Cloudy with a Chance of Marriage

“Yes,” she replied. “We parted ways soon after we arrived.”

“Any problems there?”

“No.” She had no desire to let him know of her humiliation. “At least I gained entrance to the ballroom, thanks to her invitation.”

Captain Arrow looked at her with an inscrutable expression. “I’m not sure I believe things were easy between you.”

“It’s no concern of yours,” she said smoothly. “I can take care of myself. Meanwhile, we have to devise a plan to catch the Prince Regent’s attention.”

“There is no plan. I’ll simply introduce you, and then you shall charm him into coming to Dreare Street.”

“Captain,” Jilly remonstrated. “We need a better arrangement than that. I’m not the charming type.”

“Which is actually why I find you so charming,” he said low.

She swallowed and looked up at him. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

She bit her lip and looked away. “Despite what happened earlier today, I’m not in the market for flirtation.”

“Be that as it may, I find it hard to resist flirting with you.” His tone was quite sincere.

She looked back at him, so handsome and impressive in evening dress. “I’m a substantial person, Captain. I —I can’t play about as if life were a mere game. It’s serious business to me. I must make my living at the bookstore. I’m a woman alone, and I … I want to stay that way.”

“Why?” He came closer. “Why, Miss Jones, should someone as warm and lovely as you want to stay alone?”

She stared up at him. “Because there’s no pain.”

Around them the crowd grew thicker and louder. He stared at her a moment. “I knew there was something you weren’t telling me,” he said, and pulled her by the hand to the garden doors flung open at the back of the ballroom. “Come with me.”

She dug in her heels, which was impossible, really, on the marble floor, but she managed to stop their forward progression. “Please. Don’t. You mustn’t listen so closely to everything I say. I only meant, I prefer my simple life to the complications that must come with having a … a larger life.”

He looked at her with a grave expression. “Simple life? That’s an interesting way to describe hiding.” He dropped her hand.

She froze for a moment, flustered at his choice of words.

Hiding.

He couldn’t know. And as far as she was concerned, he never would. It really wasn’t fair that she must keep her guard up at all times. But it was the price she must pay for her freedom.

“Remember our purpose,” she said, striving to keep her tone light. “We’re going to have a street fair to end all street fairs. Dreare Street will wake up. People will notice it again but in a good way. You’ll be able to sell your house. I’ll get more customers. We’ll move forward with our lives.”

“You’re right.” His tone was dry.

Now their aloneness in the middle of a vast crowd of merrymakers no longer felt cozy and warm. Something felt sad. Off.

“Shall we go see Prinny?” she suggested in a festive manner, but her heart was heavy.

“I suppose so,” the captain answered testily.

He was angry she wouldn’t go to the garden with him, but didn’t he know why?

She’d surrender. And that was where her greatest danger lay.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Stephen always enjoyed a challenge. His most difficult was Miss Jones. Yes, he’d merely wanted a scorching flirtation, and the events that had transpired at Hodgepodge had convinced him they had one, but he still wasn’t satisified.

He wasn’t sure why. But something in him wanted more from her. Much more.

But what exactly?

He craved touching her, but he also liked sparring with her, telling her about his life, laughing with her, and simply being with her. He wished more than anything that she’d tell him about herself, but she’d made it clear she wanted to be left alone.

The secondary challenge of convincing the Prince Regent to visit the unluckiest street in Mayfair seemed easy in comparison to the problem that was Miss Jones.

Yet twenty minutes after Stephen’s revealing conversation with her—and their mutual commitment to gain access to the royal—they still hadn’t succeeded.

“He’s surrounded by a most annoying crowd,” Stephen said. “Most of them drunk and belligerent if anyone dares attempt to break into their circle.”

“There’s even a circle around the circle,” Miss Jones observed, an adorable pucker on her brow. “Did you see the look on their faces when you told them you were one of Prinny’s Impossible Bachelors and must speak to him? They couldn’t have cared less.”

She bit her thumb and stared at Prinny’s minions, political and otherwise.

“What are you thinking?” Stephen asked her.

“What you’re thinking.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”

She blushed. “You’re thinking we’ll use your naval strategies to get to him.”

“Is that so?” He couldn’t help admiring her bravado. “Tell me more about my thoughts, Miss Jones.”

“Very well.” He heard the catch of excitement in her voice. “Imagine him, Captain, as the pirate’s galleon you have to capture. And he’s surrounded by a fleet of smaller ships, all with loaded cannons.”

He chuckled. “You’re mad.” A beat passed. “But I like the way you think.”

She grinned. “When you’ve devised the plan”—she nudged him with an elbow, probably to remind him not to get too close, physically or otherwise—“you’ll know where to find me. I’ll be with Lumley, taking him up on his offer.”

And then she took off.

“Don’t waltz with him!” Stephen called after her, feeling oddly protective. He didn’t want any man getting ideas about her, not even Lumley.

But she must not have heard him. She was already wending her way through the crowds.

Reluctantly, he returned his attention to the Prince Regent. It only made sense that he’d have to stage a diversion. That would call off the smaller “ships”—the sycophants and political advisors—and then he’d take the prince broadside in an all-out attack, using every weapon he had at his disposal.

The best one, of course, was Miss Jones.

While he was cogitating, an imposing male with a broad grin approached.

“Harry!” Stephen clasped his good friend on the shoulder, and they shook hands.

“Glad you’re on English soil again,” Harry said heartily.

He was followed by a pert brunette who smiled from ear to ear when she saw him. “Stephen!” she cried, and hugged him round the waist.

“Molly Traemore.” He hugged her back then held her at arm’s length. “You’re stunning tonight. More beautiful than I’ve ever seen you. And I think I know why.”

Molly nodded happily and looked down at her stomach, her hand pressed to it with tender care. “We didn’t want to write. We wanted to tell you in person.”

“But you’ve been noticeably absent from our home since your ship came in,” Harry said with an arched brow. “That usually means you’re having too much fun to be bothered.”

Molly tapped his arm with her fan. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Stephen said, “if you call having a house on an unlucky street and a meddlesome neighbor embroiling