Chapter Twelve
On the second floor of a modest-looking gray stoned dwelling on Lime Street, Regan van der Rhys prepared himself for the evening ahead. His movements were fluid and unhurried. Not so his thoughts. They raced like a wild bird caught in a snare. Just that afternoon Sir Stephan Langdon had visited his office and told him the reason for Baroness Sinclair’s reception that evening was to introduce a certain Spanish lady, newly arrived from her homeland.
Regan rubbed his chest with a strong, bronzed hand. Why was it every time he thought of Sirena, he experienced this damnable pain in his chest, like a giant vise squeezing the breath from him? He shook his proud, leonine head and buttoned his fine lawn shirt. He glanced at his image in the long looking glass and tried to calm his angry eyes. Brushing at his sheaf of blond hair impatiently, he bent to pull on his boots.
Regan van der Rhys stomped about his room, his agate-blue eyes cold and hard. His stubbornness was evident in his lean, square jaw and the way he kept smashing one capable hand into the palm of the other. Something was happening to him, something he didn’t like, something over which he had no control.
Until the day Sirena had stepped into his office unannounced, weeks ago, he had been trying to put the pieces of his life together, to sort them in a semblance of order. Now his life was upside down again.
Shortly after his meeting with Sirena, he asked Camilla Langdon for her hand in marriage and was accepted. Now that he was betrothed to Camilla she was the woman who should occupy his thoughts, not Sirena.
Regan forced his thoughts to conjure up a vision of the pink-and-white Camilla. He had to blink several times before he could focus and, when he did, it was emerald eyes and dark hair that looked back at him. It was ivory skin with a tawny glow and a wide, sensuous mouth with pearl-white teeth that smiled at him. His arms began to ache as did his nether regions. “Bitch!” he shouted hoarsely to the empty room. Even here in England she sought him out, threatened him, lied to him and taunted him. Was he never to know peace? Would she haunt him for the rest of his days? And merciful God, what would she do to the poor, unsuspecting Camilla, who had led such an unspoiled, sheltered life?
Sirena would make short shrift of her with a few well-chosen words. The petal-cheeked Camilla would be little more than pulp if Sirena took . matters into her own hands. Camilla certainly was no match for the wily, cutlass-wielding Sirena. Come to think of it, he wasn’t so positive he was a match for her either.
Had she truly come to see him, as she said, or did she have an ulterior motive? “Now she wants shares in my business,” he blustered to his reflection in the mirror. “She’ll watch me work seven days a week so she can have her share, and she’ll fritter it away on costly gowns and fine furnishings.” Regan felt his shoulders bunch at the thought. There had to be an answer.
Bitterly, he accepted the fact that Sirena had all the solutions! With the way his luck ran when it came to dealing with Sirena, she would own the damn company in a year’s time. He would break his back carving out his business and she would sit back and live lavishly on his efforts. “My ass!” he thundered to the room.
A more pleasant thought crossed his mind. Sirena wouldn’t be able to touch Camilla’s fortune. He would have to be very careful to see that a strict accounting was kept and that not a cent of Langdon money was invested in the import-export business he was building. If he made an error, Sirena would get her hands on that, too! Time was the answer. He needed it to work out some plan to outwit Sirena. Hadn’t he already taken the first step in asking Camilla to marry him?
Regan surveyed himself again and wondered at the sour expression on his face as he thought of being wed to the delicate Camilla.
Regan lifted the heavy knocker on the Langdon front door on fashionable Drury Lane and waited for the family retainer to admit him. He was impatient this night and in no mood for cooling his heels waiting for Camilla. He hoped that for once she was ready to leave.
Just as he was about to light a cheroot, he looked up and saw her standing at the top of the wide, circular staircase. She was becomingly dressed in a demure silk gown of daffodil yellow which enhanced her petite, dainty figure. Fragile was the word that came to Regan’s mind when he thought of her—defenseless and in need of a protector. And he was that champion.
Before descending, Camilla hesitated a moment for Regan to gain the full effect of her appearance. Her pale blond hair had been laboriously curled into an elaborate coiffure and tumbled about her head in a studied disarray to frame her piquant features and highlight her creamy white skin and soft violet eyes. Her small, pink mouth trembled slightly at the sight of the tall man waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.
Camilla was picture-pretty with small pearl drops nestled on the lobes of her tiny, shell-like ears and a wide ribbon sash tied about her incredibly tiny waist. She held out her hand for Regan as she neared the last step and looked up at him with a smile that brought out the two adorable dimples in her velvety cheeks.
“You’re so handsome, Regan. Every woman at the Sinclairs’ will want to scratch my eyes from their sockets.”
Regan gulped as an image of Sirena, looming over the delicate flower who was Camilla, swam before his eyes.
“I’m really looking forward to this evening’s entertainment. My father tells me that a visitor to our fair London is being introduced this evening. A Spanish lady, I heard. I understand she is quite beautiful and, therefore, I’ll not allow you out of my sight,” she cooed playfully.
“You have no fear of me leaving your side, sweetheart,” Regan muttered beneath his breath. He would never allow Camilla and the wild, untamed Sirena to get within inches of each other. Not while he was alive, at any rate. His hand shook slightly. Sirena could always remedy that situation if she took it into that unreasonable Latin head of hers.
The hired carriage came to a creeping stop and Regan helped his fiancée disembark to the cobbled drive. Music spilled into the grounds from the Sinclair mansion and every window was aglow with light.
Inside, the vast ballroom was decorated with fresh-cut flowers and massive tubs of ferns. Small, gilt, velvet-seated chairs lined the perimeters of the room. Everywhere servants carried trays bearing cups of punch and sweetmeats of marzipan. A toast was being made as Regan and Camilla entered the room. The guests tipped fragile, long-stemmed glasses to their lips in celebration of the night’s festivities.
As the musicians resumed their playing, Regan and Camilla were announced. The couple worked their way down the receiving line to the Baron and Baroness. A portly gentleman behind Regan was heard to mention that everyone seemed present save the guest of honor. He also mentioned it was Sir Sinclair who was the lady’s escort for the evening.
Regan’s gut churned at the softly spoken words. Where was she? If his guess was correct, she was deliberately going to make a grand entrance on the arm of the dashing rake, Tyler Sinclair.
Tyler apologized for his tardiness for the tenth time. “It was this blasted shirt, you see,” he explained again. “Two of the servants are ill and my personal valet among them. So, instead of obeying my instructions concerning my evening clothes, my mother interfered ... Oh damn! You see,” he joked, “if I were a highwayman, this would never have happened. Mother will be having an attack of the vapors about now, seeing how late we are.”
Sirena smiled. “So long as it is you who are the reason behind her vapors and not myself, you can save your apologies, Tyler. I really don’t mind since it took longer than I expected to complete my toilette.”
“And the results are quite fetching, to say the least, Sirena.” Tyler glanced at her approvingly. “Green does incredible things to your eyes. You’ll dazzle every man at the ball. I intend to keep a sharp eye on you, so be warned. I want to keep you all to myself.”
“I won’t mind, Tyler, if it’s a plan you intend to keep,” Sirena laughed softly, edging closer to him on the luxurious seat in the Sinclair coach.
“Sirena,” Tyler said seriously, “Regan van der Rhys and Camilla Langdon will be there. I feel it only fair to warn you that you’re bound to meet them in the course of the evening. I’m certain you’ll be able to carry it off and no one need know you were formerly married to him. Mother and Father both think it’s in your best interests not to make mention of the fact. Divorce is still a social blight in England, regardless of the Crown’s policies. I’m also certain that Regan has kept the fact under wraps. I doubt if even Camilla knows, otherwise it would be a matter for gossip. It’s not a piece of information she could keep to herself.”
“Tyler, do you mean to say Camilla is a gossipmonger?”
“When it doesn’t affect her own reputation, yes,” he answered, the touch of bitterness in his voice raising Sirena’s curiosity.
“Surely the girl’s mother would have taught her better.”
“She lost her mother when she was very young and her father, Sir Stephan Langdon, has never remarried. It’s true, Camilla could have done with a firm female hand in her upbringing.” Sirena thought Tyler was about to say more on the subject of Camilla, when he glanced out the window and saw they had arrived. “Here we are. The Baroness will be in a carefully controlled rage, if I know my mother. We’ll both have to put our best foot forward.”
As Sirena and Tyler moved through the spacious hallway of the Sinclair home, Tyler led her directly over to the receiving line. All heads turned to see the elegant couple and Sirena noticed out of the corner of her eye that the women were whispering and the men were smiling with interest. Where was Regan? All she had to do was turn her head and look for the tallest of men with a thatch of gold hair. It was too late. Tyler was introducing her to the Baron and Baroness. Sirena was at her most gracious as she spoke softly, a lilt in her voice, her eyes demurely downcast. Baron Sinclair was obviously entranced and the Baroness liked her immediately.
“My dear Señorita,” the Baroness said delightedly, “you are quite the most exquisite creature in the room this night. Tomorrow you’ll be the talk of all London. Come, stand beside me and receive my guests, they’re near dying to meet you.”
A thousand greetings and polite exchanges later, the Baroness took Sirena upstairs to a tiring room where she could refresh herself before the dancing began. Baron Charles took his son by the arm and led him to the punch bowl where several elegant young ladies eyed Tyler seductively. Tyler accepted his drink and complimented the ladies with his attention in his own gallant way before joining his father at the far side of the room.
“The Dutchman must be blind,” the Baron blustered. “She’s lovely, simply lovely, eh Tyler?” he jostled his son’s arm enthusiastically, nearly spilling his punch.
“Without a doubt,” Tyler answered as he stretched his neck to see Sirena descending the stairs beside his mother. Why he felt this concern for her he could not imagine. With the formidable Baroness at her side, nothing could go amiss. “Father, look, Camilla is dragging van der Rhys to be introduced to Sirena.”
“Not to worry, my boy, she has the situation well in hand. Even my faded eyes can see that she’s every inch a lady and won’t give herself away.”
It was Regan who wore the wary look. When he met Sirena’s amused emerald eyes, his chest constricted. He felt his muscles tense when he saw how graciously she inclined her head to acknowledge the introduction. His throat closed entirely when she purred softly, “From Batavia, Mynheer van der Rhys! Someday you must tell me of the nutmeg trees which grow there. Why,” she trilled, “I’ve heard tales of women working their hands raw in the fields for their husbands. And then the ungrateful wretches leave them somewhere by the wayside when they are of no further use. Have you ever heard of anything more inhumane?” she asked of the pink-cheeked Camilla.
“Never! What a terrible thing to do. The men must be beasts!” Camilla said, properly horrified.
“Tell me, Mynheer, have you heard this tale?” Sirena asked. “I’d always heard the Dutch brought civilization to Java. Obviously, such is not the case. Don’t you agree? Excuse me, I seem to have forgotten your name.”
The Baroness hastened to refresh her guest’s memory while Camilla looked properly aghast. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”
“And you, sir?” Sirena pressed of Regan, a sly smirk at the corner of her mouth.
Regan chose his words carefully, his eyes on the creamy shoulders and voluptuous bosom revealed by the cut of Sirena’s gown. He felt light-headed and his palms were perspiring. “I believe it is said the tale you speak of involved only one woman and she was a notorious pirate in the Indies waters. A woman who was a skilled liar, a master of deceit, a murderer, and when she reformed her ways, she contented herself with her rosary.” Regan cocked his head and stared intently at Sirena. “It was said this lady professed to love the man she planted the fields for; but, when he was forced to leave Java, she refused to go with him. So you see, Señorita Córdez, he did not cast her by the wayside, she preferred not to stay with him.”
“How sad. Isn’t that a sad tale, Baroness? But it seems to me the tale goes even further. Wasn’t there something about the man stealing this woman’s fortune and then offering to pension her off with her own money?”
The cords in Regan’s neck threatened to burst. Before he could utter a reply, Sirena pressed her advantage. “Miss Langdon, have you ever heard of a more despicable act?”
“Never!” Camilla said forcefully.
“Nor I!” the Baroness interjected. “The rascal should be hanged by the neck!” She was happily enjoying every moment of this playacting.
“Exactly my thoughts on the matter,” Sirena said softly. “The end of the story is this ... lady sought out this ... gentleman and ... good heavens, I don’t wish to spoil the gentleman’s evening. I’m certain he has heard the tale so there is no point in repeating it again. Poor man, poor, poor man,” Sirena said sadly, a wicked light in her eyes, as she followed the Baroness to her next guest.
“Darling, she is a striking woman, isn’t she?” Camilla asked innocently.
Regan looked down into Camilla’s beautiful, piquant face and said harshly, “Sweetheart, she’s as striking as a viper!” His mood shattered, Regan felt his gaze trail Sirena every time she was within sight. Never once did she look his way, as far as he could tell.
All through the evening Regan stayed at Camilla’s side. Ever on his guard for Sirena to steal a moment alone with his betrothed, Regan even refused a respite in the gardens for a much wanted cheroot. If he could help it, Sirena would not get the opportunity to regale Camilla with further tales of Java and perhaps even go so far as to reveal to his sweet and very young intended that she was once Regan’s wife. Consequently, each time Sirena glanced his way, Regan was paying court to the demure flower who was to replace her.
Through the course of the evening, Sirena felt her spirits sink lower and lower. Regan appeared to absolutely dote on the girl. Sirena was reminded of how he used to dance attendance on her. He had been so loving, so tender, so attentive. When he had wanted to be, she reminded herself. Nevertheless, Regan wasn’t a man who became preoccupied with a woman unless his interest in her was sincere. And tonight Regan’s behavior was almost—her mind grappled for the word —vigilant! Down, down, her spirits sank and her heart was near to breaking. He loves her! He loves her! her heart cried. It’s true, Regan loves Camilla!
Toward the end of the evening, Regan settled himself on one of the gilt chairs placed near a huge assortment of evergreens. Camilla had obviously retired to refresh herself. As he waited for Camilla’s return, a voluptuous redhead passed him as she was led by her escort to the garden. Regan eyed the woman appreciatively as she swayed seductively and gave him a saucy smile which he returned.
Sirena, who was standing near the evergreens, watched Regan and knew in that split second that he did not love Camilla Langdon. If he had a thousand willing, beautiful women falling at his feet, Regan would have looked right through them as if they’d been carved from glass. When he loved a woman, Regan was the kind of man to whom no others existed. When they were married, after they discovered their love for one another, Regan had never had eyes for another woman. He had been completely faithful and devoted to her.
Sirena’s heart lifted, her spirits soared. There was still hope, still that chance to win him back. To make him declare his love for her. To hear him say the divorce had been a mistake. He still wanted her, still loved her!
Suddenly, Regan stood and found Sirena directly in his line of vision. “Don’t tell me you sought me out to finish your bitter little tale.”
“No,” Sirena laughed, her heart lighter than it had been in what seemed like centuries. “The tale is not yet finished. There is still a question as to how it will end.” Her voice was quiet, holding Regan in the unexpected tenderness of her tone. The moment between them seemed an eternity, as though time stood still, and they were caught forever in this instant of infinity.
Breaking through the spell she seemed to weave about him, Regan demanded, “Then why have you sought me out?”
“I came to bid you goodnight and to tell you how lovely your child bride-to-be is.” Sirena laughed lightly, knowing full well the message she read in his eyes.
Regan stood his ground when Sirena laughed. The sound seemed to settle around him like a mantle, enveloping him in emotions he had been struggling to overcome. He wanted to lash out. Those exciting cat-green eyes were laughing at him, mocking him, tormenting him. God, how he wanted her. Wanted her in his arms, his lips crushing hers.
Sirena smiled, joyously interpreting his thoughts. “Anything more than a formal handclasp would be tantamount to rape, Regan,” she laughed. “You divorced me, remember?” she taunted. “Perhaps I’ll marry again, myself. No, no, not Tyler. Perhaps someone more impressive, like that gentleman speaking with the Baroness.” She pointed discreetly.
At Regan’s shocked expression she laughed again. “Would my marriage to Lord Langdon upset you? Ah, Regan, darling, this decadent society we find ourselves in is too much for you.” A devil danced in her eyes and her mouth broke into a grin as she continued. “If I were to marry Sir Langdon, who is by the way quite enamored of me; if his pursuit of me all evening is an indication, I would then be your stepmother-in-law. It’s utterly fascinating,” she laughed once more, the rich peals making Regan quake with rage.
“Bitch!” Regan hissed between clenched teeth, as Sirena left his side in search of Tyler Sinclair.
Inside Sirena was trembling. Had she pushed Regan too far? She teased him unmercifully. It was a dangerous game she was playing and she was fully aware of the consequences should she lose. Yet she was impelled to play on. She had to make Regan aware of her. Make him feel something toward her, and if anger and rage were the first steps to opening his eyes to her then she would have to take her chances and play the game out to the last turn.
She found herself beside Tyler, pleading weariness and asking to be taken home. If he noticed a strange light dancing in the depths of Sirena’s eyes, he said nothing. But he looked at her questioningly, for only minutes before he had seen her talking with Regan and she had been animated. Now there was a flush on her ivory cheeks belying the exhaustion she claimed.
“You can’t be leaving us so soon,” Sir Langdon interrupted them as she bade her farewell to the Baron and Baroness. “The night is still young and you’ve only given me the pleasure of dancing with you once. Please, won’t you stay a while longer?” Though his words were pleasant enough, there was a silent demand behind his request.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sirena noticed Regan leading Camilla out onto the dance floor for the quadrille. Suddenly, her mind made up, Sirena smiled brightly and took Sir Langdon by his arm. “Perhaps one last dance,” she said sweetly, looking up into his handsomely craggy face.
Stephan Langdon was a tall man of fifty-five who appeared ten years younger. His slender physique bespoke the grace of an athlete and his manner was gracious and winning. A ladies’ man, Sirena thought. She studied him as they danced. His sense of fashion was indisputable, and he wore his frothy white linen and severely cut silver-gray doublet with a flair. His legs were long and well shaped and he seemed not to care for the current fashion of adorning himself with an abundance of jewelry, save for the ruby stickpin in his cravat and a simple, masculine onyx ring on his finger.
His gray eyes were warm with golden lights as they appraised her, and his mouth was full; yet there was nothing weak or feminine about it. Rather, it was well defined and curvaceously shaped beneath a well-trimmed, steel-gray mustache which was just a shade darker than his full head of hair. His arms were strong and his hands square and able. As he talked, Sirena found herself enjoying his company. Sir Stephen Langdon was well versed in the social graces and immediately put her at ease.
“Will you allow me to show you our fair city of London?” he inquired, his arm fast about her waist, his voice warm and sincere. “Nothing would give me more pleasure than to take you to Whitehall and flaunt you before the court or take you for an excursion through Saint James’ Park.”
“I would like that very much, Sir Langdon,” Sirena replied, smiling up into his face.
“Please, as a relative of the Baron and Baroness shouldn’t we find ourselves on more familiar terms? My given name is Stephan.”
“Then Stephan it will be. And please do call me Sirena.”
“Sirena—how fitting a name for you. Yet, do I detect hidden excitement behind those incredible eyes of yours?” he asked flirtatiously.
Sirena dropped her glance to the floor, not wanting to reveal just how excited she was by the plan she was forming in her mind.
“I did not mean to embarrass you, Sirena. Still, a man can find himself lost in those green depths. Certainly, I’m not the first to tell you this.”
“No, not the first,” Sirena said coyly, “yet a lady likes to hear it all the same.” The music came to an end and Sirena was amused at the petulant look on Sir Langdon’s face.
“I had hoped the music would have continued forever,” he murmured in a husky voice that, in spite of herself, Sirena found thrilling. His hand on her arm as he led her back to Tyler was gentle, yet there was a certain possessiveness that remained even after he removed it.
“I trust you will allow me to call upon you,” he said, lifting her hand and touching his lips to her fingers.
“Please do, Sir Langdon—Stephan,” she amended. “I will look forward to seeing you. But you must forgive me this night for I am very tired and must beg Tyler to see me home. Baron, Baroness,” she said to Tyler’s parents, “there is no way to thank you for the wonderful welcome you’ve so graciously extended me. Especially, you, Baroness Sinclair, for all the help you’ve been in readying a home for me. You must allow me to reciprocate your hospitality as soon as possible.”
Baroness Sinclair smiled warmly. She sincerely liked this lovely, young Spaniard and was delighted in Tyler’s obvious interest in her. “Yes, my dear,” she said in a motherly tone, “I can imagine how trying things have been for you tonight. However, there was little to be done about it, you know.” By the Baroness’ tone and expression Sirena knew she was apologizing for Regan and Camilla’s presence. “However,” the Baroness continued, “I am glad you count the Baron and me among your friends. London is a strange city.” Her expression grew guarded and warning. “Please not to take everyone at face value. There are those who are acceptable in society’s drawing rooms, dear, who are quite unacceptable under other circumstances.”