Cloudy With a Chance of Marriage (24 page)

“You’re right.” His tone was dry.

Now their aloneness in the middle of a vast crowd of merrymakers no longer felt cozy and warm. Something felt sad. Off.

“Shall we go see Prinny?” she suggested in a festive manner, but her heart was heavy.

“I suppose so,” the captain answered testily.

He was angry she wouldn’t go to the garden with him, but didn’t he know why?

She’d surrender. And that was where her greatest danger lay.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Stephen always enjoyed a challenge. His most difficult was Miss Jones. Yes, he’d merely wanted a scorching flirtation, and the events that had transpired at Hodgepodge had convinced him they had one, but he still wasn’t satisified.

He wasn’t sure why. But something in him wanted more from her. Much more.

But what exactly?

He craved touching her, but he also liked sparring with her, telling her about his life, laughing with her, and simply
being
with her. He wished more than anything that she’d tell him about herself, but she’d made it clear she wanted to be left alone.

The secondary challenge of convincing the Prince Regent to visit the unluckiest street in Mayfair seemed easy in comparison to the problem that was Miss Jones.

Yet twenty minutes after Stephen’s revealing conversation with her—and their mutual commitment to gain access to the royal—they still hadn’t succeeded.

“He’s surrounded by a most annoying crowd,” Stephen said. “Most of them drunk and belligerent if anyone dares attempt to break into their circle.”

“There’s even a circle around the circle,” Miss Jones observed, an adorable pucker on her brow. “Did you see the look on their faces when you told them you were one of Prinny’s Impossible Bachelors and must speak to him? They couldn’t have cared less.”

She bit her thumb and stared at Prinny’s minions, political and otherwise.

“What are you thinking?” Stephen asked her.

“What
you’re
thinking.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”

She blushed. “You’re thinking we’ll use your naval strategies to get to him.”

“Is that so?” He couldn’t help admiring her bravado. “Tell me more about my thoughts, Miss Jones.”

“Very well.” He heard the catch of excitement in her voice. “Imagine him, Captain, as the pirate’s galleon you have to capture. And he’s surrounded by a fleet of smaller ships, all with loaded cannons.”

He chuckled. “You’re mad.” A beat passed. “But I like the way you think.”

She grinned. “When you’ve devised the plan”—she nudged him with an elbow, probably to remind him not to get too close, physically or otherwise—“you’ll know where to find me. I’ll be with Lumley, taking him up on his offer.”

And then she took off.

“Don’t waltz with him!” Stephen called after her, feeling oddly protective. He didn’t want any man getting ideas about her, not even Lumley.

But she must not have heard him. She was already wending her way through the crowds.

Reluctantly, he returned his attention to the Prince Regent. It only made sense that he’d have to stage a diversion. That would call off the smaller “ships”—the sycophants and political advisors—and then he’d take the prince broadside in an all-out attack, using every weapon he had at his disposal.

The best one, of course, was Miss Jones.

While he was cogitating, an imposing male with a broad grin approached.

“Harry!” Stephen clasped his good friend on the shoulder, and they shook hands.

“Glad you’re on English soil again,” Harry said heartily.

He was followed by a pert brunette who smiled from ear to ear when she saw him. “Stephen!” she cried, and hugged him round the waist.

“Molly Traemore.” He hugged her back then held her at arm’s length. “You’re stunning tonight. More beautiful than I’ve ever seen you. And I think I know why.”

Molly nodded happily and looked down at her stomach, her hand pressed to it with tender care. “We didn’t want to write. We wanted to tell you in person.”

“But you’ve been noticeably absent from our home since your ship came in,” Harry said with an arched brow. “That usually means you’re having too much fun to be bothered.”

Molly tapped his arm with her fan. “
Are
you?”

“Yes,” Stephen said, “if you call having a house on an unlucky street and a meddlesome neighbor embroiling me in a scheme to make it prosperous again entertaining.”

“That wouldn’t be Dreare Street, would it?” Molly asked.

“Yes, it is.” Stephen looked over his shoulder at Miss Jones dancing with Lumley. “And there’s the meddlesome neighbor.”

Harry gave a low whistle. “Now I understand. Even from here, I can see she’s a match for you. Look at those eyes. They quite twinkle.”

“And I like the way she holds herself,” Molly added. “I can tell she’ll take no nonsense from you, Stephen.”

Stephen’s chest tightened. “It’s not like that at all.”

“I said the same thing about Molly.” Harry cast an amused sideways glance at him.

“Don’t start—” Stephen told him in his best warning voice.

Harry laughed. “I’m not one of your sailors, Captain. You can’t make me walk the plank for noting that you’ve
never
stared at a woman the way you’re looking at your meddlesome neighbor right now.”

“Traemore—”

“Shush, you two,” said Molly, avidly watching Miss Jones. “I saw her in the ladies’ retiring room pinning the hem of Lady Courtney’s gown.” She clasped her hands together. “Now I know why I can’t keep my eyes off her. She looks like a lady’s maid let loose at a fine ball.” She turned to Stephen. “
Is
she a lady’s maid?”

“No.” Stephen gave a little laugh. “She’s a bookseller.”

“Whatever she is, she makes an enchanting picture!” Molly exclaimed. “Everyone’s watching her and Lumley. See?”

She inclined her head to the crowd lining the dance floor. The observers
did
appear charmed by Miss Jones, who’d just passed under Lumley’s arm. Her eyes were, indeed, twinkling merrily, and she had a most infectious smile. Lumley was clearly happy having her as his dance partner, even though her gown couldn’t be considered luxurious, as the other ladies’ could.

Stephen saw Lady Tabitha eyeing his neighbor with open scorn and a bit of frustration.

He turned to see if Prinny and his cronies were watching her, but they were still ignoring the goings-on around them. Raucous laughter spilled from their group. Stephen could see only the top of Prinny’s head. It was as if the royal were inside a fortress three-people thick.

“Who
is
this neighbor of yours?” Molly asked him, her eyes curious.

“Miss Jilly Jones,” murmured Stephen. “But I’d rather everyone think she were someone else.”

“Why’s that?” Harry still had his gaze on Miss Jones on the dance floor.

“We need to bring her to Prinny’s attention.” Stephen turned to Molly. “I’ll explain later,” he said softly, “but you’ve given me an excellent idea. I need you to tell your friends she’s posing as a woman of unremarkable but respectable birth. Tell them she’s actually the direct descendant of an old line of Celtic kings, is extremely wealthy, and doesn’t want anyone to know her origins.”

“But she’s descended from kings!” Molly exclaimed.

“Not really—” Harry said.

“Darling.”
Molly sent him an arch look. “I know. I was acting.”

“You’re good.” Her husband chuckled. “Very good. Now go follow the captain’s orders, will you?”

Molly kissed his cheek—Stephen’s, too—and scampered away, as best a lady expecting a child could scamper with a bit of scintillating gossip to spread.

“Congratulations, old man,” Stephen told Harry. “I can’t believe you’re going to be a father.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “I never thought I’d say this, but I couldn’t be happier.”

“I’m glad for you, truly.” Stephen paused. “But don’t wish the same fate on me. I see it in your eyes. You’ve joined the ranks of contented married couples and want me to be just as happy.”

“Can you blame me?” Harry shrugged. “Maybe you’re ready to settle down yourself. You’ve left the navy, after all.”

Stephen shook his head. “Because I want to do something new. It’s been a long, rewarding career. I’ve been at it almost fourteen years.”

“Since you were a pup. Will you
ever
consider marrying?”

“It’s not in my plans, no,” said Stephen, his gaze still on Miss Jones.

“It wasn’t in mine, either, as you’ll recall.” Harry gave one vigorous rub to Stephen’s shoulder. “Just know I’m here if you ever get confused about anything.”

“Confused? Me?”

“Oh, I forgot,” Harry said, his tone dry. “A navy captain can’t afford to get confused.” He paused, a serious expression on his face. “I’ll say it again. I’m here if you ever need counsel. It’s hard to fathom, I know, but I’ve got experience now in matters of the heart. So does Nicholas.”

“He’s still in America with Poppy?”

“Yes.” Harry grinned. “I’m better at it than he is, though.”

“Right,” said Stephen. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said so when he gets back and we find out he’s the father of a set of twins.”

“If he is, then I’ll concede my position as chief married blatherer,” said Harry. “I’m sure Molly’s going to have a boy, just one this time, and his name will be Harry junior.”

They both chuckled and lapsed into a comfortable silence. Stephen wasn’t the least bit annoyed with Harry for being nosy. True friends were allowed to be. But he seriously doubted he’d need counseling of the heart from anyone.

The dancers began another quadrille, and after it was over, there was a general stirring over at Prinny’s group. The Prince Regent himself emerged, fists on hips, face flushed, and his eyes bright.

He stared at Miss Jones on the dance floor. “I want that woman who looks like a lady’s maid!” he cried. “Bring her to me!”

Harry gave Stephen a subtle thumbs-up. Then Molly, who was on the edge of a group across the ballroom floor, caught their gazes and blew a happy kiss in their general direction.

“That kiss was for me, I think,” said Stephen.

“It was for
me,
” Harry insisted. “But I’ll share it with you.” He angled his head at Prinny’s group. “Come on. Let’s see what happens with your lady’s maid.”

Stephen wondered what Miss Jones was thinking when Lumley took her arm and began to lead her over to the prince. Lady Tabitha and Molly managed to wend their way over, as well.

Stephen and Harry got there ahead of them all.

“Harry,” the prince said fondly a moment later. “Look at you. So happy with your beautiful bride and, soon, a child.”

Harry put his arm around Molly and squeezed her close. “Yes, very happy,” he said.

Prinny turned to Stephen next. “And Arrow!” he cried. “You ended your career in the navy well, capturing that pirate as you did.”

Up close, Stephen noticed the Regent’s cheeks were even fatter and rosier than last time he’d seen him. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he said, standing at attention as he would have in uniform.

The prince appeared genuinely happy to see Lumley. “Still unattached, are you?”

“Indeed, Your Highness.” Lumley gave him a gracious bow.

“Then who’s the lovely lady on your arm?” Prinny eyed her with avid curiosity.

“She’s Miss Jilly Jones of Dreare Street,” Lumley said with a great deal of enthusiasm.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” Miss Jones swept the royal a low curtsy.

“Oh, yes, Dreare Street.” The prince chuckled. “The unluckiest street in London.” He got two inches from her face.
“Just the address a Celtic princess would choose for herself.”

And then he burst into guffaws. So did his advisors.

Miss Jones’s brow puckered. “I’m not a Celtic princess, I assure you. And I do live on Dreare Street. I own Hodgepodge, the bookstore.”

“Yes,” Prinny said, “and Marie Antoinette had her little village to entertain herself. It must be so delicious to play bookstore owner.”

Miss Jones blinked. “It is, I assure you. And I don’t believe in bad luck.”

“She believes in creating her own destiny,” Prinny called over his shoulder to his friends and advisors. “Isn’t she endearing?”

There was a chorus of affirmatives.

He looked back at her with tender regard. “I would expect no less of a Celtic princess.”

“You’ll recall
me,
Your Highness, from a ball in Brighton,” interjected Lady Tabitha. She curtsied in a most elegant manner.

The prince swept his gaze over her. “Yes, Lady Tabitha. I recollect our meeting.”

She gave him a sensual smile, the same one she’d bestowed on Stephen at Hodgepodge.