Read The Songbird's Seduction for Free Online Page B

cheeks.
    “Here you go, Lucy.” Margery reappeared, holding out a new and expensive-looking silver Conklin fountain pen. Probably a gift from one of his admirers. “And mind you don’t misplace that because—”
    “Yes, yes. I promise.”
    “Good, because it’s—”
    “Is that
the
Margery? But I simply
adore
you!” Whatever Margery had been about to say was forgotten as an ardent female fan seized his arm and pulled him around to face her.
    Lucy, well used to the demonstrativeness of Margery’s admirers, particularly the female ones, turned back to Charlie Cheddar, the fountain pen at ready. “Now then, where shall I sign?”
    The question proved a poser. “I . . . I don’t know. Gosh.”
    “Have her sign your cuff,” someone suggested.
    “The menu.”
    “Napkin.”
    “Will you sign
my
menu, Miss Eastlake?” another young man asked.
    “Hey. Miss Eastlake is signing
my
menu,” Charlie said with some asperity. “You can wait your turn.”
    “After you’re done with theirs, can you sign my menu, too?” a new voice asked. “I saw you perform the part of Honoria in
The Catch of the Season
last November. You smoked a cigarette on stage! It was . . . swell!”
    “I nearly choked every time I set the vile thing to my lips,” she confided with a grin.
    She’d been warned beforehand that playing the part of a young girl who had yet to make her bow but smoked behind her parents’ backs might shock the older audience members. Apparently it had not shocked everyone. And even though she knew that male competitiveness had more to do with her current popularity than an appreciation of her voice—or whatever it was they appreciated—it felt good. No, it felt
grand
.
    “Let me get you another glass of champagne, Miss Eastlake,” Charlie said and, before she could refuse, hurried off.
    Margery leaned close, whispering in her ear. “Go on, ducks. Enjoy yourself!”
    So she did. She scribbled her name on the menu a young man handed her and presented it with a flourish. No sooner had she finished with that one than another took its place and then another. She flushed, smiled, and flirted, alternately taking sips of a champagne glass that miraculously never went dry. She traded quips with the various young men handing her items to be signed, her signature becoming bolder with each autograph. It was ridiculous. It was nonsensical.
It was wonderful!
    “Miss? Excuse me, miss.”
    She turned, her hand already stretched out to accept whatever this new petitioner might want autographed, and froze.
    Her pirate stood before her.
    He looked horribly self-conscious. “You . . .” Their gazescaught. Held. He frowned again. He frowned an awful lot, her pirate.
    Her pirate
. She smiled, floating on the euphoria of public adulation and more alcohol than she’d ever consumed at one time. He looked so nonplussed. Rather sweet, really . . . Why was he standing there?
    Oh, yes! She remembered. He was waiting for her autograph. And now that he was here, he was clearly too embarrassed to ask her for it. It was adorable.
    She smiled graciously. “No need to be bashful, my good man. I’ll be happy to sign your. . . .” She looked around for his menu or card or napkin and didn’t see anything she could write on. “What is it you wish me to sign?”
    His scowl deepened. “What? I don’t want you to sign anything.”
    She blinked, feeling a little muddled. “You don’t?”
    Her heart began pattering pleasantly in her chest. He couldn’t be . . . Why, he wasn’t going to ask her to join him at his table? Well, of course he was! How forward! How naughty! But how
deliciously
tempting! She forced herself to remember her great-aunts.
    “Oh, I couldn’t possibly!” she fluttered as she wondered if perhaps she could.
    “Couldn’t what?”
    “Accept an invitation to dine from a complete stranger. I mean, I am sure you’re a very nice man and all but—”
    “
What?
” Deep color swept up her pirate’s neck,