Page 46 of A Siren for the Duke

“I am not asking you to ask her to act as a spy. But perhaps a dance and a conversation will prove to be enlightening.”

Lionel dug his fingers into the arm of the richly upholstered chair. He knew that catching Gervase Dartmouth was of the utmost importance to the Navy and to Parliament, but he did not want to risk Jemima to do it.

“I don’t think I can risk her,” Lionel said quietly.

“Then we shall think of another way. I thought perhaps my Mrs. could shake something out of him, but Dartmouth knows we’re married. He’d immediately suspect.”

“I wouldn’t want you to risk your wife, either,” Lionel asserted. “I shall think of my own way.”

“Excellent,” said Mr. Sherwood. “He has planned an extended stay of at least a few weeks, so if you are also planning on staying long, we at least have time.”

Truthfully, Lionel did not know when he would be leaving. The cargo was already unloaded, and it would take a day or two to load the new cargo, but he liked Jamaica and he wanted to help Jemima get settled with her aunt. Or that was his excuse to himself for wanting to stay.

“Indeed. Now, if you will excuse me, I must seek out my first mate and warn him of Dartmouth’s presence,” Lionel said, standing up.

“Of course. There is no need to stand on ceremony, Captain. We are friends, after all.”

Friends? Why, they’d only barely spoken, and already the ambassador was asking favors of him. Lionel left the study with an uneasy feeling.

* * *

Jemima stood before the full-length mirror, her heart pounding with anticipation. The soft glow of candlelight bathed the tropical bedroom. Combined with the sun setting in the distance, it infused the room with a beautiful golden glow. She took a deep breath, reveling in the delicate fragrance of jasmine and sandalwood that lingered in the air.

The maid, Esther, stood behind Jemima. They’d quickly found some camaraderie. In England, Jemima was friendly with the staff at home, but here in Jamaica, she found that she could speak a little more freely. Esther’s nimble fingers deftly fastened the delicate buttons of the gown. The creamy orange fabric hugged Jemima's figure, its intricate embroidery at the collar and hem adding a touch of elegance to her ensemble. Esther stepped back to admire her work, a pleased smile gracing her lips.

"Ye’re a vision, me lady," Esther said, her voice filled with admiration. "This gown suits ye perfectly." Jemima loved her accent. She’d never heard anything so pleasant.

Jemima's fingers brushed over the fine fabric, marveling at its softness.

"Thank you, Esther. I feel transformed, as if I belong in a different world."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Esther looked to Jemima to make sure it was alright, then opened it when Jemima consented. Mrs. Sherwood entered the room, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She, too, looked stunning—in a silken gown of deep blue, wearing a white turban with a peacock feather and a gold broach. Jemima had seen such fashion on ladies in England, but on Elena, it looked more natural and thus more beautiful. She circled around Jemima, inspecting every detail of her attire.

"Absolutely stunning," Elena exclaimed, her voice filled with delight. "The color complements your complexion beautifully. No more staying inside for you—clearly, the sun likes you.”

Jemima blushed, a mix of gratitude and nervousness coursing through her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Sherwood. I cannot express how grateful I am for your kindness."

Elena's smile was warm and reassuring.

"It is my pleasure, Jemima. It is not often I receive such kind visitors. It is usually all business relating to my husband’s endeavors. If you plan to stay in Jamaica, as you say, I should like us to be friends.”

There was a little bit of unease in Jemima’s spirit at hearing those words. If she did not locate her aunt soon, she might very well have to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood—or go back to England and face the wrath of her mother and brother. Being stranded in a shipwreck was preferable to that.

But tonight she would allow herself some fun. As Jemima turned back to the mirror, her gaze fell upon her intricately braided hair. Each strand had been expertly arranged, forming an elegant crown atop her head. She had never seen her hair styled in such a manner, and a thrill of excitement coursed through her veins.

"The hairstyle is breathtaking, Esther," Jemima said, her voice filled with wonder. "I have never felt so regal."

The two Jamaican women laughed softly, their eyes reflecting Jemima's joy.

You are a queen tonight, my dear. Now it is time for us to make our grand entrance,” Mrs. Sherwood said, and looped her arm with Jemima’s. With one last thank you to Esther, Jemima, and Elena made their way to the ballroom downstairs.

Once downstairs, the heavy carved wooden doors swung open, revealing a sight that took Jemima's breath away. The ballroom was an opulent spectacle, bathed in a soft, golden glow. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting sparkling patterns on the polished marble floor below. The room was alive with a kaleidoscope of colors, brought to life by vibrant tapestries and delicate frescoes adorning the walls.

But it was the tropical beauty that greeted Jemima's eyes that truly stole her breath. Lush palm fronds intertwined with cascades of exotic flowers to create a mesmerizing canopy overhead. Orchids in vibrant hues of pink and purple, hibiscus blossoms in shades of red and orange, and fragrant frangipani flowers seemed to dance on every surface, infusing the air with their sweet perfume.

Jemima stood rooted to the spot, her eyes wide with wonder. She had attended grand balls in England, where opulent displays of flowers adorned the ballrooms, but the tropical splendor of Jamaica was an entirely different enchantment. The sheer abundance and exotic beauty of the flora left her awe-struck.