Free Siren's Secret by Trish Albright Page A

just assume anything you hear secondhand is not true, Lady Olivia.”
    “Exactly! But now I can get a firsthand account!” She cut into her fish and chewed thoughtfully while observing him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Mr. Stafford, but you get very tense whenever I mention your family.” She pinched between her eyebrows to indicate. “You frown. Do you know if you do that too much you will have permanent wrinkles from frowning? The muscles get used to going that direction. Isn’t that so, Mr. Andersen?” She turned to his second mate and onboard medical expert for confirmation.
    Andersen grinned with amusement. “Indeed, my lady. I’ve told him so myself.”
    She took a different tack. “This fish is excellent. So fresh.”
    Samuel took a drink of his wine, studying her. She had the look of an inspector bound and determined to get to the bottom of something. He kept his mouth shut.
    “The captain is a top fisherman. Always knows where the fish are,” Andersen said.
    Olivia’s hand froze in midair at the comment. “Really?”
    “Yes, my lady,” Andersen said. “Never seen anyone with a luckier knack for catching fish. It’s like he can hear them talking.”
    Curious, Olivia studied the forkful of fish before her. “If you are using such a talent to capture them to eat”—she held a piece offish up to Stafford, emphasizing her point—“then it hardly seems sporting.”
    “She has a point, Captain,” Mr. Riedell said. He held up a piece of fish, imitating Olivia’s recent gesture. “Though I’m very grateful to sail with one who has such a talent, sporting or not.”
    “Quite,” Mrs. Tisdale said. “Food is a necessity.”
    “I’ve heard your sister is quite mad,” Olivia blurted out.
    “Olivia!” Elizabeth nearly shouted.
    “In an endearing way, I’m certain,” Olivia said. “I would be rude to imply otherwise.”
    Samuel laughed.
    “I mean only that, according to reliable sources, she is umm … very lively! Yes, that’s it. Falling off stairs, swinging from curtains at parties, and such. That certainly suggests a degree of madness.”
    “Well, she does come from a country of cultureless heathens,” Samuel offered.
    “Oh stop. Only some are cultureless heathens,” she teased.
    “What kind of heathens are the rest of us?” Mr. Riedell asked.
    “There. You see? Even Mr. Riedell is droll about the heathens.” Olivia continued with her observations. “I was merely trying to get to the truth, so next time there is gossip I might correct people with some authority. However, since you don’t deny any of it, I find myself in a shocking position.”
    “Not a first, I’m sure,” he shot back.
    Olivia pretended not hear. “She married well, so all is forgiven.”
    “I don’t recall her requesting forgiveness.”
    Olivia ignored him again. “The ton is fickle that way. Money and title. It’s a perfect match.” Olivia sipped her wine. “I’m fortunate to have both. At least enough money to get along without having to marry.”
    “That
is indeed fortunate,” Samuel quipped.
    She was getting to him. It was interesting. And he was clever. That made it all the more amusing.
    Mr. Riedell reached for Olivia’s wineglass and moved it away, “There now, enough for you, my lady.”
    “I won’t take offense at your tone, Mr. Stafford,” Olivia forgave.
    “You should,” he retorted.
    She laughed. There was so rarely anyone to spar with in town. “You must understand that, as a lady, I cannot take your measure through cards, or boxing, or swords. I am left only with words.”
    He looked at her over the rim of his wineglass, inspecting. Olivia felt a blush heat up over her chest. Not inspecting—giving her the benefit of unabashed male regard. The heat continued up to her cheeks. He smiled, knowingly.
    “I think you have a couple other options for taking the measure of a man, Lady Olivia.”
    Riedell cleared his throat, and Andersen chuckled. Even Mrs. Tisdale turned a