Page 57 of A Siren for the Duke

“I simply do not wish to see you hurt again. Men are fickle creatures. They say what they will to seduce young ladies, but their actions don’t often match their words. I simply wish you to exercise caution.”

Jemima wondered what her aunt could possibly mean by this. It seemed as though her words held more weight, but Jemima could not decipher their meaning.

“Lionel is a good man. It is different this time; I can feel it,” she insisted.

Her aunt patted her arm in comfort.

“I still do not want to see you throw caution to the wind. Please be careful. That is all I ask.”

Jemima nodded dutifully. “Of course.”

Eliza brushed her hands on her gown as she stood up.

“Now, like I said—the green gown. And I’ll send up a maid to dress your hair.”

“Thank you, Aunt. Your kindness is unmatched. I shall have to repay you somehow.”

“No need,” Eliza said. “We are family, after all. We look after each other.”

Jemima couldn’t help but feel there was a double meaning behind her words, but what it was, she could not figure it out. So, she laid the green gown out on the bed and began to choose accessories for the ball.

* * *

Lionel reluctantly stepped into the grand ballroom, his heart weighed down by a sense of unease. The vibrant, tropical setting seemed to mock his dour mood, its lushness a stark contrast to the dull, drab English ballrooms he was accustomed to. As he scanned the room, he couldn't help but feel like a fish out of water, an imposter amidst the lively colors and exuberant energy.

The invitation to this soirée felt more like a pressgang than a voluntary appearance. He often sought refuge in solitude, preferring the quiet contemplation of his own thoughts to the superficiality of society gatherings. But his conversation with Lady Upton earlier that afternoon lingered in his mind, so he found himself somewhat of a prisoner in this tropical paradise. The sounds of string and reed instruments hummed through the air, mingling with laughter and conversation, as Lionel's eyes scanned the crowd, desperately seeking a familiar face. He needed to find the Duke and set right this whole affair. Yet, as his gaze darted from person to person, he found no trace of Ferdinand's familiar face. Gervase Dartmouth was present, but he wasn’t even thinking about that whole situation.

The ballroom itself was a sight to behold. Its opulence spoke of wealth and privilege, the walls adorned with intricate tapestries depicting exotic birds and lush landscapes. Orchids in vibrant hues clung to trellises, their sweet fragrance mingling with the scent of perfume and freshly cut flowers. Crystal chandeliers cascaded light, casting a shimmering glow over the revelers below.

Lionel's eyes were drawn to the dance floor, where couples twirled and swayed in perfect harmony. The women's gowns were a kaleidoscope of colors, like delicate butterflies fluttering amidst a bed of flowers. The men, dashing in their tailored suits, spun their partners with practiced ease, their movements seemingly effortless.

Ellis appeared at his side just then.

“Have you washed your uniform since we’ve been on land?” his first mate asked teasingly.

“This is my ceremonial coat, Ellis. How do you not recognize it?” he asked dryly.

Ellis peered at him curiously.

“Are you alright, Lionel? You seem a little perturbed.”

Lionel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. His first mate usually called him sir or captain, especially in formal settings, so the use of his Christian name meant he was properly concerned.

“Ellis…” he said slowly, wondering if he should spill the truth. It was weighing on him so much, and it would be nice to let someone else share the burden. “I am not entirely alright. In fact, I am terrified.” His voice was low and quiet as he spoke.

“Terrified? Whatever for?”

Lionel pulled Ellis closer to the wall, away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

“Our stowaway.”

Ellis’s face fell. “My God, man. You did not compromise her, did you? Is there a child on the way?”

Lionel’s face scrunched up as if he’d smelt something terrible.

“What? No, that’s not it. I... Well. You understand we have a shared history by now.”

“I gathered that, yes,” Ellis said, nodding.