbing daintily at his mouth with one of Aunt Maggie’s elegant serviettes.

  “I’ll go to London tomorrow. Meet with the curator, then send word to Samuel.” Birdie nodded again, as if that sounded like a wise plan. “I’ll send Whitley ahead when he returns. We’ll need to double the men on watch.”

  “Already done.” Birdie grinned. “An’ I told ’em all not to be yakking about company business to anyone or we’d dock their pay. It’s a good deal they have with ya.”

  Alex nodded her thanks. It seemed Paxton was gathering information about the prophecy. The frightening thing was that information existed. And likely Paxton wasn’t the only one searching for clues.

  Alex wanted justice, but mostly she wanted to stop Paxton from hurting anyone else. That terrified her the most. She swallowed the emotion and straightened her back. Too many people relied on her for her to indulge in self-pity.

  “It’s all enough to make me crazy, Birdie.”

  Stephen burst through the door just then, causing Birdie and Alex to jump up nervously. Guiltily. “Did I hear you finally admit to being crazy?”

  “You heard no such thing. And you shouldn’t be eaves—” Alex stopped midsentence. Right behind Stephen was Emma, the Earl of Stonewood, Lady Margaret and the Duke of Worthington. Her attention was caught primarily by the latter. She stared at the blond giant, stunned. The last thing she expected was to see him escorting her blushing aunt into her workspace. Granted, the family inevitably ended up gathered in here since Alex was always here working, but entertaining strangers was another thing.

  “Guess who we ran into?” Stephen said by way of introduction.

  Margaret stepped in. “Such a pleasant surprise, my dear. I’m so glad Stephen was able to convince them to come by. I haven’t seen these boys in years,” Maggie explained. “This is such a treat.”

  “Boys?” Alex looked again at the massive duke and the sophisticated earl, wondering if she meant those boys. From their wry looks, she guessed it was true.

  “Your Grace, may I present my niece, Miss Alexandra Stafford from Boston. And er … her associate, Mr. Birdie. My neighbors, Joshua Leigh, Duke of Worthington, and Marcus Hampton, Earl of Stonewood.”

  “Just Birdie, ma’am.” The old man glinted with humor.

  “My pleasure.” Worthington bowed to them with an easy smile, but his eyes were fixed on Alex. She didn’t need to look at him to know it.

  Stonewood bowed as well. Emma stepped forward with less formality and took both of Birdie’s hands in greeting.

  “It’s a rare joy seein’ your purty face again, m’lady.” Birdie smiled with genuine pleasure.

  Joshua studied his prey while greetings were exchanged. She stood behind the ebony desk in a plain, green day dress. Not quite as tall as he remembered. Her hair was folded in a simple plait that fell over her left shoulder. The sunlight behind her caught the reddish gold highlights as she quickly but methodically folded some papers that were on her desk, then secreted them away in a drawer. Clearly they had come upon her during a serious discussion. He’d caught a look of concerned determination in her expression, and something else. Worry. He thought her brother had seen it as well.

  “What were you saying about being crazy?” Stephen repeated, curious.

  “Something about how your constant eavesdropping makes me crazy,” Alex turned it back on him, managing a good-natured dig.

  “Blame yourself. I learned all my spying techniques from you.”

  “Is that so?” Marcus asked.

  Alex fought the blush creeping over her skin. Great, she thought, trying not to
squirm. So much for convincing the earl her intrusion was an exception.

  “You’re even taller than I remember, Your Grace,” Maggie intervened.

  Alex watched as Worthington elegantly seated her aunt in a blue chair at the other end of the library. “You, my lady, have not changed a bit.”

  Alex smiled at that truth. Lady Margaret remained a petite figure with curly reddish brown hair liberally mixed with gray. She wore her hair in the same style as when Alex first met her as a child … something akin to a disorganized mop of curls that always looked like she just came back from a tumble in the barn.

  Kendall, the butler, and another servant entered with trays of tea and refreshments as the others took their seats. Alex sighed resentfully, realizing they were here for the duration. She would have to join them on the other side of the desk. The only open seat was next to Emma, across from the duke and earl.

  She was halfway seated when Worthington’s curious observance of the hem of her dress got her attention. She began to glare at him when she realized why he was staring. She was barefoot. The act of sitting down was about to expose her. Having no idea the extent of that social error, she jumped back up as if she had just sat on fire.

  The action drew everyone’s surprised attention.

  “I’ve been sitting all day,” she explained, glancing at the earl to see if he had caught her lack of footwear. He smiled pleasantly, appearing not to notice. She wondered if that was a skill all the blue bloods had, pretending they didn’t see what was right in front of them. Birdie took the opportunity to excuse himself.

  “Think I’ll butter up that young pretty in the kitchen for a bit o’ lunch. The cap’n here hardly ever feeds me.”

  Alex protested, “I just fed you!”

  “Aye, but you’re a taskmaster. Need me strength to keep up. Not a sympathetic bone in ya,” he teased.

  “And that ‘young pretty’ you speak of is at least fifty.”

  “That she is. A pretty baby, too. Thinkin’ I’ll be cradle snatchin, are ya?” Birdie gave the men a wicked grin.

  Alex suppressed a laugh, shaking her head at him. “We’ll see you at dinner then.”

  “Aye, lass, but if I ain’t there,” Birdie warned, “don’t come knocking on m’door, eh?”

  “Birdie!” She hoped the guests weren’t overly shocked by the conversation. Maggie was blushing. Birdie just chuckled.

  “Good luck, sir,” the duke said, as he shook the old man’s hand in farewell.

  “Ack. You boys’ll be needin’ it more than me, lad.” Birdie bowed to Emma and Lady Margaret on the way out. Alex used the distraction to collect her soft-soled shoes under the desk and slide them on.

  “Your Grace, you must catch me up on all your adventures since we last met,” Maggie insisted. “You were returning to Eton at the time. I gather you left England shortly after.”

  “I joined the employ of a Hungarian merchantman with shares in a number of ships. I worked on one of his ships until I earned captain, something that happened more through mishap than experience, I’m afraid. Our leader was killed in battle, which left me as next in line.”

  “In battle?” Margaret gasped, questioning.

  “Off the Barbary Coast.”

  “A notorious area,” Maggie commented, glancing toward Alex.

  “Quite.” Alex confirmed nonchalantly. “Few of our ships have traded in the Mediterranean or around Morocco in the last several years. The risks don’t make it entirely worthwhile. I certainly don’t have any desire to return.”

  “You’ve been there?” Stonewood inquired.

  She hesitated. “With my father. It’s several years ago now.”

  “Have you seen the area as well, Your Grace?” Stephen asked. “I’m told it’s very exotic. And what of the pirates?”

  “Did I say pirates?” Worthington teased.

  “Even I know that,” Maggie said.

  “It was a fog-infested night when they caught up to us, but we were prepared. Our captain was the only loss. A gut wound slowly took his life. We buried him at sea. Then I was the captain.”

  “You pirated?” Alex asked.

  Margaret gasped at her niece’s rude suggestion.

  Worthington grinned. “We prefer ‘privateer,’ Miss Stafford. And it’s patriotic, which I’m sure you can appreciate. We defended what was ours. Our attackers happened to have a greedy streak. What they already had, we claimed. In that way, I was somewhat fortunate.”

  “Well,” Emma said without thought of what to say next. She looked to the earl for help. He just smiled curiously, waiting for her to continue. “Well,” she said again, a little desperate. “Alex, you and His Grace have so much in common. And now you will be renovating Worthington Park, are you not, Joshua? Alex is extremely fond of the place. You must consult her on your plans. She has remarkably thorough opinions on what needs to be done.”

  “She does?” the duke asked.

  “Not really,” Alex denied.

  “I’ll say,” Stephen added. “She’s been in there enough times drawing up notes.”

  Alex blushed guiltily. “I thought it abandoned, not entailed.”

  Marcus nodded. “One of those English things.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And how did you get in?” Stonewood inquired much too innocently.

  She smiled back, equally innocent. “The cellar door leading to the kitchen is unlocked. I was concerned there could be squatters or wild animals burrowing away, else I would never presume to enter.”

  “Of course,” the earl agreed.

  “Last I had heard the duke was dead. No one thought to inform me there was another on the way.” She added that last bit pointedly toward her aunt.

  “But what a happy surprise for us all,” Maggie remarked.

  Worthington smiled. “I shall expect you to visit me regularly to consult, Miss Stafford. I am not nearly up to the task as you seem to be. May I take her away from you a bit, Lady Margaret?”

  “Why of course, Your Grace. Alexandra would be delighted to help you. And she is most efficient, I can assure you.”

  Delighted? Alex raised a brow to her aunt, wondering if she had lost her mind. “I’m very busy …” Alex began her excuses, which Worthington ignored.

  “And have you had the opportunity to survey the rest of the estate, Miss Stafford? You must have seen a bit on your rides over to visit Lady Emma. I have a wonderful lake. Quite magical actually.” He grinned wickedly as her teacup began to rattle on its saucer. “Why just the other day, I thought I saw—”

  “I have seen some of the estate,” Alex jumped in. “The land is so lovely this time of year, isn’t it?”

  “And that’s not the only thing. As I was saying, I could have sworn I saw—”

  Dear lord, he was going to expose her. Certain ruin in Emma’s eyes, not to mention the earl’s.

  Chapter Ten

  Alex jumped up in panic and said the first word she could think of to distract Worthington from shredding her reputation. “Butterflies!”

  “Butterflies?” the duke repeated.

  “Yes,” she enthused. “Butterflies! I have seen some of the most amazing butterflies of late.”

  “What about mermaids?” Worthington asked, a wicked glint in his eyes.

  “Have you seen one, Your Grace?” Maggie said.

  “Once. I thought it was a mermaid, but she swam away before I could find out.”

  “Scared off by your homely face, no doubt,” Marcus suggested.

  “Or appalling manners,” Alex grumbled quietly.

  Maggie stepped in graciously. “We must ride some morning, Your Grace. My niece and I can show you the wonderful changes she has made to the estate. Alexandra has been a godsend to me. I don’t know what I would have done without her regular visits this past year. I’m so glad Samuel assigned you the English route, dear.” Maggie explained to them, “Samuel is the eldest.”

  “Yes. Well, it seemed the safest, and I didn’t get much choic
e,” Alex explained.

  She looked up as Worthington cleared his throat meaningfully. “And of course you get the number one benefit of seeing your beloved aunt regularly.”

  Alex, horrified at her oversight, quickly jumped in. “Oh, yes. Seeing Aunt Maggie was why I suggested it would be good as well. She is like a mother to us. For many years now,”

  Alex explained. “I’m sorry, Aunt. You are much more important than a shipping route.”

  “Absolutely,” Stephen agreed before turning the conversation again. “My sister is actually very bossy, Your Grace. I would steer your horse clear of her.”

  “And Stephen is a continual delight,” Maggie added, supportively.

  “It comes naturally,” Stephen quipped back, earning some grins.

  Alex focused her attention back to Worthington. “So you were a sea captain? I met a British sea captain once.”

  “Is that so?” he said.

  She nodded. “He was quite mad.”

  Stonewood laughed out loud. “We seem to have a long way toward proving ourselves, Joshua.”

  “Oh, not you, my lord,” Alex insisted. “Emma has spoken most kindly of your character and integrity.” The earl smiled at that. She turned to Emma deliberately. “Have you decided yet if you will marry locally, or come home with me?”

  Stonewood nearly sputtered. Emma rejoined sweetly, “I am still undecided.”

  “America is very beautiful. I think you would love it.” Alex thought Stonewood was about to have a fit. She smiled inwardly and moved on. “Perhaps we could take a turn outside. I have been in this room all day and a change of scenery would certainly improve my disposition.”

  “One can only hope, my dear,” Maggie drawled wryly.

  “Yes, Aunt Maggie. Isn’t hope a powerful draw, though?” The others followed her lead outside, with Worthington offering his arm to her aunt. Alex was nearly out the door when she realized the earl and Stephen had not followed. She raced back into the study in time to catch her brother stating his case for Emma’s hand in marriage.

  “Sir, I beg you, with all sincerity, to allow me to take Emma as my wife.”

  Alex nearly burst out laughing. Instead she apologized for her brother. “I’m sorry, my lord. My brother is … um, as you can see, besotted.”