Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast) (20 page)

He almost pointed out that it was his waltz, but in the interest of keeping his head on his shoulders, Trevor acquiesced as the elder Randolph, with a sheepish backward glance, led her to the dance floor.

Blake rolled his eyes.  Dalton, having recently returned from Jamaica, chuckled and rocked on his heels.  Damian pretended not to notice his mistake.  Lance leaned close and whispered something in Cara’s ear, and her countenance bespoke dreadful ire.  Alex, Elaine, and Sabrina adopted identical stances, with arms folded and scowls that would make the saltiest sailor quiver in his breeches.

“You seem to have an affinity for digging your own grave, my friend.”

“Everett, I am not in the mood for your quips.”  Trevor craned his neck to keep his lady in view.  “I have upset Caroline.”

“Of course you have, you addled ass.”  Markham clucked his tongue.  “You never tell a woman her hair is
démodé
.  Have I taught you nothing?”

“Bloody hell.”  The fog lifted.  “I was only trying to pay her a compliment.  I preferred her hair as it was, is that so bad?”

“When it comes to women, indubitably.”  Everett winked.  “They are a mystery and a challenge.  And that is what keeps us interested.”

“But I have never had trouble with doxies.”

“You would call your lady a doxy?”

Had they not been in the middle of a crowded ballroom, Trevor would have taken Everett’s head off.  “I get your point.  But surely courtship is not supposed to be so difficult?  Give me a ship, and I would much prefer to sail the Horn than navigate this sphere, for it is truly a shallow pass with hidden shoals.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”  Everett smacked him on the shoulder.  “I suspect you have been too long at sea.  This is not a sailor’s life.”

The waltz ended, and Trevor was not surprised when his future wife took refuge amid her friends, who favored him with icy glares.  “The air has turned cold, has it not?”

“Indeed.”  His only friend nodded once.  “What say we adjourn to the card room and a bottle of brandy?”

Trevor had hoped to strengthen the tenuous bonds with his future extended family, as they were an odd assortment of characters that he still did not understand.  In their circles, he was an outsider and remained consciously aware of the fact.  At first, he could not see how he would ever find his place in their clique, yet of late he had gained some small measure of ground.  But it was evident that whatever inroads he had made were now blocked by his unintended insult.

“Perhaps you are right.  Tonight is a loss.”

“And speaking of losses, I promise to keep yours to a few thousand pounds.”  Everett grinned.

“How generous of you.”

#

The Elliott town coach bobbled through the streets of London bound for Chatham House the next night.  The fête was one of the premiere events of the Season, and everyone who was anyone would be in attendance.  Judging from the queue of carriages waiting to deposit their consignment at the entrance to the columned, Palladian style mansion, the
ton
was putting in a good show.

Twiddling her gloved thumbs, Caroline sat across from her mother and mulled her day.  Blake had sent word that he would be spending the night at his bachelor lodgings and would meet them at the ball.  She knew what that meant, and when he arrived that afternoon for an unscheduled fencing session, she had taunted and teased her brother until she yielded her foil to a vicious riposte.

Of course, she was grateful for Blake’s company.  He served as primary distraction from the other man in her life who had neglected to pay call.  In anticipation of Trevor’s visit, she had composed a conciliatory speech that was to be given prior to accepting whatever gift he had chosen to convey his regrets concerning his thoughtless comment at the Trantham’s ball.  To her dismay, her fiancé had not shown his face during the prescribed hours, and Caroline would have gone in search of another ship on which to stow away had it not been for Blake.

After fencing for an hour, he admitted he had seen Trevor at his boxing gym and ascertained that no such visit was forthcoming.  It seemed Lord Lockwood was unsure of his welcome and thought better of making an appearance.  Blake had suggested she give Trevor a break and display ample gratitude for any apology he might make.  He also implied that Trevor was every bit as frightened by the prospect of their impending marriage as was she.  Strange, she could not recall ever discussing her fears with her elder sibling.  Brothers could be so bothersome and, sometimes, annoyingly intuitive.

Dressed in a gold embroidered gown of burgundy tulle, Caroline stood with her mother as they were announced.  With head held high, she scanned the ballroom in hopes of catching a glimpse of her brother or Trevor.  As if from nowhere, Blake appeared and extended his arm to their mother.  She waited for him to turn and offer his escort.  Instead, Blake walked away.

And then she saw Trevor.

Bedecked in black formalwear and a boyish grin, he was devastatingly handsome.  Her heart skipped a beat, and a fluttery sensation tickled her belly.  In an instant, the transgressions of the past were forgotten.  Why could she not stay angry with the infernal man?  Casting a sidelong glance at her brother, she caught his wink.  There were times when Caroline could just kiss Blake.

“My lady, may I say you look quite lovely this evening.”

Oh, dear.  Were they going down that road again?  “You may, my lord.  And I daresay you are rather dashing yourself.”

Raising her gloved hand to his lips, Trevor flipped her wrist and placed a kiss on her bare flesh, then settled her palm in the crook of his arm.  “Allow me the honor of escorting you this night.”

As the strings of the orchestra sounded the first waltz of the evening, Caroline whirled dramatically around the dance floor in Trevor’s vise-like embrace.  He held her close, too close, and something else whirled inside her.

When supper was announced, he led her into the dining hall and to a small table for two, which allowed them a bit of privacy.  Later, her attentive captain excused himself, only to return with a strawberry tart.

Her shameless fiancé leaned near and whispered in her ear.  “I would give my ship to have you naked in my bed as I fed you strawberries, sweet.”

Good heavens, her green-eyed dragon was as dangerous as ever.  “Would you indeed?”

Smiling seductively, he reached for her hand, slipped his thumb inside her glove, and caressed the center of her palm in maddening circles.  “I must confess, as of this moment, it is my fondest wish.”

“My lord, were it in my power to grant such a request, rest assured I would do so without delay.”  Oh how nice it was to see him blush for a change.

For the first time since their courtship commenced, Caroline was truly enjoying herself.  She almost forgot the circumstances necessitating their engagement.  As Trevor broke small bites of the tart and fed them into her mouth, checking to make sure there were none the wiser, he serenaded her with ribald suggestions involving her body and his tongue.  His demeanor was reminiscent of fonder days aboard the
Hera
, and she decided she enjoyed being verbally ravished.

It seemed too soon when the pleasant meal ended, and she was reluctant to rejoin the revelers inching toward the ballroom.  Trevor and Caroline, with Brie and Everett in tow, were caught in a crush of bodies.  In the crowd ahead, a familiar voice rose above the chatter.

“Oh, no, my dears.  I assure you he could not be serious about her.  Lord Lockwood told me he was not interested in any of our young debutantes,” crowed Lady Darwith, Caroline’s archenemy.  “A man like that needs a real woman to satisfy him.”

Several giggles rent the air.

The earth seemed to tremble beneath her feet, and Caroline swayed.

“Are you all right?” Trevor asked.

“Does she speak the truth?”  Humiliation gripped her throat, and unshed tears stung her eyes.

He blinked.  “I beg your pardon?”

“Lady Darwith.”  She swallowed hard.  “Did you tell her you were not interested in a debutante?”

#

Hell and be damned, there was no way out.

Trevor needed no explanation to discern the motives behind Caroline’s query.  He knew the history and the devastation caused by one barracuda known as Lady Darwith.  “Aye, I said it.  But--”

In a split second, his fiancée tore from his side and plunged into the sea of partygoers.

“--You are not like any debutante I have ever known.”  Stunned, Trevor glanced at Everett and Sabrina, who eyed him with unveiled sympathy.

“No offense, old chap, but your wooing is becoming too painful to watch.”  Everett arched a brow.  “Too bad I am not in need of a wife, else I would be happy to show you how it is done.”

“Take my advice, do not try it.  Courtship is a race you cannot win.”  Trevor scratched his temple.  “Well then, would someone like to tell me whether or not I should go after her?”

“Pray, a moment.”  Elbowing Sabrina, Everett said, “Perhaps all our lovebirds need is a little friendly interference from a master and his protégé.  What say you, my dear Miss Douglas?”

Sabrina favored him with a conspiratorial grin that gave Trevor gooseflesh from head to foot.  “My lord, I do love a good intrigue.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Miss Douglas, I do not presume to understand whatever nonsense you and Everett are about.  Really, I must find Caroline.”  Trevor dug his heels into the graveled path in the rose garden.  “I insist you tell me where we are going.”

Sabrina peered over her shoulder and pressed a finger to her lips.  “Shh, damn fool man, do you want to announce to the whole world we are here?”  She faced forward and tugged hard on his wrist.  “If you wish to see Caroline, then come with me.  And, blast it all, keep your voice down.”

Despite inclinations to the contrary, he followed his less-than-graceful guide around a tall hedge.  In the clearing, secluded and well hidden from the main house, sat a petite orangery.  As they neared the door, Trevor heard voices inside and paused.

With a haughty air of determination, Sabrina let go his arm, marched to the entrance, and turned the knob.  On a backward glance, she inclined her head.  “Well, are you coming?”

“I suppose I have nothing to lose.”  Trevor uttered a prayer in silence and stepped inside.

Pale blue light from the moon streamed through the glass panels overhead, illuminating the diminutive hothouse.  Tucked among the plants of various tropical varieties were a
chaise
and a tapestry frame.  And making a thorough examination of an exotic orchid, while engaging in polite conversation with Everett, was Caroline.

When Everett spied him, he stood upright.  “Right.  Well, I believe my work here is finished.”  He strolled toward the entrance and offered Sabrina his escort.  “Come along, Miss Douglas.”

To wit the younger Douglas blinked.  “I beg your pardon?  Where do you think we are going?”

“Allay your fears, my dear.”  His friend chuckled.  “My thoughts were of a decidedly noble endeavor.”

“Indeed?”  Sabrina appeared skeptical.

“Indubitably.”  Everett grinned.  “Do you dance, Miss Douglas?”

Her eyes flared.  “Of course I do, you ass.”

Markham pressed her hand into the crook of his elbow.  “Tell me, my dear Miss Douglas, has anyone ever mistaken you for a lady?”

She humphed.  “I am sure no more than have mistaken you for a gentleman.”

As the two continued their playful banter, Trevor stared surreptitiously at Caroline.  She seemed determined to focus on anything but him, and he did not know what to make of her indifference.  A palm settled on the small of his back.

“Get in there, old boy.”  Everett gave him a gentle nudge.

With a tentative step forward, he slipped a finger in his coat pocket and toyed with the bauble he intended to give his fiancée.  Once the voices of his bickering accomplices faded, he made his move.

“That is a lovely bloom you have there.”  God help him, he was discussing flowers.  Could anything be more humiliating for a man of the sea?  “Is it your favorite variety?”

“No.”  She did not face him.  “I prefer roses.”

“Well, roses are nice, I suppose.”  Trevor shuffled his feet and inched closer.  How he wished she would turn around.  “I shall have to remember that and gift you a bouquet on special occasions.”

“Please, do not trouble yourself.”

Her response was puzzling.  Did not all wives expect copious amounts of gifts, especially roses?  “I assure you, my dear, it will be no trouble to shower you with trinkets and the like.”  Trevor forced a chuckle.  “Else I may not survive our courtship.”

“My lord, you have just touched on the topic uppermost in my mind.”  Caroline rotated a half-turn, providing him a glimpse of her profile.  “I believe it is time for us to end our charade.”

Somewhere, fate must be smiling.  Trevor rolled his shoulders and sighed his relief.  He did not want to delay their nuptials any longer than necessary.  “My dear, I could not agree more.”

“I hereby release you from any and all obligation with respect to our betrothal.  You are free to pursue other viable candidates for a wife.”

It was as though the world beneath him had opened up and swallowed him whole.  The warm and inviting walls of the orangery gave way to a bottomless chasm, dark and dreary.  His ears rang, his gut clenched.  Held in suspense somewhere between heaven and hell, an echo from the past played a mocking tune, haunting and taunting.  A memory that still cut sharp as a razor sliced through him.

In a flash, he was standing in a luxuriously appointed drawing room.  The site was his ancestral pile, a place he had not visited in years but had not forgotten.  A little boy stood before his father, begging to be allowed to remain at home, rather than be sent to school.  He had sought acceptance.  Validation.  His pleas were ignored, and he was rejected.

As he teetered, Trevor realized he had forgotten to breathe.  The shock of her declaration shivered over his flesh, and he revisited her words in his head.

“Pray forgive me, but did I hear correctly?”  Despite his efforts, his voice held a wealth of surprise.  “You no longer wish to wed me?”