The Magic of You

by Johanna Lindsey

  “Along our major trade routes we do.”

  “And what of ports not along those particular routes? Surely your captains have experience in acquiring cargoes on their own.”

  Warren donned his shirt and coat, every ache and muscle screaming for him to slow down. He didn’t. He’d heard enough already to guess where Anthony was leading, and he wanted an end to it.

  “Let’s just cut to the sum and substance of this little discussion, shall we?” he suggested. “I’m not leaving your country any time soon. That’s been established. It’s not going to change. Now, I’ve given you and your brother all the assurances I can about your niece. I’m even avoiding my sister so I can avoid her. What more do you want?”

  With those dark, satanic looks, Anthony could make his scowl downright chilling when he turned as serious as he did now. “We don’t want to see the chit get hurt, Anderson. We really wouldn’t like that.”

  Warren drew the wrong conclusion. “You aren’t suggesting I marry her?” he asked, appalled.

  “Good God, never think so,” Anthony was quick to assure him, just as appalled by that idea. “But it stands to reason, don’t it, that the sooner you’re gone, the sooner she forgets about you.”

  And the sooner Warren could forget about her. “I’d like nothing better, but I can’t.”

  Anthony gave up for the moment, grumbling, “Why the bloody hell did you have to be left behind?”

  Warren offered a shrug. “None of us wanted the task, but I volunteered for it.”

  “What the deuce for?”

  Warren was damned if he knew. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Well, you’d best hope that decision doesn’t come back to haunt you.”

  It was Anthony’s last remarks that did the haunting as Warren rode back to the Albany. Why had he made that decision? It wasn’t at all like him. It had surprised every one of his brothers. And Amy had already declared herself, though only minutes before. Perhaps he hadn’t believed her then. Perhaps he had.

  He was still worrying over it as he walked down the hallway toward his room and came face-to-face with the Chinese warlord whom he’d last seen in a dingy gambling den in Canton, and who’d later sent two dozen of his minions after Clinton and Warren with the express intent of ending their days. Zhang Yat-sen in London? Impossible, yet here he was, dressed in his formal mandarin silk robes, which he always wore to do business or travel in.

  Warren’s shock wore off just as Zhang’s began, the man finally recognizing Warren, too. Instantly, Zhang reached for a sword that wasn’t there. Warren was glad it wasn’t there, since swords were not his specialty by any means. And considering that wherever Yat-sen went, his deadly bodyguards weren’t far behind. Warren decided it would be prudent to get the hell out of there, which was exactly what he did. He’d have to send someone back to settle his bill and collect his things, but he was damned if he was returning to the Albany with that mad Chinaman in residence.

  Christ, he still couldn’t believe Zhang Yat-sen was in London. The man despised foreigners, did business with them in Canton only because it was highly profitable, had nothing to do with them otherwise. And for those few he dealt with, his contempt was manifest. So why would he subject himself to thousands of them by leaving the isolation of his small world where his power was absolute—as long as it didn’t draw the Emperor’s notice?

  Only a fabulous amount of money could have lured him here—or a personal matter. And Warren could be as modest as he liked, but he had the unpleasant feeling that that damned antique vase he and Clinton had come away with from Canton was that personal matter.

  A family heirloom, Zhang had called it when he’d offered it as the stakes in the game of chance he and Warren had played. Warren had covered the bet with his ship, which was what Zhang had been after and what had led Zhang into that gambling den, which he would never have frequented otherwise. Zhang wanted Warren’s ship for two reasons: one, because he had made the decision to have his own fleet of merchantmen so he wouldn’t have to deal personally with foreigners anymore; and two, because he had a personal dislike for Warren, who never bothered to be deferential enough in his presence, and he hoped the loss of Warren’s ship would end Warren’s trips to Canton.

  Zhang lost the vase, however, and if Warren hadn’t been a bit drunk that night, he might have noticed that the loss didn’t affect Zhang in the least, because he fully expected to have his property back by morning—along with Warren’s head, most likely. He’d gotten neither. Warren and Clinton’s crews coming to their rescue that night on the docks. But they’d made a powerful enemy in the bargain, which put an abrupt end to their lucrative China trade route.

  Warren and Clinton, who’d most often taken that route, didn’t particularly regret its loss. Those voyages had been too long in length, keeping them away from home for years at a time. Warren didn’t particularly like the English trade that was going to take its place, either—the war years and the bitterness engendered from them were hard to forget, as was the scar on his cheek from a British saber. But Georgina was here—unfortunately—and as long as they were all going to be visiting her periodically, anyway, they might as well take advantage of the profits to be made here.

  Warren had been outvoted, at any rate, on setting up a London office. But he’d been downright stupid to volunteer to stay behind to get it started. And now he had a serious enemy in London—besides his in-laws—who would take infinite pleasure in chopping his head off. As his brother-in-law would say, bloody hell.

  Chapter 27

  Amy was getting rather frantic. Nearly a week had gone by since she had last seen Warren at that momentous ball. She’d been so certain he wouldn’t stay away this time, but that was exactly what he was doing. And Uncle James hadn’t said another word to her about him. Neither had Georgina. Those two were both going about their business as if they had no further concerns over her determination to win Warren, which worried Amy no end. Did they know something she didn’t? Had Warren changed his plans and left England already?

  The last worry took her straight to Warren’s sister to demand, “Where is he? Have you heard from him? Has his ship sailed?”

  Georgina was going over the household accounts in her sitting room. She had resumed most of her duties by now, which only left Amy with more time to worry.

  She put down her pen now and inquired, “I assume you mean Warren?” Amy just glowered in answer. “Yes, that was a silly question, wasn’t it? And no, Warren hasn’t sailed yet. He’s keeping quite busy, though, hiring and training staff for the new office.”

  That sounded reasonable, more than reasonable. “Just work? Nothing else?”

  “What did you think?”

  “That he was avoiding me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Georgina said. “But he probably is doing that as well.”

  “Have you heard from him?”

  “He sends a note by every so often.”

  Georgina would have liked to say more, to offer some hope, but that rascal brother of hers was avoiding her as well. She was in agreement now that Amy was the perfect choice for Warren, but she probably shouldn’t have admitted that to James. His reaction hadn’t been pleasant. In fact, he’d told her that if she helped Amy in any way, he’d divorce her. Not that she believed that for a minute, but for him to say it, she figured he’d be angrier with her than she cared to experience if she went against him on this.

  So for the time being, she wasn’t going to do anything. Amy would have to continue the campaign as she’d begun, on her own. But Georgina’s prayers were with her.

  “Where is the new Skylark office, anyway?” Amy suddenly asked.

  “Near the docks, where it’s not safe for you to go, so don’t even think about it.”

  Actually, Amy didn’t want to see Warren in that environment, with his employees about. She’d merely been curious. But Georgina’s answer got her thinking along other lines.

  Georgina, however, noted her tho
ughtful look. “You aren’t to go there, Amy,” she stressed.

  “I won’t.”

  “You promise?”

  “Absolutely.”

  But Amy wasn’t going to promise not to seek Warren out elsewhere, and that left only one place she knew of where to find him: his hotel. Fortunately, there was no danger in her going there, unlike her excursion to The Hell and Hound. Warren was staying at a respectable hotel in a very respectable part of town. Amy and her mother had even had lunch there on more than one occasion.

  Of course, Amy had never been there alone or in the evening, which was the logical time she could hope to find Warren there. But there was still nothing scandalous in that. Her problem would be sneaking in and out of the house again, especially now that Georgina was no longer spending her evenings confined to her bedroom.

  Actually, there was one other problem. She couldn’t remember what his room number was. Drew had mentioned it the night they had all come to dinner, when he’d teased Boyd about forgetting his own number. They all had had rooms on the second floor. Well, if she couldn’t recall it by the time she got there, she’d just have to knock on every door. Asking at the desk was out of the question, as that would turn the seemingly innocent into the positively scandalous.

  Amy wasted no time in agonizing over whether or not she should go. The idea had taken hold and wouldn’t be dismissed. But she gave considerable thought to what she was going to say to Warren when she showed up at his door. A simple hello just wouldn’t do. “I figured you were due for another adventure,” had some merit, though she leaned more toward simple honesty in reminding him that she’d promised to come to him if he continued to completely ignore her.

  She also devoted a great deal of time to her appearance, but then, she had a lot of time to kill, waiting for her aunt and uncle to retire. The day dress with matching spencer of an aqua hue wasn’t at all flashy to draw notice to her, but she removed the lace insert at the bodice, giving the dress a deeper décolletage than she usually sported. Certainly nothing Warren hadn’t seen before, but he’d never seen it on her.

  The extra ammunition was called for, in her opinion. Warren wasn’t likely to agree, but she had to do something to crack his stubborn streak. He did want her. She just had to make him forget for a while that marriage was involved. ’Course, her preparations would prove useless if she couldn’t get inside his room, and there was a very real possibility that he’d simply slam the door shut once he saw her. She wondered if she ought to wear her riding boots and stick her foot in the door…

  She arrived at the Albany Hotel just after one in the morning. Warren had certainly had enough time to do any tomcatting he was going to do during the evening, and to be in bed by now. An unpleasant thought coupled with a pleasant one—she pushed both from her mind and hurried up the stairs to the second floor.

  The two people she’d passed in the lobby, both hotel employees, had barely noticed her, probably assuming she was a guest returning to her room, which was what she had hoped for. No questions. She’d have enough of those to answer in just a few moments.

  She had remembered his room number. She paused when she finally stood before the door. The thought that he was going to be in bed, asleep, returned with a vengeance. Would that be to her advantage? If she could tempt him before he fully woke up…her heart started slamming against her ribs. Tonight, it was going to happen tonight…

  She knocked smartly on the door, to make sure the sound would rouse him. She wasn’t expecting the door to be yanked open immediately, along with four other doors in the nearby vicinity. Her cheeks started glowing brightly for causing such a turnout of guests, but her embarrassment turned abruptly to surprised confusion when she glanced both left and right to see only short Oriental men crowding into the hallway, and in front of her, still another one.

  “Sorry,” she got out, just before she was yanked into what should have been Warren’s room.

  She was let go, but the door was closed behind her. She turned to face the little culprit—he was no taller than she—only to find there were two of them. The other was standing to the opposite side of the door. Had they been guarding it? Was that why it had opened so quickly? And the other doors? Had those men been guarding something, too? Good God, what had she blundered into?

  These people must have secured the entire floor for their use, which meant that Warren was probably on a different floor, that the management must have asked him to change rooms to accommodate this crowd. Now, how was she supposed to find him without questioning the desk clerk?

  “I believe I’ve—”

  “Be quiet, lady.”

  “But I’ve made—”

  “Be quiet, lady.” She was interrupted by the same fellow again, with more insistence.

  Her indignation rose abruptly. Amy was about to blast the fellow with it when an Oriental dialect was barked from the bed in a tone even more indignant than hers would have been. Amy glanced that way to see still another man, sitting up. He was young—or maybe not. It was hard to tell. He wore a white silk sacklike thing that covered him from neck to below the covers. An extremely long black braid had fallen over one shoulder. He had sounded angry, but black eyes were fixed on Amy with apparent interest.

  She tore her own eyes away from him to turn back to the chap who’d been so rude. “Look, I’m sorry I woke him,” she whispered. “But could I leave now? I’ve obviously made a mistake.”

  Her answer came from the bed, though she couldn’t understand a word of it. And she was too embarrassed to look in that direction again. Whoever the man was, she’d disturbed his sleep. He was still in bed. The situation was highly improper, no doubt about it.

  The little man who’d been so rude deigned to talk to her again. “I am Li Liang, lady. I am to speak for my lord. You are looking for the American captain?”

  Amy blinked. They couldn’t possibly be part of Warren’s crew, could they? No, the idea was too absurd. But maybe they knew where he’d been moved to, which would save her a trip to the desk clerk.

  “Do you know Captain Anderson?” she asked.

  “He is known to us, yes,” Li Liang replied. “He is also known to you?”

  The truth or a lie, and if a lie, husband or fiancé? They didn’t know her. She’d never see them again where whatever she said now could be disproved. A lie, then, to save her from even more embarrassment.

  “He is my fiancé.” Well, he would be.

  Something else came from the lord in the bed before Li Liang said, “It pleases us greatly to know this. You may tell us where to find him.”

  Amy sighed, thinking she was back to having to face the desk clerk. “I was just going to ask you that. This was his room, as I’m sure you’re aware. I suppose he was moved to another floor.”

  “He is no longer sleeping in this hotel.”

  “He’s changed hotels?” Then she said, more to herself, “Now, why didn’t his sister tell me that?”

  “You know his family?”

  She noted the excitement in his voice now, but couldn’t determine the cause. “Certainly I know his family. His sister is married to my uncle.”

  The lord in the bed was heard from again. Li Liang said, “This pleases us even more.”

  “All right, I give up. Why am I making you so happy?”

  She didn’t get an answer, but another question instead. “The sister will know where to find the captain?”

  “I’m sure she will,” Amy grumbled. “And she would have saved me a good deal of trouble if she’d bothered to mention it. Now I’ll be off and let your lord get back to sleep. I apologize again for disturbing him.”

  “You cannot leave, lady.”

  Amy drew herself up stiffly. That gave her an added inch on the little fellow, and superior height went side by side with arrogance. Obviously the man didn’t know English as well as he thought he did.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He tried again. “You will remain here until the captain joins us.�
�

  That threw her off. “You’re expecting him? Well, why didn’t you say so?”

  Li Liang looked chagrined now. “We expect him to come once he knows you are here. First he must be told.”

  “Oh. Well, run along and do so. I suppose I can wait a little while,” she allowed. ’Course, seeing him in this crowd wasn’t what she’d had in mind. “On second thought, I believe I can wait to see him some other time.”

  She took a step toward the door. Both of the little men moved to stand in front of it.

  Amy’s eyes narrowed. “Did I say it too quickly for you? You didn’t comprehend?”

  “We require that you send a message to the captain’s sister so that she will inform him of your whereabouts.”

  “The devil you do. Disturb Aunt George at this time of night? My uncle wouldn’t like that, and he’s not the kind of man you’d care to have displeased with you.”

  “My lord’s displeasure is also to be feared.”

  “I’m sure it is, but this is something that can certainly wait for a decent hour,” she said reasonably. “Or aren’t you aware that it’s the middle of the night?”

  “Time is of no importance.”

  “How fortunate for you, but the rest of us live our lives by the clock. No deal, Mr. Liang.”

  He lost patience. “You will comply or—”

  A spate of that Oriental dialect cut him off. Amy glanced toward the bed again. The lord was still there, still in that same half-reclining position, but there was nothing pleasant about his expression.

  Amy said hesitantly, “Maybe someone ought to explain what this is all about.”

  The lord answered her, though it was Li Liang who translated the words. “I am Zhang Yat-sen. The American stole a family treasure of mine.”

  “Stole it?” Amy said doubtfully. “That doesn’t sound like Warren at all.”

  “Regardless of how he came by it, I am dishonored until it is returned.”

  “Couldn’t you have just asked him for it?”