The Lady Traveller's Guide To Deception With An Unlikely Earl
“I am sorry to disappoint.” She frowned. “And you needn’t keep calling me that.”
“Why? Don’t you like it?”
“Not especially.”
And wasn’t that interesting? “If you’re not indulging in London society, how do you spend your time?”
“I write, Mr. Armstrong. I have no time for anything else.” She pinned him with a firm look. “And what do you do? Other than play errand boy for your uncle. Which does seem to me to be the mark of a man with nothing else to do.”
“I have a great deal to do,” he said staunchly.
“For example?”
“I have not been back in England for very long. I have any number of ideas as to how to spend my time. I am simply trying to decide my next course.”
“Come now, Mr. Armstrong,” she said skeptically. “You’re the wealthy nephew of an even wealthier earl. You have no need to do anything productive at all.”
“A life of boredom is no life at all.”
“I wouldn’t know.” She tilted her head and studied him. “How long since your last trip to Egypt?”
“It’s been some time.” He grinned. “Quite some time.”
“Why did you leave Egypt?”
“Why did you?”
“I believe you’re hiding something, Mr. Armstrong.”
“Yet another coincidence, Mrs. Gordon. I know you’re hiding a great deal.”
“Do you?” She considered him for a long moment. A slow, decidedly wicked smile curved her lips. Her exceptionally fetching lips. “This should be fun, Mr. Armstrong.”
“Fun?” His gaze slipped to her mouth. He suspected her definition of fun at the moment and his were decidedly different. He cleared his throat. “Do you really think so?”
“Oh my, yes.” A definite glint of challenge shone in her eyes. “There is nothing more fun than putting an arrogant man in his place.”
“Then the game is afoot, Mrs. Gordon. And you’re right.” He leaned in, trying to ignore her scent, the long length of her lashes, the distracting nearness of her. “It will be fun. Although I have no doubt as to the ultimate winner.”
“Nor do I, Mr. Armstrong.”
His gaze meshed with hers and for a moment something one could only call awareness sparked between them. Not what he expected. Or wanted. But then Harry Armstrong had always been willing to adapt to new circumstances.
“There you are,” a female voice sounded behind him. Before he could turn, someone short and determined nudged him out of the way as efficiently as a collie cutting a sheep from the herd, and Mrs. Gordon’s band of determined elderly watchdogs surrounded her.
“Good day, Sidney,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore said brightly. “And Mr. Armstrong as well. What a lovely surprise.”
“And greeting the new day with champagne.” Lady Blodgett cast an assessing eye at the bottle in his hand. “I never would have thought of such a thing but it is a charming idea.”
“And how very thoughtful of you.” The dragon plucked the bottle from his grip and smiled innocently. “Only one glass?”
“I’m afraid so,” Sidney said with a shrug.
“Then there’s nothing to be done about it.” The dragon shook her head reluctantly. “We shall simply have to adjourn to Mrs. Gordon’s stateroom and request additional glasses from the charming Mr. Gilmore.”
Mrs. Gordon bit back a grin. Why shouldn’t she smile? She had invaded his solitude—he ignored the fact that she had already been on deck when he arrived—commandeered his tradition and was now absconding with his champagne.
“Thank you, again, Mr. Armstrong,” she said pleasantly. “Do enjoy the rest of your morning.” She took the dragon’s arm and they strolled down the deck.
“We would ask you to join us, Mr. Armstrong, but Sidney’s room simply isn’t big enough for everyone. Why, the four of us can scarcely squeeze in together. Although it is an exceptionally nice room.” Lady Blodgett smiled. “Besides, it did look to me as if there was barely enough champagne left for a handful of glasses at the most and I am certain you would wish for us to have it.”
What could he say? “With my sincerest compliments.”
“I thought you would agree. This really is quite delightful. I might have to put the idea of starting the first day of any new journey with champagne at sunrise in a Lady Travelers pamphlet.” Lady Blodgett turned to go then turned back. “Oh, and as it seems to me, to all of us really, as your purpose in this trip is the complete opposite of Sidney’s, it might be wiser for all concerned if you avoided those occasions when it was just you and Mrs. Gordon alone. Besides, people being what they are, appearances are important. I’m certain you understand.”
“Are you afraid I might attempt to ply Mrs. Gordon with spirits in an effort to wring a confession from her?” he said lightly. “Or do you think my intentions might be even more dishonorable? Seduction perhaps?” At once, the image of her delightfully inviting lips came to mind.
Lady Blodgett glanced at Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore, and then leaned closer to him. “Mr. Armstrong, my husband and his friends were explorers and adventurers. I have spent the better part of my life around such men as have Poppy and Effie. Men very much like you. I assure you, we are quite good at recognizing those who are honorable gentlemen and those who are not.”
“And where do I fall in your assessment?” he said slowly.
“I haven’t decided yet.” She smiled sweetly but there was no misunderstanding the look in her eye. Regardless of whether she decided he was indeed an honorable gentleman or a despicable cad, the opportunities to be alone with Mrs. Gordon again, particularly with champagne, would be nonexistent. Were the ladies trying to keep her secrets or simply protect her? He could certainly understand the former if indeed he was right about her but the latter made no sense. A widow had no need of constant supervision and from his brief conversation with her it was apparent Mrs. Gordon—Sidney—could certainly hold her own.
“Good day, Mr. Armstrong.” Lady Blodgett started after the others. Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore nodded, and then trailed after her friend.
“Do you always travel in packs, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore?” he said mildly.
She turned back to him. “Goodness no, Mr. Armstrong. Not always.” She smiled in a friendly manner. He wasn’t sure he believed it. “Only when necessary.” The older lady’s eyes twinkled and she headed toward the others.
The game was indeed afoot. Harry thought he’d be playing with Sidney alone. Now, it appeared he was facing an entire team.
The fame of Mrs. Gordon’s Tales of a Lady Adventurer in Egypt has spread well beyond England. Even on board ship any number of passengers had read her work and confessed it was a great influence on their decisions to turn their hopes for holiday adventures toward the ancient shores of Egypt.
—“The Return of the Queen of the Desert,” Daniel Corbin, foreign correspondent
CHAPTER SIX
“WHY, MR. ARMSTRONG, what are you doing?” Sidney said behind the mask that had been passed out to all the passengers for masquerade night. A night that was every bit as bothersome as it sounded although it did seem to be the sort of thing first-class passengers required. It was their first dance of the evening, much to Harry’s annoyance.
“I believe we are dancing,” he said smoothly, steering her out of the saloon door and into the corridor. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder but no one seemed to note their exit. This was the first chance he’d had to be alone with her since their shared sunrise and it had taken a bit of creative manipulation on his part to manage it.
“I believe we were dancing and now you have somehow guided me out of the saloon and—”
He opened the door to the deck. “And onto the deck.”
“Dare I ask why?” She stepped out onto the deck, a note of amusement in her voice. Obviously, she was not annoyed by this clever maneuver of his.
He smiled down at her. “It’s a beautiful night, Mrs. Gordon.” He pulled off his mask with a sense of relief. He hated having the blasted thing pressed against his face. “I thought it a shame not to share it.”
“It is a lovely night, Mr. Armstrong.” She untied her mask and removed it. “But I assume we are not here simply to gaze at the stars.”
“Oh, but they are magnificent stars.”
“They are at that.” She glanced out at the darkness, the brilliant stars reflecting on an endless sea. “There are any number of ways I can think of to describe this but you would not appreciate them.”
He chuckled. “Probably not.”
“I’ve never seen the stars so brilliant or a sky so black.” She gazed at the sky for a long moment and it struck Harry that there were indeed any number of ways he could describe her face silhouetted against the stars. Most of them extremely sentimental and even, possibly, given the circumstances, romantic.
He ignored the absurd idea. “Except, of course, when you’ve been on a ship at sea.”
“Yes, of course.” She paused then heaved a slightly dramatic sigh. “It’s been so long I had nearly forgotten...”
He didn’t believe her but thought it best to ignore yet another example of her deception. “I simply thought you would look lovely under the stars. And I was right.”
She arched a skeptical brow and then snorted in a most unladylike manner. “Good Lord, Harry. Did you expect that to work?”
“Yes.” He grinned.
“There’s that arrogance of yours again.”
“I prefer to think of it as confidence.”
“You may think of it as you wish. You will anyway, I suspect.” She rested her hands on the railing and gazed out at the night. “Why are we really here?”
“Aside from the stars and the balmy night?”
She laughed and it caught at something deep inside him. It was not the first time. “Yes, Harry, aside from all the accoutrements of a blatantly romantic interlude, why are we here?”
“I simply wished to talk to you.” He paused. “Alone.”
“That explains it, then.”
He’d been right from the beginning. Try as he might, in the week and a half they’d been on board ship there had been no opportunity to be alone with Sidney. Her trio of guardians made certain of that. They weren’t the least bit subtle about it either. There was at least one of them by Sidney’s side or within sight every minute. It would have been most annoying except that it also served to prevent Corbin from being alone with her. Harry’s initial impression of Corbin’s untrustworthiness when it came to women was proving correct. Why, the reporter practically fawned over Sidney, showering her with compliments about her writing and her ability to tell a story at every opportunity. One did wonder what else the man was saying when he leaned in close to her and spoke low into her ear. Although the blush that washed up her face at such moments was certainly a clue as to the sorts of things Corbin whispered. Corbin was the one the ladies should keep their eyes on—not Harry. It was obvious that the man was interested in more than a mere newspaper story. Of course, the reporter was nearly as attentive to the chaperones as he was to Sidney, no doubt in an effort to earn their trust and thereby convince them to look kindly upon him.
Two could play at Corbin’s game. Certainly it had been some time but Harry used to play it quite well. When he inherited his title, he had made a concerted effort to behave more in the manner expected of a gentleman in his position. It hadn’t been especially difficult. Harry attributed that both to the demands of his new circumstances as well as age. There was nothing that emphasized a man’s passing years and the reality of mortality so much as the death of a friend. It now struck him that he had been somewhat melancholy in nature in the two years since Walter died as well. Certainly the most interesting thing he’d done since his return to England was dare Mrs. Gordon to prove her legitimacy.
She’d called him stuffy. Stuffy? Hardly. Admittedly, the Earl of Brenton might be stuffy and even perhaps—God help him—dull. But Harry Armstrong was daring and adventurous and far from dead. And hadn’t he felt a bit more like his old self since he’d started this endeavor? There was nothing Harry Armstrong couldn’t do if he set his mind to it. And earning the friendship—if not the affections—of Sidney and her band of vigilant widows was just the sort of challenge he had always relished. The ladies were pleasant enough and he had become rather fond of them with the exception of Mrs. Higginbotham, who continued to treat him with utter disdain which only made him try harder. After all, with friendship came confidences and, hopefully, the truth about the Queen of the Desert.
From that moment forward, Harry made it his business to be by Sidney’s side every possible minute. He never missed an opportunity to sit next to her at dinner. Certainly there were moments when he had to outmaneuver Corbin—as well as the captain who quite liked having the Queen of the Desert on board his ship. As it happened, the blasted man had read her silly book. But then apparently—who hadn’t?
Harry was doing all he could to follow his father’s and Ben’s advice. Really, could he be more charming? Every evening he joined Sidney and the other ladies in the saloon for whatever entertainment was scheduled and there was something scheduled every night. He had never been much for organized activities but it seemed they were an essential part of a passenger ship and could not be avoided. Amusements ranged from dancing to absurd games that struck him as little better than children’s pastimes, to musical evenings employing the questionable talents of the other passengers, to hours of enthusiastic and distinctly cutthroat card playing. Such evenings were admittedly rather fun.
Harry had always enjoyed cards and considered himself quite accomplished. On board ship, they played for pennies, and higher wagers were frowned upon even though he suspected the older ladies would have agreed to increased stakes. All three of them played with a wicked intensity that was as surprising as it was successful. The only interesting wager to be found was the daily sweepstakes wherein passengers placed a miniscule amount—because it was all in the spirit of fun, although he would dispute that—on their guess of the distance the ship had traveled the day before. They were halfway to Alexandria before Harry discovered most of the gentlemen on board had substantial, private wagers of their own as well as serious card games in the gentlemen’s lounge. One of the true satisfactions of the endless voyage was liberating Corbin from a tidy sum.
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