Chapter Fourteen
Caleb sat with his knees drawn to his chin on the sparkling decks of the Rana as his gaze followed Lord Farrington and the workmen who were busily following the dapper gentleman’s orders. He watched as gaming equipment and box after box of decorations, befitting an exclusive gambling parlor, were brought aboard. There was a wary look in his dark, luminous eyes as he imagined the expression on Sirena’s face should she ever see the way her ship was outfitted. And Caleb was certain that sooner or later she would see it. Lord Farrington had told him, only this morning, that handbills were being printed to be distributed through London.
The argument between himself and the aristocratic lord still rankled Caleb, but he was glad to have won. Lord Farrington had presented the idea of having the hull of the Rana opened and a dockside room attached, forever condemning the frigate to be moored to land. Caleb had immediately negated the idea, refusing to alter the ship in any way which would impede her seaworthiness.
The soft lap of water against the hull of the ship had an hypnotic effect as Caleb leaned against the quarterdeck rail. He let his eyes travel to the top of the mizzenmast and wished fervently he was out to sea. The back-breaking hours of being a longshoreman had taken their toll. He knew that particular life wasn’t for him, but he didn’t give up until yesterday when Aubrey Farrington said the gaming equipment was due to arrive. Until that moment, Caleb didn’t believe he had agreed to the lord’s proposition. Now, it was a reality.
He watched a gull as it swooped toward the shoreline, then take wing and soar overhead. He wished he had someone to talk to, someone other than Farrington, who only cared to discuss business and profits. When he tired of that subject, he would invariably switch to women. Caleb wished Willem or Jan were aboard so he could exchange sea tales. The two old salts would have plenty to say and would entertain him as they had on many nights in Java. It had been a long time, too long. Thoughts of Sirena and Regan seeped into his mind and he quickly pushed them away.
Lord Aubrey Farrington tapped Caleb’s shoulder with the tip of his walking stick. “Cal, the men have been telling me of a pirate operating in these waters. I think it best if we take a few precautionary measures to assure the safety of our profits, and our patrons, of course.”
An old, familiar feeling churned in Caleb’s gut as he stared in disbelief. “What did you say?”
“I said there is word of a pirate operating in the waters off the southern coast. A ship belonging to van der Rhys was sacked and came limping into port with the news. I said we should take a few measures to protect ourselves, sitting out here on the wharf this way.”
Caleb’s mind raced. Regan’s ship! Sirena wouldn’t! Not again! He schooled his face to hide his emotions and asked, “What manner of pirate vessel was it?”
“By the stars, Cal, how should I know? A pirate ship, an ordinary pirate ship, whatever that may be!”
Caleb hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until the dapper lord uttered his last words absolving Sirena. She certainly wasn’t an “ordinary” pirate and, if indeed it was she who sacked Regan’s ship, she would have been certain he would know it.
“Well, boy, do you agree we should hire guards?” Aubrey tapped Caleb impatiently with his walking stick again.
“Get that damn thing away from me before I break it over your back! I’ve told you before I don’t like it!” Caleb threatened and Lord Farrington cautiously lifted the stick out of his grasp. “As far as protection from the pirates, that’s ridiculous. But I do agree to taking on a few men to safeguard our cash box from the scoundrels loitering about the docks.”
“Yes, I agree,” Lord Farrington said smoothly, “whatever you think best,” he walked away from Caleb, his stick tapping the deck.
An uneasy feeling settled between Caleb’s shoulder blades as he got to his feet. His brown eyes narrowed as he stared across the water at the horizon, to another time and another place, remembering ... remembering...
At the top of the wide, curving staircase in the Sinclair townhouse on the Pall Mall, Baroness Helen Sinclair marched haughtily in front of her husband, her thin form bespeaking her indignation. She was angry, angry enough to spit, and she minced no words in proclaiming this.
“Make no excuses to me, Charles. You had very poor judgment in inviting Stephan Langdon to my dinner party!”
“Helen, dear,” Baron Sinclair pleaded, “what would you have had me do? When Stephan approached me, he already knew the invitations for your little soirée were out. He simply stated that perhaps his fool of a housekeeper had misplaced it I knew what he was aiming at; I couldn’t profess ignorance.”
“Oh, couldn’t you?” the Baroness looked down her long nose at her husband. “I should never know why! Charles, when will you learn that Stephan Langdon is ignorant beyond insult?”
Floundering for an excuse as to why he went over his wife’s head to invite Sir Langdon to the dinner, Baron Sinclair said innocently, “Stephan seems genuinely interested in our lovely Sirena and she also seems quite taken with him. Perhaps a match is in the making.”
“Over my dead body,” the Baroness muttered as she lifted the hem of her gown to step down the stairs. No sooner had she settled herself on a settee covered in rich ruby brocade when the first-floor maid announced Sirena and Sir Langdon and showed them into the drawing room where the Sinclairs were enjoying the brightly burning hearth.
As always, the Baroness drew in her breath at Sirena’s loveliness, who today was wearing a copper-colored silk which enhanced her fragile ivory skin and shining dark hair. Now, why can’t Tyler find himself in love with her, the Baroness thought sourly, disapproving of her son’s taste in women. She sighed inwardly, realizing that a man like Tyler could never be a match for the fiery Spaniard. Sirena needed a man like Regan van der Rhys to compliment her beauty and spirit. A man who could take control and offer a constant challenge to her. Tyler was yet a boy compared to Regan. How sad that the marriage between the Dutchman and this beautiful creature had gone awry.
“How lovely you are today,” the Baroness said sincerely, extending her hand in greeting.
“Thank you,” Sirena smiled. “Your drawing room is lovely, Baroness.”
“I ordered the materials from your homeland, Sirena, and brought a draper from Spain to see to the decorating. I’m pleased you like it.”
Sirena smiled again and accepted a glass of sherry from the Baron. “Tell me, Sirena,” he asked, “how did you enjoy your trip to Ireland?”
Sirena sipped the cordial and looked at the Baron over the rim of the crystal glass. “It was ... interesting,” she said softly.
“I’d like to see some of the laces you brought back from Waterford,” the Baroness stated.
“Laces and crystal, Baroness. As a matter of fact, you will receive a small gift of the most exquisite glasses I’ve ever seen. It should arrive in a day or two. As for the laces, I’d love to show them to you. Perhaps later in the week. They are so delicate and novel in design. I must commend Tyler on his choice of investment. A woman never has enough ribbons and laces.”
Baron Sinclair, having little interest in the topic under discussion other than the potential profit to be gained, spoke to Stephan Langdon. “Have you heard that van der Rhys lost a cargo to pirates?”
“Everyone had heard of it,” Stephan said harshly. “And to think they sail in English waters! It’s not to be tolerated.”
“I heard the Dutchman was in a murderous mood when the news was brought to him. The story making the rounds is that he seemed a bit tetched, peculiar. He demanded to know if the pirates were led by a woman. Did you ever hear of anything so outrageous?”
Sirena placed her glass on a small table and raised her eyes to Baron Sinclair. The heavy, black fringe of lashes hid the sparkle in her emerald eyes. “Several years ago there was a tale of a woman pirate that originated in the East Indies. They say there was no seaman her equal. She fought and cursed like a man, and was said to be the most beautiful woman ever to sail those waters. Men named her the Sea Siren, but I understand the Dutch East India Company and its stockholders had other names for her.” Sirena smiled, a cool, enigmatic expression that caught Stephan Langdon’s eye and interest. “Some say she was a myth, others say she was real and that she still roams the waters searching for prey. I myself inquired of Mynheer van der Rhys if there was any validity to the story since he recently came from the Indies. He told me there was no such person, and, if there was, she’s dead now. Knowing this, I don’t understand why he should ask about a woman pirate. Perhaps there is something to the rumor that he’s a bit unstable.”
all eyes turned to Sirena, listening attentively as she continued. “I’ve no doubt it was pirates who plundered the van der Rhys cargo. Why, just today, I stopped by Tyler’s office and he told me a rather wicked rumor. It seems the pirate offered to sell van der Rhys back his own cargo for double what he paid. Ingenious, wouldn’t you say?”
“Quite,” Langdon said, sipping his wine. “Perhaps that explains Regan’s foul mood when he came to call on Camilla. That and the confrontation he had with several ruffians who attacked him and left him with a rather nasty cut on his right cheek.”
“You sound so bitter, Stephan,” the Baroness said snidely. “One would believe Regan’s fortunes, or misfortunes if you will, were your own.” Baroness Helen shot Stephan a speculating glance. Lifting her tone, she asked, “Speaking of Camilla, how is the dear child?”
“Very content with the betrothal. And, as you know, Helen, Camilla’s happiness is foremost in my heart.” Now it was Stephan’s turn to throw the Baroness a smirking look. “By the end of the evening she will have him smiling out of his black mood. He’s quite enamored of my daughter, you know. One has only to see the way he stares at her. He absolutely dotes on the child.”
“Doesn’t it annoy you, Stephan, that the Dutchman is nearly old enough to be Camilla’s father? You English, I’m finding, have a tendency to be indulgent with your children,” Sirena laughed, amusement bubbling in her green eyes.
“Camilla needs a strong hand,” Stephan said firmly, defending the situation between Camilla and Regan.
“A strong hand should be her father’s responsibility. A girl doesn’t need two fathers, Stephan. A husband should be a lover,” Sirena purred.
“She’s right,” the Baroness noted sharply. “Whatever were you thinking of to allow Camilla to become involved with the Dutchman?”
Stephan sighed. “The girl has a mind of her own and once she set her sights on him there was little I could do. Besides, he’s quite wealthy and a poor, motherless child could do worse, and my little Camilla does love him.”
Regan or his money? Sirena thought nastily. She lowered her gaze and offered the Baroness a conspiratorial wink which the regal lady returned.
The dinner party was a success. Sirena and Sir Langdon were joined by eight other couples and all enjoyed the Sinclairs’ lavish hospitality.
Because of the Baroness’ maternal interest in Sirena, a broad spectrum of society accepted this visitor from Spain with open arms. She was beautiful, intelligent and rich! If any other qualities were necessary to become society’s little darling, nobody found them lacking in Sirena. Her entrance into the closed ranks of London’s ton was successfully accomplished.
Much later, when the evening was nearly at an end, the other guests gone, and only Sirena and Stephan remained, the Baroness and Sirena withdrew to a far comer of the drawing room while the Baron and Stephan enjoyed a private smoke in the library.
The ladies, left to themselves, discussed a variety of topics—the weather, lace, and the balls which were being held. Finally, the Baroness could stand it no longer. Fully aware of the wary look in Sirena’s eyes, she attacked forcefully, intent on learning the truth. “You still love him, don’t you, dear?”
“Yes,” Sirena answered softly, turning her face away from the glowing lamplight, her features cast in mysterious shadows.
“And you’ll do whatever necessary to get him back?”
“Yes.”
“Even if he loves another?”
“No, not if he truly loved another. He doesn’t love Camilla Langdon. He loved me once. He can’t have forgotten,” she whispered, the passion of her statement charging the air.
“Just suppose, now I said suppose, that what you say is untrue. Suppose he no longer loves you, can never love you again? What would you do?” the Baroness asked, concern lining her otherwise smooth brow.
“What will I do? I think I should simply die. There’s no life in me without Regan. He’s mine by right of marriage; my religion forbids divorce. In my eyes we are still married and will remain so until death parts us. Not whimsical secular laws. I won’t spend my life being half alive. I want it all or nothing!” The eyes Sirena turned to the Baroness were so filled with grief, so tortured with rejection, the older woman was caught in their glimmering sadness.
“But, dear, what can you do? You can’t make someone love you!”
“Please, Baroness, no more questions. All I know is I must do what I must do. The circumstances between Regan and myself were my doing and I must try to rectify that mistake in the only way I know how.”
The Baroness gazed at Sirena with genuine fondness. If only Tyler were man enough for this woman, what sons they would have! “I understand, Sirena, I really do. If there is anything I can do, you have only to ask.”
“You are very kind, but this is something I must do alone. But I beg you to remember that I love him.”
The Baroness wondered vaguely if she would have gone to any lengths for Charles. She thought not. It sounded like a great deal of trouble for one man. Still, Charles wasn’t Regan van der Rhys. She shrugged as the men entered the room, Tyler behind them, returned from a dinner engagement. His chestnut eyes lit up at the sight of Sirena; and, after greeting his mother, he bowed low over her hand and brought her fingers to his lips.
“Tyler, how elegant you are,” Sirena laughed. “And who was the lucky lady this evening?”
“Some little drab,” he answered, his mouth turned downward. “I was literally forced into this evening by the girl’s mother. Since the family is a client of mine, I could not refuse.”
“Tell us what we missed, son,” his mother smiled indulgently.
“The usual,” Tyler said sourly. “Rich food, flat wine and dancing. The musicians left much to be desired. The conversation at dinner was lively, however,” he grinned. “Regan van der Rhys regaled the party with the tale of his pirated ship. It seems the scurves offered to sell him his cargo back at double the price.”
“Don’t keep us in suspense, Tyler, what did the Dutchman do?” the Baroness asked, her gaze going between her handsome son and the lovely Spaniard. Was she wrong or was there a private understanding between the two?
Tyler suppressed his excitement. “He said he has no other choice. He must regain those goods to honor the contracts with his clients, else his reputation will suffer. For a fledgling business, it is to be avoided at all costs.”
“How terrible for the poor man,” Sirena pretended sympathy. “How often can his business survive such attacks?” she asked, her voice low and throaty, her eyes keen and sharp.
Tyler shrugged, his own glance anxious and wary. “Who can say? It depends on how much he has invested.”
Sir Stephan Langdon’s aloof gray eyes were disturbed and his tone bordered on panic. “Are you telling me the Dutchman is near ruin?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I said it depends on how much of his capital he had invested. He could well lose it all and still be far from ruination. Only a fool puts all his eggs in one basket and that van der Rhys is far from being.”
Langdon’s face showed relief and Sirena wanted to slap his face till his teeth rattled. If Regan were penniless, Stephan would snatch the lovely Camilla away so quickly he’d leave her breathless. It always came down to the size of the bank account, she thought sadly. Poor Regan, he should only know.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a long day,” Tyler said, getting to his feet He favored Sirena with a heavy-lidded wink before quitting the room.
“The Dutchman should never have acceded to the pirate’s demands,” Charles Sinclair said in a miffed tone. “In doing so, he jeopardizes all British trade. Still, it’s been quite a while since London has seen this kind of excitement, eh?” He directed his question to Stephan.
“A pity we won’t see it through to the end,” Baroness Helen interjected. “We will be leaving for Scotland shortly. Affairs of family holding,” she said to Sirena. “We may never learn how Mr. van der Rhys settles his affairs.”
“Before you leave, Stephan, there’s something I’d like to ask you,” Baron Sinclair interrupted his wife. He was loath to hear again how she detested the barbarous Scots and their hostile country. “While at my club this afternoon, a group of us were decrying the fact that our young sons of England are deprived of proper training in the art of fencing. A group of us would like to institute such instruction and, naturally, your name was mentioned. We feel it would be a profitable endeavor and would attract scions from all of London. A short-term project actually. We would like you to come in on it with us, Langdon, if you would consider seeing to it that the boys were correctly taught. Since you are an expert of renown, your name would have quite a draw in recruiting students. The tuition would be rather stiff and, if you would agree, you wouldn’t be asked to take part in the financing of the school. Your efforts with the students would be your contribution and we all seem to think the profits would be handsome.”
“Stephan, there seems to be so much I don’t know about you,” Sirena murmured. “I had no idea you were a fencing master.”
“The best!” Baron Charles bragged as he slapped Stephan soundly on his back. “The very best. He’s never lost a match to my knowledge.”
“I hope it doesn’t upset you, Sirena,” Stephan said anxiously. “Some women frown on such accomplishments.”
“On the contrary. I find it a very masculine sport,” she answered quietly, her face composed. “Perhaps one day you will teach me something about it. I understand the women in France find it an amusing sport.”
“I should be honored,” Stephan responded in his courtly manner. “I will leave it to you to name the time and place.”
In the carriage on the short ride back to Sirena’s house, a change seemed to have taken place in Stephan. He was almost withdrawn. Sirena thought he would be full of ideas concerning the fencing academy. But he remained quiet, answering only when spoken to. Taking sidelong glances at Stephan, Sirena scrutinized this man who had become her almost constant escort. He was rakishly handsome and the moonlight, spilling through the coach window, reflected off his silvery hair. His complexion was a bit swarthy and his teeth perfect. She had noted his athletic build earlier, and now she knew how he came by it. Fencing was a demanding sport and one which required top physical condition. She decided he must have enjoyed a reputation as a lothario in his younger days. There was still a certain sensuality about him. At times, when she caught him unawares, she saw him watching her and there would be a certain excitement behind his aloof stare. A titillating excitement she found somewhat pleasing coming from a man of his ilk.
It was gratifying to know that an attractive man found her desirable after Regan’s rejection. As though reading her thoughts, Stephan placed his arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. Gently, he placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face to look down into her eyes. “Do you know how beautiful you are, Sirena?” he breathed, his voice husky. Slowly, seductively, he covered her mouth with his own in a long, searching kiss. His arms tightened about her and she felt the strength in them and succumbed to it. Stephan was a most attractive man, yet Sirena was surprised by the response she experienced. And when his hand cupped her breast, she allowed it to remain there and enjoyed a small, womanly thrill to be found exciting by a virile, worldly man.
When the coach pulled into the drive to her house, Sirena extracted herself from his arms. She wanted no mistaken impressions that she would allow him to stay the night.
Stephan did not protest her action. Once again, he fell into the same silence and somehow Sirena suspected he was thinking about Regan’s money, or the lack of it, whichever the case may be. He walked with her to the entrance and waited till Frau Holtz appeared. Bowing over her hand, he took his leave and Sirena watched him with a frown at the corners of her mouth.
Regan sat in his unheated office poring over his ledgers and papers. The hour was late and his head throbbed. The figures in the columns swam before his tired eyes. If he had more time, just a little more time, he could build a thriving enterprise. If he had it, he could liquidate some of Sirena’s holdings to cash, thereby giving him more capital to work with. He had been a fool to start on such a large scale with so little cash and hope that sheer effort would insure success.
Now, he had Tyler Sinclair breathing down his neck demanding shares for Sirena in lieu of pounds sterling. With no other alternative, he had reluctantly agreed. He couldn’t see to affairs here on land and be at sea with his ships to protect the cargoes as well. Life had been so simple in Batavia. What in the name of God ever possessed him to come to England? He longed for the warm, easterly trade winds and the ripe, golden sun. If he had dug in his heels on Java, things may have worked themselves through for him and Sirena. Now, since she had come to England, things had gone from bad to worse.
He rubbed at his aching eyes as a vision of Camilla rose before him. He could always arrange to have the wedding moved up to a closer date and then he could take control of Camilla’s dowry. Only temporarily, until he settled his debts. He would make it clear to her in the beginning. He resolved he would return every penny. He had learned his lesson. Never again would he be accused of stealing a woman’s money.
There was no point in working the figures over again. Staring at them and wishing wasn’t going to change them. Why was he lying to himself? Why didn’t he admit he didn’t want to go home? He had no home, not really. He remembered his fine house in Batavia and then he compared it to the luxurious mansion which Sirena occupied. Just Sirena living there made her house a home. Frau Holtz’s scrupulous care kept it spotless, not like the hap-hazard cleaning methods of his lazy housekeeper.
In a split second his life flashed before him and he knew in that instant he had made the biggest mistake of his entire adult years. One he couldn’t alter or repair. Or could he? In order to amend the situation, he would have to go to Sirena and admit his wrong actions. Also, he would have to explain to Camilla that the marriage was off. He would have to face Caleb and the boy would know that Sirena had won again. He would have to close his offices and face the fact that his business had been a fiasco.
Regan pounded his fist on the desk. “No! Never!” he shouted into the echoing darkness. He wouldn’t give up! He’d not make that error again. This time he would dig in his heels and make the best of it. If he could simply find some way to get his next shipment to Scotland, he might salvage the enterprise. Caleb would help him. Caleb could sail the cargo for him and wait for payment. The first thing in the morning he would find his son and put forth the offer. And at the same time he would see about liquidating more of the holdings.
Locking the door behind him, Regan stepped out into the gray before dawn. His shoulders slumped as he made his way through the crooked alleys to Lime Street. The closer he got to his house, the heavier his feet lagged. The damp mist circled around him and wrapped him in its arms. His tired eyes were bitter and his mouth was tight. The thin, S-shaped line on his cheek was raw and stiff. He touched his fingers to it lightly and felt a stab of humiliation. Sirena had branded him with her initial. His reason told him it was merely a coincidence, but something deeper, more basic, recoiled at the knowledge that, given a chance, Sirena would have sat upon his chest and carved her name into his forehead. He felt the stubble of growth on his chin and estimated how long it would take for the beard he had started to cover his disgrace.