A Lady's Luck

by Maggie Dallen

  His gaze met hers. “Someone ought to.”

  Why not you? The words were there, on her tongue, but she bit them off. Even in jest, they were dangerous. There was something here between them, that much was clear. It was physical and it was powerful, but it was not romance. It could never be romance. He clearly wanted no part of her and her intrigues, and she had sworn off marriage years ago.

  She gave him a coy smile. “I suppose I ought to thank you for sending those gentlemen my way.”

  His brows hitched up in surprise. “Oh?” Suspicion filled his eyes, along with what she swore was a flicker of jealousy. “So you have decided it is time to marry, after all?”

  She laughed. “Of course not. But that does not mean I don’t have a use for them.”

  His eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer. They were out of view of the party inside. That alone would have ruined her if discovered, but what she alluded to…well, she was crossing a line even she hadn’t thought to cross. “You wouldn’t,” he said.

  It was too tempting. His veiled threat—the promise of retaliation, it called to her. It was a dare and she could not resist. “Wouldn’t what?” she said, teasing. “Take a lover?”

  He growled and she shivered in response. She leaned in as well, until she could feel his breath against her cheek. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  He let out another low, rumbling growl before pulling her to him and kissing her. For all her talk, she was inexperienced. She’d never even been kissed. Heat coursed through her, and her body burst into flames at the feel of his hard body pressed to hers. His lips were warm and firm, and they moved over her with a powerful confidence that left her gasping for air.

  He took advantage, sliding his tongue between her parted lips and claiming her mouth as though he had every right. It was as though she belonged to him and him alone. When he finally released her, she fought to catch her breath, her gaze colliding with his. He seemed as shocked as she, as if he hadn’t meant to kiss her. Maybe he was shocked by its intensity. This, she knew, was not like any other kiss. This man was like none she’d ever met.

  “Go back inside,” he said with an air of command in his voice. “Gossip with your friends, and flirt with the gentlemen who only see that artful smile and your perfect façade. Go ahead and toy with the ton, and place bets while hiding behind your brother.” He leaned in close and she saw that the fiery passion in his gaze had turned to fury. “But steer clear of me and my family.”

  She blinked in the face of his anger, but she held her chin up high. “Or what?”

  He shook his head. “You’re playing with fire, Henri.”

  It was the use of her nickname that made her heart beat faster. For the life of her, she could not tell if she was drawn to him or repelled, if she wanted to fight him or throw herself into his arms. Her head was still spinning from the kiss, but she managed to keep her voice even and her smile smug. “Then it is a good thing I am made of ice, Alistair.”

  Despite her overwhelming urge to retreat to her home, Henri dutifully stayed, rustling her skirts as she made her way through the ballroom. Her encounter with Alistair had left her shaken, though the last thing she wanted was for him to see that. Therefore, she had to mingle and leave with her head held high.

  It took only a matter of minutes before she was again approached by a gentleman, but this time, she did not find his attention completely unwelcome. It was not his looks nor his charm, but his position. He was not an earl or a duke. No, he was much more useful. When Admiral Oliver Lonnegan approached, she flashed her most alluring smile and lowered her eyes as if playing coy.

  Lonnegan was an older man, and did not hold a title beyond his rank as admiral from his days in service of the crown. However, he was welcome in polite society as he held friendships with many titled families. He was not necessarily a handsome fellow, but he was not unseemly either. Henri did not fancy him in any way, but she knew an opportunity when she saw one. If anyone knew what was going on with Alistair’s family, it was he. He’d made a living working at sea and knew far more than she about the shipping industry, of that she was certain.

  “Lady Henrietta,” he said, offering her a smart bow. “You seem flush. May I offer you a refreshment?”

  Henri narrowed her eyes as she studied him for a moment. “I fear it is quite stuffy in here. And please, call me Henri.”

  “Henri, then.” His smile was one of surprise at her boldness. They had met before but had hardly become so well acquainted as to be on an intimate given name basis.

  But then, there was a time and place for modesty—and this was not it.

  He offered his arm. “May I escort you to the balcony for some air? I see our hostess is out there with her husband; it would be quite proper.”

  Inwardly, Henri rolled her eyes. Proper. How exceedingly dull that sounded. But her smile was genuine as she murmured her assent and took his proffered arm.

  He could not have offered a better solution. She needed to have this man’s ear, if only for a few minutes. The game she played with Alistair was about to get more dangerous, there was no doubt about that. A man with secrets was a man with something to protect, which meant he was a man to be reckoned with.

  She was in too far now to back down, even if she wanted to, which she did not. Backing down was not in her personality. No, what she needed was to get the upper hand, and she needed information to do it.

  The admiral was taller than she. He smiled down at her. His smile was pleasant and friendly. “I’ll pass on the drink, but some air would be lovely.”

  Once outside, Henri exchanged pleasantries with their hosts, and then stepped away, fully hoping her conversation with the admiral would be private.

  “Please tell me more about yourself,” she said, batting her lashes at him. She rolled her eyes at herself when he was not looking. Being this straightforward was not her typical method for investigating. On top of that, she simply wasn’t much of a flirt and had no stomach for it. However, she had to use every opportunity to learn more about Alistair’s family. After a rather lengthy discourse on the good admiral’s career in the navy, the topic finally turned to something useful when he mentioned that his current work had him overseeing the docks.

  She blinked in surprise. “That hardly seems to be a place for a man of your rank and standing.”

  He grinned, clearly pleased. “No, perhaps not. But London is my home now, or at least it will be once I retire from the military.” His gaze met hers directly. “At that point I hope to find myself a wife and start a family.”

  She forced her smile to remain in place, as though she could not pick up on his less than subtle meaning. Polite and stupid, that was her. “And at that point you wish to use your experience to work for the port authorities?”

  He tipped his chin down. “A man like me never truly retires, you know. Besides, that port is in worse condition than it’s ever been.” He shook his head in dismay.

  She licked her lips as she tried to think of a way to bring up Colefax and his family’s business. A part of her feared that her prying would only serve to extend this tedious conversation even longer.

  “There must be some pressure to make the docks safe,” she said. “What with the high-standing families who’ve invested in shipping fleets, and all that.”

  He made a hmph noise that hinted at derision. “Oh yes, even the most polished families have dipped their toes in those waters.”

  “With shipping,” she guessed.

  “And privateering,” he added. “That’s a lucrative business, you know.”

  And just like that it fell into place. Without even having to mention the Colefax name, she had her answer. Privateering. Was that the secret his family was keeping?

  Her chest deflated with disappointment. While it might be something a proud man such as Colefax might not want bandied as common knowledge, it was hardly the scandal she had been seeking.

  The admiral did not seem to notice that her interest in the conversation had
waned significantly.

  “But it’s not the pressure from above that has me taking an interest in our port, Henri.” His voice held a note of condescension that made her bristle. He leaned in as though letting her in on a secret. “Far worse dangers exist, I fear. There is suspected criminal activity that needs to be ousted once and for all.”

  She tried to look impressed but feared she failed. “Isn’t there always?”

  Everyone had heard about the gangs that roamed the docks and stole from the cargo ships. This was hardly news.

  “Most assuredly,” he said. “But this is different. There’ve been sightings of a notorious pirate ship heading our way.”

  She blinked at him. Surely he was exaggerating to impress her. “Pirates?” she repeated. “Surely they are not a problem in this day and age.”

  His thick brows rose and she pressed her lips together in annoyance at his superior air. “One would think, but they still do cause trouble, though not typically in these parts.”

  “I see,” she said. She did see. He was trying to impress her, the poor fool. Really. Talk of pirates as if to entertain a child.

  His brows drew down to a solemn frown and he dropped his voice to a low murmur. “I fear this new activity might be tied to a prominent family.”

  “Oh?” Her interest was officially piqued again. Henri did not miss the way he glanced around him, as if hoping no one else could hear them. “Which family?”

  “That I cannot say,” he said with a sigh. “Certainly the unseemly will always operate outside the confines of propriety, but this feels different. There’s a band of pirates out there who seem to have private funding and inside information that could only be coming from above, if you know what I mean.”

  Her heartbeat quickened because, yes, indeed she did understand his meaning. Of course, it was hardly evidence. It was by no means enough to lord over an enemy. But it was something. And more than that, it energized some part of her—that same intuition she’d relied on earlier. The instincts that told her when a man had secrets or when a bet was ready to be made.

  “Tell me more about the docks,” she said, simpering now, hoping against hope that he would take her quickened breathing to be a sign of another type of excitement altogether. “It must be dangerous there. I find the area quite intriguing.”

  The admiral wiped his brow with a handkerchief and his whole demeanor shifted to one of paternal concern. “Oh no, the docks are no place for a lady such as yourself. There are all sorts of criminals down there.”

  “I fear that is true,” she said, frustration flaring with the direction of the conversation. The admiral was no different than the rest, treating her as if such matters were too much for her dainty mind. “I’ve taken an interest in doing some charity work at the orphanage down there. If there is a particular danger I should worry about, I’d be interested in hearing more.”

  “I see,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Surely you have an escort when you go in that direction?”

  “Of course,” she said. She so hated when ladies hid their faces behind fans as if overwhelmed with such subjects, but for the first time, she wished she’d had the gumption to do so without feeling trite and ridiculous. If anything, her expression might give away her irritation. “My brother takes his duties seriously.”

  “Still, these pirates would not hesitate to…hurt you, my lady.”

  Henri did not miss the growl in his voice. “You certainly seem upset.”

  “I take my duties seriously, and I’ll admit that I take personal affront at their presumption. There’ve even been sightings of the crew along the Thames.” He puffed up his chest. “To think of the gall, showing up in London while they steal and raid out there at sea. They’ve no sense of decency, this crew.”

  She pressed on, hoping to steer the conversation back to the interesting bits. “If perhaps a prominent family does have dealings with pirates… Why, that would be quite a scandal. Don’t you think?” She spoke sweetly while her mind spun with wild theories and speculation.

  It all seemed rather farfetched, really. She knew Colefax held secrets, but this? It was one thing to hide some family embarrassment, like a bastard child or sibling, but it was quite another to engage in something so criminal.

  “It would indeed be scandalous,” he agreed with a frown. “Though that is not my concern. I detest the lawlessness we’ve seen much of lately. I wish to make the docks safer for those who wish to conduct proper business, you see.”

  “I do,” she said. He had told her what she needed. It was time to cut the admiral loose. “And I fear it is time to gather my household and retire for the evening. It has been a long day, Admiral.”

  “Lady Henri—that is, Henri…” he started.

  She held her breath, wondering if he’d escort her back to the ballroom, or if he’d insist on something as mundane as a dance before she left. She was eager to get home so she might have some time alone with her thoughts. “Admiral?” she prompted.

  “I’d be happy to escort you back and see you off. I would like to ask for a boon, however...”

  There it was. Cringing inwardly, she wondered what price she’d be expected to pay for this conversation. “Oh? And what would that be?”

  His eyes crinkled up and lit with laughter. “I’d love your company at the upcoming musicale at the Barnards’ residence. Might I see you there?”

  Henri let out the breath she had not realized she was holding in. She had already promised that silly dandy Lord Crawford she would attend, and she had it on good authority that Colefax would also be there. And now this admiral with his intriguing knowledge? A genuine smile tugged at her lips. “I would not miss it for the world.”

  Chapter Four

  It was a relief to leave London society behind, even if it was only to head to the docks on the south side of London. The bustle of the docks kept Alistair from obsessing over a certain beautiful blonde with a wickedly sharp mind and a body that made him forget his senses. It was her lips that had hypnotized him the other week. Lush and warm; they were not cold as he feared. Nothing about her was cold.

  It’s a good thing I’m made of ice, Alistair.

  He couldn’t stop hearing her voice. She was haunting him even now as he waited on the darkened docks as his brother’s ship sailed into the harbor. Either she was lying or he was a fool, because he could not believe she was as unfeeling as she claimed. No one could kiss like that and claim to be cold. Yet, her words still rang out through his mind in warning.

  She might not be as unflappable and unfeeling as she’d have him believe, but she was more determined than he had guessed. He rubbed a hand over his face, ignoring the urchins who hovered nearby, no doubt waiting for a chance to pick his pockets.

  Not only had his rash, ridiculous plan to distract her failed, it had backfired. He’d seen her curiosity pique when she realized he was trying to steer her off course. He should have known any effort to divert her would only make her more intrigued.

  The only thing that had managed to distract her was that kiss. That bloody kiss, which he hadn’t been able to stop himself from thinking about since it happened. That bloody kiss which never should have occurred in the first place.

  What had he been thinking? He hadn’t. He’d been overcome with jealousy and desire, with the need to feel her in his arms and taste those wickedly seductive lips. It had been a mistake. For while he may have managed to distract her, he’d walked away from her in a daze. He couldn’t afford that sort of distraction, not now when there was business to take care of.

  He watched as his brother’s ship sailed into port, and he was blissfully free of romantic entanglements as he met with Marcus in a nearby pub. His brother greeted him with a hug and a slap on the back. Much as his brother might have changed in appearance these past ten years—no heir to an earldom would be seen with that much hair or the scraggly beard—his eyes still glimmered with amusement and his laughter still sounded exactly the same as it always had. Not eve
n a decade at sea could change that.

  “How’s my favorite bastard brother?” Marcus said, his smile taking the sting out of the words.

  “Better than you, judging by the way you smell,” Alistair said.

  Marcus threw his head back with a laugh. It was times like this Alistair wondered who lived the more satisfying life—him, fighting for social justice and human rights in the House of Lords—or his brother, who brought justice in a far more hands-on manner.

  Marcus gave him a wink after he ordered a round of drinks. “Don’t you know, brother? Dead men aren’t meant to smell like roses.”

  Alistair groaned at the joke. It was so like his brother to tease about being dead. He dropped some coins on the bar and turned to the bartender. “This is for the whole party.”

  The surly-looking old man eyed him like he’d lost his mind and it wasn’t difficult to guess why. Marcus’ crew, who’d followed in their wake, were a rough-looking bunch, to say the least. But then again, they were a crew of pirates—or rather, pirate hunters—coming to shore after a lengthy stay at sea, so it was to be expected.

  For his part, Alistair had done his best to fit in, and had put aside his everyday wear for pants and a shirt of much lesser quality. He’d let his beard grow and had left most of his servants behind. It was not much of a disguise, but it was better than nothing. Even if he was discovered, there was not much chance he’d be linked to this renegade group. His family did have legitimate business at this port, which was why he and Marcus had chosen it for their rendezvous.

  “Do you have it with you?” Marcus asked.

  Alistair passed his brother a sheaf of paper with the information he’d requested. With Alistair’s connections in the shipping world, he could provide insider knowledge on ships that could be targeted or those that might be carrying slaves. Typically, he’d find another way to give his brother the information he needed to keep his operation running, but it had been some time since the two had met and they had business to discuss. Besides, he’d missed his brother. They always had been the best of friends, even when their positions were reversed. When they were children, Marcus had been the heir to the earldom, and Alistair—the illegitimate and younger half-brother—had been as good as dead. In their father’s eyes, at least, he’d barely existed.