Page 3 of The Song of the Siren (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #2)

Hail fellow, well met—or not.

Anne excused herself from the dining room, where the little gathering of women had arranged themselves into smaller groups.

Some were chatting with more animation than others, but for the moment no one was being left out, and even the dowager duchess seemed to be enjoying herself.

Or perhaps especially the dowager duchess, who was telling a rather racy story that Anne was not entirely certain ought to be shared with some of the unmarried ladies, but she was not about to put a stop to it.

The way the dowager had looked at her had been unnerving, and she had no desire to pique the woman’s interest further.

The further away they kept from one another, the better she would like it.

Making her way to the kitchen, intending to take up the extra supplies of cakes and biscuits Mrs Fairway had left ready, Anne ground to a halt in shock at the sight before her.

“Devil take you!” she exclaimed as she looked across the kitchen to see the Marquess of Stonehaven sitting at the end of the kitchen table, chewing his way contentedly through one of the plates of biscuits.

“These are jolly good,” he mumbled, pointing at the half empty plate.

Anne folded her arms, glaring at him. “What are you playing at, Stonehaven? Are you trying to get me ruined for a second time?”

Wiping his mouth with his hand and looking like a small boy caught stealing jam tarts, he returned a sheepish grin, which did not fool Anne for a moment.

“The first time wasn’t my fault, Anne. Nothing to do with me.”

“Oh, you made that very plain, I assure you,” Anne said, surprised by how angry the words were, even after so many years had passed. “So have you decided you’ll have a go now, to make up for it?”

“Good God, I’d forgotten what a termagant you can be,” Stonehaven said, grinning at her. “Is that anyway to greet an old friend?”

“An ex-friend,” Anne clarified. “And one I have no wish to reacquaint myself with.”

“Harsh, Anne,” he said, shaking his head. “Surely we can let bygones be bygones.”

“Certainly, if you go at the same time,” she said pleasantly, moving to the back door and yanking it open. “Goodbye, Stonehaven.”

The marquess pushed to his feet, making her uncomfortably aware of how big he was, and how much room he took up. Somehow, with the passage of time, he had become smaller in her memory. Not in reality, however.

“Anne, be reasonable—”

“That’s Mrs Adamson to you,” she said crisply.

He snorted . “Mrs Adamson . Where on earth did you come up with that notion?”

“Are you going to make trouble, Stonehaven?” she demanded, deciding she had better have things out in the open. She was happy here, and she had made a success of herself, but if it was about to come crashing down about her ears, she’d rather be prepared.

His good humour slipped away, his temper flaring as it did all too often. Not that she was any better. “Curse you, Anne, as if I would! What the hell do you take me for?”

Anne regarded him frankly. Once upon a time he had been her best friend in all the world, and then he had been the man she had believed herself in love with.

Happily, she had been wrong, for that would certainly have been a disaster, but the discovery he was not her knight in shining armour had been a blow all the same. “I don’t know, my lord.”

His mouth thinned. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“You know very well what. Christ, Anne, we’ve known each other since we were children. My name is Lawrence. Use it, damn you.”

Anne took a breath and replied with great deliberation. “If there is nothing else, Lord Stonehaven, I’ll bid you a good day.”

Angry hazel eyes bore into her, his anger so palpable her skin prickled with it, but just as suddenly it vanished, and he let out a breath. “I had forgotten the ease with which you make me lose my mind,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s all coming back to me.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Anne grumbled, folding her arms. “Are you going to tell me what you want? Some of us work for a living, you know.”

His expression clouded and Anne became increasingly apprehensive as she noted the compassion in his eyes. Hell and the devil, was he sorry for her?

“I have come to ask your forgiveness, Anne. I want you to know I have long regretted our argument, and… and I know now that I behaved badly. I was a young fool, selfish and arrogant, and you were right to be furious with me. I looked for you for months after you left, I want you to know that. But you are too clever to be found when you have no desire to be found. I ought to have known that much.”

Anne looked at him suspiciously. Stonehaven was never humble, and she had certainly never seen him contrite. He wanted something, surely? But what the devil did she have that he could possibly want?

“Fine, you’re sorry. Apology accepted. The truth is you did me a favour.

Marrying you would have been a disaster for both of us.

Instead, you set me free. I have a new life, I’m independent and living exactly as I wish, with no one to answer to.

That would not be the case if you had not refused to marry me. ”

“I didn’t refuse,” Stonehaven said, indignation glittering in his eyes.

Anne snorted. “No. You just made it very clear you did not wish to do so, which amounts to the same thing. You knew very well I would never force you to wed me.”

“That’s not how it happened, and what the hell do you mean it would have been a disaster? With hindsight, I think we would have dealt very nicely together.”

Anne stared at him. Her heart gave a panicked thud. Surely… Surely, he could not be considering it. Had he lost what little sense he had? He glared at her, his stance rigidly upright, centuries of breeding visible in every uncompromising line.

Heaven have mercy, he meant to propose to her!

“Stonehaven,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. “Tell me you have not got some maggot in your brain. Tell me you are not thinking of offering for me?”

“And why not?” he demanded, resentment writ large on his face. “Are you too good for me? Am I unworthy of such a grand lady?”

“Oh, Stonehaven,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t—I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Don’t give me that exasperated look and make out like I’m the lunatic,” he growled. “You’re working for a living, Anne. Working! You were born a lady, you were supposed to—”

“Keep your voice down!” she hissed, furious with him.

His jaw snapped shut but she could feel rage burning off him, a wash of heat that seemed to fill the room. Anne took a deep breath. She had to be careful. She had to make her intentions crystal clear, for Stonehaven could be a dog with a bone, but she did not wish to injure his pride.

“I know you will find this hard to understand,” she said, trying to reason with him.

“But I do not need to marry a titled man to find happiness. Or any man, come to that. I am happy. My hotel is my pride and joy, and I love this town. It is my home now, and I am not about to turn my back on everything I have worked for. So, whilst I am aware of the honour you do me, I will not marry you, Stonehaven.”

Stonehaven rolled his eyes. “Very nice. Very prettily said, and that’s well enough for now.

You are young and healthy, and no doubt besieged by admirers even if half the town believe you’re a scarlet woman.

What happens when you are old, Anne? What happens when you have no family and no one to look after you?

What about children, about lineage and history, and all the things we were brought up to believe in? ”

“To the devil with lineage,” she said savagely, all her good intentions going out of the window at the mention of a word that had been thrust under her nose since she was old enough to understand its meaning and that both their father’s believed hers was not good enough for Stonehaven.

“And to the devil with you! I have tried to be polite, but as usual you are too pigheaded to heed me. I won’t marry you, and I won’t change my mind.

Just because your friend has got himself leg-shackled, you think you ought to do the same.

He's happy, and you think, oh yes, I’d like a bit of that.

But you’re a great clodpole, Stonehaven, because the thing is, Beaumarsh is in love with his wife, and she loves him.

Whereas the sight of you makes me want to throw things and you’ve not given me a thought during the past six years! ”

“Fine,” Stonehaven retorted, biting the word out. “Rot here. See if I care. Just don’t come running to me when everything goes to hell and you find yourself destitute.”

“I would rather starve,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

He glared at her and then threw up his hands, stalking to the door. “Good day to you, Mrs Adamson.”

Anne closed it behind him and slid the bolt across.

Clara Halfpenny closed the door of The Mermaid’s Tale and inhaled a deep breath. She’d done it. She had survived an entire hour in company without making a complete fool of herself. Miracles did happen.

Of course, that did not mean she had survived the day.

Having deliberately helped their maid of all work to cook a substantial breakfast followed thereafter by a hefty lunch for her irascible Aunt Edna, she had crept out of the cottage where she was considered an unwelcome guest, delighting in the sound of her aunt snoring.

There was no telling how long the woman would sleep, however, and if Clara had the slightest bit of sense, she would run home as fast as she could.

Yet sense was something she had less and less of recently.

There was some small but determined little devil inside her that had reared its head over the past weeks, and she found herself rebelling in dozens of small ways.