He cleared his throat. What had she said? There’d been something strange about that, too. “The pirate hunter?”

“Oh!” She stiffened, mouth open for a second as if he’d forced her on the back foot. “I—I’d heard that a dashing young man was going to save us all from the clutches of that wicked Lady Vice.” Again, with that effortless smile—how could someone be so easy with their expressions? “I’d just assumed the dashing part was an exaggeration.”

Definitely flirting with him. Even he wasn’t fool enough to miss that. Well, she’d have better luck with his colleagues.

And yet he didn’t want to send her in their direction. They could relax and frequently did so in the arms of women in this port or that. But that was for men who could afford to give in to the whims of a moment.

Ah, that was what her smile was. Her whole manner, in fact. She was relaxed. Despite what she said about the stillness of ballrooms, she had this uninhibited air, as if she were utterly at ease with herself. Even her flirtation had no self-consciousness to it.

His heart ached with envy.

Her gaze had grown distant, and now her head cocked as a slow grin spread over her full lips. She chuckled and beckoned him closer. “Listen,” she murmured, jerking her head over her shoulder, towards the table of canapés and punch bowls.

“… poor tablecloth! More spills,” a short, grey-haired lady said to a younger woman beside her. “What are they teaching girls these days?”

Lady Lyons laughed. Not a giggle behind her hand but a full-on laugh. “She said exactly the same thing not ten minutes ago.” Sticking her nose in the air, she went on, “What are they teaching girls these days?”

Despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitched.

She shook her head. “I think she’s waiting there to say it to everyone who comes close.”

“Well, at least we’re a safe distance from her trap.”

A footman closed in on the punch-pouring-obsessed lady and murmured in her ear. Behind him, a lieutenant Knigh didn’t recognise sidled closer—perhaps a potential suitor for the younger woman. The punch-lady’s eyes widened, and she herded her companion away.

“You know,” Lady Lyons said, fanning herself with her hand, gaze flicking back to Knigh from somewhere over his shoulder, “it’s rather stuffy in here and I appear to have forgotten my fan. How silly of me.”

One-handed, she tugged on the window, but it didn’t budge. Another pull, her neck and shoulder cording, but still nothing. “I’m feeling quite faint.” Her chest heaved against her stays, the swell of her bust inviting above her neckline. “Would you perhaps oblige me, Captain?” The easy smile was gone now, leaving her expression as strained as the seams of her gown when she’d yanked at the window.