Brethren of the Coast Box Set 2

by Barbara Devlin

  “What?” Jason tugged on Lance’s arm. “You must be joking.”

  “Would that I were,” he replied with calm solemnity. “Let me assure you, I am serious.”

  “But—you?” With an owlish expression, Collingwood blinked and sputtered. “This makes no sense.”

  “Indeed, I concur.” Were he a child, Lance would surrender to a violent spate of tears, as despair was a bitter pill, and Cara had grievously wounded him. “And it may interest you to know that I have proposed to Cara on a number of occasions, all of which she has refused.”

  “Then why would they tell me otherwise?” Jason asked.

  “Now that is the question for which I have no answer, brother.” Lance mulled the situation, and his mind raced in various directions, none of which seemed plausible excuses. “I do not pretend to comprehend Cara’s actions, but I do require privacy to further explore our predicament. And there is one aspect in which my certainty is absolute.”

  “And that would be—what?” the blameless pawn queried.

  “I need an ally.” Lance lowered his chin. “And you and I need to strategize.”

  ONE-KNIGHT STAND

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “I do not believe it, Alex lied to me. Women.” Jason pounded a fist on the armrest of an overstuffed chair, snatched the glass of brandy Lance offered him, downed the contents in a single gulp, and scowled. “Never should I have trusted one.”

  “Do not be too hard on Lady Seymour.” Lance settled behind his desk and reclined. “As I do not believe deception is the solitary objective, where you are concerned.”

  The carriage ride from the Hayward Ball had given him ample opportunity to reflect and retrench—and tamp the anger surging within him. Tugging at the precise folds of linen at his neck, he loosened his cravat, drew it free from his collar, and tossed the yard-length swath atop the leather blotter.

  “And that matters?” Jason fetched the crystal decanter and refilled his brandy balloon.

  “It does to me.” For Lance, of utmost importance were Cara’s underlying reasons for enacting such daring fraud.

  Why had she allowed him to compromise her—on more than one occasion, and yet she rebuffed his offers of marriage? And why, at the very same moment she rejected his proposals, had she deliberately set out to draw his attention? Given that the primary aim of such schemes typically centered on securing a betrothal, nothing about her actions made sense.

  “Shall I confess how they bamboozled me?” Jason stretched his legs, batted his lashes, and in a high-pitched voice said, “Our poor Miss Douglas was ill-treated by a fickle suitor who availed himself of her affections and then refused to marry her.”

  “And the chivalrous Captain Collingwood came to their aid.” In the face of such absurdity, Lance could not help but chuckle. “There is no shame in that, brother.”

  “Yes, if Miss Douglas had been slighted, in truth, I would have no cause.” Collingwood speared his fingers through his hair. “But Alex and Cara played me false, and I should very much like to know why.”

  “As to their ultimate goal, I can only speculate.” Lance stared into the hearth and studied the flames. “The fact that they enlisted your support suggests Cara intended to make me jealous, and however much I regret admitting it, she succeeded.”

  But she could not have anticipated inciting his temper, which she had done in epic proportions. Still, what had she hoped to achieve, despite his multiple proposals? What remained that he had not addressed to her satisfaction?

  “I care not about Alex’s reasons for deceiving me.” Jason leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees, and rested his chin in his hands. “There is no justification for double-dealing. I ought to heat her posterior.”

  “Well, it may not be a bad idea, but her brother might protest.” Lance searched his memory for some sensible clarification to decipher Cara’s plot. “I am sure Alex was motivated by a genuine desire, however misplaced, to help Miss Douglas.”

  “It does not signify.” Jason scratched his temple and frowned. “I thought Alex unique, so different from society’s witless chits. Now I see she is the same as all the other faithless jades parading through the ton’s ballrooms.”

  “Easy, friend.” Lance pointed in emphasis. “Regardless of her infractions, you cannot disparage the reputation of one of my dearest childhood companions. To me, Alex is my sister and I her brother. One mistake will not sever a lifelong alliance.”

  “How can you be so obtuse?” Jason leapt from his chair and paced before the desk. “They lied to us.”

  “Yes, and I should like to know why, as much as you.” Lance swirled the amber liquor in his glass. “But first I must identify the incentive for the ill-conceived charade.”

  “Is that really of consequence?” Jason arched a brow. “Or are you just an easy mark?”

  “I am no one’s pawn, but as the target of this plot, their grounds are of vital importance to me.” Lance doffed his coat and unhooked the collar of his shirt, as he sought a balm to soothe his injured pride. And then a brilliant flanking maneuver formed in his brain. “However, I am not opposed to a little retribution, if you are so inclined.”

  “Count me in for revenge.” Jason came to an abrupt halt. “How shall we punish our errant ladies?”

  “Well therein lies the rub.” Lance considered the logistics of his scheme and grimaced. “After all is said and done, Alex is a cherished friend. And regardless of her denials, Cara will be my wife.”

  “You still mean to marry her?” The blonde knight opened and then closed his mouth. “Even after her deception?”

  “I do—no pun intended”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Perhaps.” Fortified with his best liquid courage, Lance was more intrigued than irate. “Right now I am at sea. But, as I said, let us not rush to judgment.”

  There would be time enough for that in the privacy of his bedchamber, wherein he planned to dissect every bit of communication, examine each encounter, and form a suitable counterattack. So he maintained his calm façade, because no one riled Lance Prescott unless he chose to allow it.

  “Blister it, Raynesford, you are a better man than I, because you are being a hell of a sport. As God is my witness, were they men, I would want blood in recompense for their folly.” Jason planted his feet wide and bared his teeth. “I did Alex a personal favor, and she made an arse of me.”

  “You overreact, as Alex did no such thing. Given we have yet to determine their prize, had their venture succeeded, with none the wiser, you would have lost nothing. It is only because we inadvertently discovered their game that you seek vengeance, but you remain unharmed and your honor intact.”

  “Oh, really?” Jason shot him a glance of pure skepticism and snorted. “You were ready to call me out.”

  “There you have me.” Lance nodded once. “When I thought you had abused Miss Douglas, I could have ripped your throat out with my teeth.”

  “If you are attempting to inspire confidence, you failed miserably,” Collingwood replied, as he yanked on his collar. “Why not confront her?”

  “I thought of that, but if this conundrum could have been resolved with a candid conversation, Cara would have told me, as she has had ample opportunity.” Somewhere, Lance had missed something, and never had he felt more conflicted in his life. His original plan required extensive revisions, because his was no longer a simple matter of seduction. “That she has not done so speaks volumes, only I know not how to interpret her perplexing conduct.”

  “Well whatever we do, we cannot let their grievous infraction go unpunished.” Jason narrowed his stare. “And I do not want you going soft on me.”

  “After tonight, not a chance, brother.” Lance seethed in silence. “And I have an idea, but I am not sure of its virtue.”

  “What care I for virtue? It must possess a certain flair and be dramatic.” Furrowing his brow, Jason untied his cravat. “As women know no other condition.”

  “W
e must be careful not to alienate them.” Lance rubbed his chin. “However, if you no longer have a personal interest in Lady Seymour, I suppose you need not concern yourself with that minor complication.”

  “What?” Jason snapped to attention. “Who said I am not interested in Alex?”

  “Well you seem awfully put out, Collingwood.” Lance had deliberately baited his fellow knight, because he needed to gauge the depth of his regard for Alex. “And I cannot deliver my friend into the clutches of a disgruntled suitor intent on hurting her.”

  “I would never harm Alex.” Jason’s eyes flared. “She needs a firm hand to manage her, because Damian coddles her to excess.”

  “And you presume to be the man for the task?”

  Jason lowered his chin. “Believe it.”

  “All right.” Lance chuckled. “Then how do we go about teaching our women a much-needed lesson?”

  “I vote for confrontation.” Jason slammed a fist to his palm. “Get it all in the open.”

  “And have Alex reduce you to plum pudding with her tears?” He snickered.

  “I resent that, Raynesford, really I do.” Jason glanced left and then right, located his brandy balloon, and again downed the contents. “Besides, I have seen Cara play you like a violin. She knows how to pluck your strings, and I am almost embarrassed for you.”

  “Go to the devil,” Lance responded. “In this house I am lord and master.”

  “At least you will be whenever Cara allows it,” Jason added with an air of insult.

  “I ought to smite your costard.” Lance flew from his chair and rounded the desk. “And I may call you out, yet.”

  “I shall see you at dawn, Raynesford.” Jason lunged and stood toe-to-toe with Lance. “As I demand satisfaction.”

  “Paddington Green!” Lance shouted, at last succumbing to his simmering anger. “Be there, or I will hunt you down.”

  Without a word, Jason turned on a heel and stomped the door.

  “Collingwood—”

  “Raynesford—”

  Jason grinned.

  Lance smiled and shook his head. “You first.”

  “After you.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “As you have rank.”

  “That was too close for comfort.” Lance whistled in monotone. “We are fighting each other, and we are not the enemy.”

  “You know, this is what happens when women take the helm.” Jason shifted his weight and sighed. “We drown in a lethal mix of perfume and petticoats.”

  “May I suggest we return our attention to the business at hand?” Once again, Lance settled in the high back chair behind his desk.

  “Aye.” Jason reclaimed his seat. “Have you any ideas?”

  “Indeed, I do, brother.” Lance compressed his lips. “What is the one thing guaranteed to bring out the green-eyed monster in a woman?”

  “Competition.” And then Jason’s jaw dropped. “Lance, you are a bloody genius. But who will help us? I suppose we could ask the widow Moreton.”

  “Do you want to get us killed?” Lance recalled Cara’s reaction when she discovered the sultry Ace of Spades in his bedchamber. “The mere suggestion gives me collywobbles.”

  “Sorry.” Jason swallowed hard.

  For a few minutes the study grew silent. The long case clock in the hall sounded the hour, as Lance assessed various options at his disposal. The solution, when it came to him, seemed elementary. “You know, we need not involve other ladies in our scheme. We need only switch positions to give our prey a dose of their own medicine.”

  #

  “May I have the pleasure of your company?”

  “Why, of course, Captain Collingwood.” Alex smiled, extended an arm, and stepped forward. “I should be too happy to partner you.”

  “I apologize, Lady Seymour, for the confusion.” Jason hesitated, inclined his head, and, to Cara’s surprise, gazed at her. “But I was asking our lovely Miss Douglas for the honor of a waltz.”

  Alex peered at Cara, and in unison their jaws dropped.

  “But we have already shared the country-dance, Captain.” Cara gulped, because everything about her mock-suitor’s demeanor bespoke the unmistakable heat of passion. And then she recalled their charade, and the fact that she had yet to end it, so she gathered her wits and mentally replayed her composed speech. “I should be delighted.”

  “But—what about me?” Alex pouted. “Am I to be neglected?”

  “Allow me to act in the estimable captain’s stead, Lady Seymour.” Lance sketched an impressive bow. “If you are so inclined.”

  For a scarce second, Cara had expected her hero to protest Jason’s invitation, and she swallowed the bitter pill of disappointment as Collingwood, with nary a challenge from Lance, led her into a sea of elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen. As soon as Jason took her in his arms, Cara knew something was amiss. “Um, Captain?”

  “Yes, my dear Cara?” he whispered in her ear, and she shuddered with alarm. “You look positively stunning, tonight.”

  “Thank you, Captain. But do you not think you are holding me a bit too close?” In an instant, she chided herself, as he no doubt continued to play the part of love-struck suitor at her request. She smiled, rolled her shoulders, and joined the masquerade. “You are liable to set the gossipmongers afire with this waltz.”

  “Excellent, as that is our aim, is it not?” He leaned close. “Have I ever told you how enchanting I find your eyes, Miss Douglas?”

  “I beg your pardon?” She blinked.

  “Oh, indeed. They are as blue as the crystal waters of the Mediterranean.” Jason bent his head, and their noses were mere inches apart. “Daresay I could lose myself in your shimmering depths.”

  “Captain—”

  “How come you never call me Jason?” he asked in a husky baritone. “I should think our understanding would leave us on more informal terms. Do you not like me, Cara?”

  Warning bells pealed a distress signal in her brain. Given Collingwood’s swoon-worthy looks and lethal charm, she now understood how Alex had fallen so deeply beneath his spell. Yet in Cara he stirred nothing more than trepidation and, dare she admit it, nausea.

  “Of course, I do,” she blurted. “But polite decorum requires I show proper respect for your station, Captain.”

  “Need I point out I was not to the manor born, so I have no use for polite decorum?” With a rakish gaze Jason surveyed her, leaving her in little doubt of his regard. “And I am not interested in your respect, Miss Douglas.”

  With a call for retreat echoing in her ears, Cara fought the desire to flee, because she had to terminate their scheme.

  “Captain—”

  “Jason.”

  Cara gritted her teeth, biting back frustration and, though it annoyed her to concede it, abiding fear. “Jason—”

  “Now, was that not easy?” he queried in a tone as smooth as well-churned butter.

  “You quite take my breath away, Sir.” A foreboding sense of gloom shrouded her in imaginary darkness, and a chill of unease traipsed her spine. “Pray, indulge me, as I must speak with absolute candor about our arrangement.”

  “You refer, of course, to our scheme to bring your potential bridegroom to the altar?” he declared with a sly smile, which gave her goose flesh.

  “Yes.”

  “What of it?”

  “I wish to end the matter, posthaste.”

  “Why?”

  Did he have to ask the lone question guaranteed to prick her nerves? Could he not just accept she had changed her mind and wanted nothing more than to wash her hands of the whole miserable affair? And how could she answer him?

  Should she opt for the truth and explain, however late, that though her goal remained the same, she regretted to inform him that she enlisted his services based on prevarication? Then again, such frankness could land Alex in hot water, which further complicated the situation.

  Cara sighed. “Because it was a foolish endeavor, from the first.”

  Jason na
rrowed his stare. “I disagree.”

  “You do?” The man could have knocked her over with a feather. “I did not realize you had formed an opinion on the topic.”

  “But I have, my charming Miss Douglas.” He twirled her with dramatic flair, before tightening his arm at her waist. “And you should not surrender the field before the day is won.”

  “But, I must protest.” Panic settled as chief resident in her belly. “What have I to gain?”

  “Am I to understand you have secured your proposal and are now betrothed?” Alex’s beau arched a brow. “Why have you not made your happy announcement?”

  “You mistake my meaning, Captain.” Stumped, Cara bit her lip. At that point, she could not bring herself to dissemble and intensify her shame. “Whether or not I achieve my goal, I simply cannot build my future on a foundation of deceit, however well intended. And I fear your assistance has been ill-used. I do apologize if I have caused offense.”

  “Miss Douglas, you are everything gentle and good.” Right there on the dance floor, in full view of society, Captain Collingwood pressed on her gloved knuckles a chaste kiss. “And I believe your heart is in the right place, so I encourage you to persevere a tad longer, as you shall receive your just reward.”

  “But—why?” It was her luck that her attempt to end their arrangement met impenetrable resistance.

  “Rules of attraction, my dear.” In that instant, he reversed course, and in an uncharacteristic move she tripped. “Are you all right, Miss Douglas?”

  “Yes.” She cursed her clumsy behavior, as it belied heretofore-unshakeable deportment.

  “And, as I was saying, the one thing guaranteed to make a man take notice is another man.”

  “That is just what Sabrina said.” The words were uttered before she realized she had spoken.

  “Really?” Beneath her palms, the captain tensed his muscles. “The Countess of Woverton is aware of our scheme of hearts?”

  “Well, I might have discussed it with her.” Cara bemoaned her loose lips. “She is, after all, my sister, and we have always been close.”

  “But, of course.” He steered her left, then right, and then left again, without missing a beat. “And her reasoning is remarkably sound, so I cannot argue with her counsel.”