“You catch more flies with honey, dear brother.” Rebecca tittered, as she twirled and then leaned into Dirk. “Do you like my new dress, as it is your favorite color?”
“You know, very well, I do.” Dirk kissed her forehead. “And I shall enjoy it, even more, tonight, when I take it off you.”
Confused, because the singular shade was their sire’s preference, Dalton scratched his temple. “But burgundy was—”
“—My choice, from birth.” Dirk shot Dalton a warning glance. “And is that Lucien, in the hall?”
“Oh, he is here.” Becca inclined her head and gazed a Dalton, and for some odd reason he could not decipher, he shuddered. “Do you believe Miss Daphne would prefer a titled groom, as Lucien must marry, and I think her an ideal candidate?”
“No, I do not agree.” The mere image of Daphne wedded to the randy Wentworth was enough to give Dalton collywobbles. “They do not suit.”
“And what, pray tell, is your objection to my sibling?” Becca thrust her chin, and Dalton knew he was in trouble. “He just made post.”
“Daphne would have to move to the Peak District,” he replied, with conviction.
“And what is wrong with Derbyshire?” Rebecca rested hands on hips. “As it is the place of my birth.”
“Miss Harcourt prefers Portsea Island.” Tugging on his cravat, Dalton shifted his weight. “And I meant no offense.”
“Darling, go welcome your brother.” Dirk trailed a finger along her jawline and then pressed his lips to hers. “And I shall endeavor to express my appreciation of your stunning attire, in our private apartment, after our guests depart.”
“Oh, I do so look forward to it, my lusty lord.” With one last scowl at Dalton, Rebecca turned and waved at Lucien.
“Why have you not told her the truth, that burgundy was father’s signature hue?” he inquired, after Becca had moved beyond earshot. “And you have never developed such partiality.”
“Dalton, you know that, and I know that, but my bride remains blissfully ignorant, even after almost three years of marriage, and I would not disabuse her of the notion for anything in the world.” Dirk arched a brow and snickered. “You see she came home from her shopping trip, with a sheer confection that left nothing to the imagination, which she bought because it was done in what she believes is my preferred shade, and proceeded to enact an erotic dance, among other things, wearing naught but said garment, for my benefit. And, oh, did I benefit. Now, do you honestly think I give a damn about the color?”
“I see your point.” In an instant, Dalton conjured visions of Daphne, in similar circumstances. “But you cannot allow Becca to betroth poor Daphne to Lord Calvert, as he is a notorious rake.”
“Then you should offer for her,” Dirk stated, as if imparting news of the weather.
“What?” Dalton snapped to attention. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you care for her.” Dirk folded his arms, in the annoying manner Dalton knew too well. “Don’t even attempt to deny it.”
“I admit I hold her in high esteem.” In truth, she was glorious, and he was an unworthy reprobate of the worst sort. “Plus her carriage is first rate.”
“And I said the same thing about my Becca.” Dirk chuckled. “Yet it is no secret she claimed my heart the second she set foot aboard the Gawain. So I would give you a bit of unsolicited advice intended to spare you the extended suffering I inflicted upon myself.”
“Let me guess, you wish me to kneel before her and propose, this instant.” Not a bad idea, given Rebecca had just introduced Daphne to Lucien, and Dalton seethed in silence. “Let us say, for the sake of curiosity, I am amenable to your sage counsel—and do not dare ask why. But what if I imparted certain disreputable information, which revealed aspects of my character, or lack thereof, and rendered me unsuitable? And regardless how hard I labored for the remains of my days, I could never deserve Daphne.”
“In light of our connections and fortune, you deem yourself beneath the governor’s daughter?” With a countenance of astonishment, Dirk narrowed his stare. “What have you done?”
The world shifted in a blur, and Dalton transported to the past, to a different time and place. Bodies bumped and ground, mingling perspiration to a cacophony of grunts and groans, as a trio of lust-driven beings conceded to base instincts. Fueled by heady intoxicants and a desire to partake of unknown debauchery, the likes of which could have rivaled the licentious acts of the Marquis de Sade, Dalton had surrendered to a heretofore-foreign animalistic urge.
Disgust wrenched him to the present, and he studied the angelic ingénue. “If I relayed that information, you would never speak to me again.”
“Wait a minute, brother.” Glancing left and then right, Dirk checked his tone and stiffened his spine. “Are we talking about an adulterous tryst or something far more profligate?”
“The worst libertine conceivable.” How could he have surrendered control, to that extent? “And there is more than one witness.”
“What—who?” Dirk came alert, just as the butler announced dinner. “Belay my queries, as we will discuss the situation tomorrow evening, at White’s. Until then, say nothing.”
“Aye.” It had to be done. He had to confess his nefarious deeds and face the consequences, because his actions could embroil the family in scandal, and no one would escape the repercussions.
It was with that revelation swirling in his brain that Dalton entered the dining room and discovered his place beside Daphne, and he girded himself for the challenge, as he ached to kiss her. For the umpteenth time, he wondered whatever possessed him to bring her to London.
The epitome of innocence smiled. “How are you, Dalton?”
Condemned to hellfire and brimstone for the atrocity he had committed. “Fine, Daphne. And how are you? Are you enjoying your stay with my brother and sister-in-law?”
“Yes.” Gushing with enthusiasm, she glowed, as she all but bounced in her chair, and it touched him that he had brought such unabashed joy to her face. “I am afraid Becca took you at your word, when you generously offered to finance my new wardrobe, and I have a pair of slippers for each day of the week. But it is too much, and you must allow me to repay you, somehow, for all the beautiful clothes.”
“My dear Daphne, your captivating expression is sufficient repayment.” Without hesitation, he claimed her hand, brought it to his lips, and just suppressed a groan of delight when she shivered. “And that I count a priceless boon.”
“You are a bold one, Sir Dalton. But I like that about you.” She stuck her tongue in her cheek. “And I wonder if I might pose a personal question?”
“Of course.” Something inside him braced, as he revisited the salacious scene in the red room. Then it dawned on him that she could not possibly know of his shame. “Ask away.”
“Have you a favorite color?” she inquired, as she leaned forward, with unshakeable eagerness.
“I do, indeed.” He opened his mouth and then closed it, as he guessed at her motives. Given the conversation with Dirk, and Rebecca’s seduction-driven selections, a host of tempting scenarios featuring the sumptuous virgin composed an irresistible visual tapestry of desire. “But I would have thought it obvious.”
“I do not understand.” For a few seconds, she fumbled with her napkin. And then she flinched. “The sapphire gown you gave me in Portsea—that is your preference?”
“Correct.” He weaved his fingers through hers and squeezed. “So my gesture was quite selfish.”
“Nonsense.” She scoffed, as a servant filled Daphne’s glass with wine. “You are the most generous man of my acquaintance. So Thursday night, at the Richmond’s gala, I shall wear the dress just for you, my gallant knight. And I will save all my waltzes for you.”
“Then I shall endeavor to deserve the honor.” But he reminded himself they were no longer in Portsea. “However, I cannot, in good conscience, permit you to enact an egregious breach of decorum, should we indulge in anything beyond a single da
nce. To do so would make an unintended declaration that could harm your prospects with aspiring suitors.”
“Oh.” Crestfallen, she sighed. “And that would displease you?”
“Yes.” No, as he would sooner lock her away from potential beaus and keep her for himself, but he was unprepared for the commitment she required. “But I should content myself with whatever privilege you bestow upon me.”
When Dirk cleared his throat, Dalton glanced up and discovered his extended family focused on his exchange with Daphne. He shifted in his chair, just as Blake waggled his brows and Damian whispered something to his partner in nefarious enterprises.
“My apologies, if we have held up the meal.” Dalton could only pray for mercy. “And the roasted chicken looks delicious.”
“But it appears you prefer your poultry a little on the tender side.” Damian elbowed Blake in the ribs, and the two chuckled.
“Damian, behave yourself.” Alex wagged a finger. “Just wait until it is your turn.”
“His turn for what?” Daphne asked Dalton.
“Ignore them,” Caroline replied. “They will get theirs.”
“And why are you so quiet?” Blake queried Trevor. “Is this not your favorite sport? I believe you and Everett claim to be past masters in the sentimental realm.”
“Now how did I get in the middle of your affairs?” Everett passed the apple loaf to Sabrina. “Darling, you are my witness. I was just sitting here, minding my own business.”
“Poor bantling.” Sabrina favored Everett with an exaggerated pout. “Shall I soothe your ruffled feathers, when we get home?”
“Do not upset my wife, Blake.” Trevor leaned to the side and claimed a quick kiss from Caroline. “Else I will box your ears, and you are already a frightful sight.”
“The widow Grainer did not think so, last night.” Blake winked.
“I knew it.” Damian pounded a fist to the table. “Kleinfeld owes me, as I wagered ten pounds you would best Lord Sheldon.”
A collective of feminine gasps brought the puerile celebration to a halt.
“Blake, while this is an informal family gathering, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from discussing such intimate topics at the table.” Rebecca handed Daphne a bowl of potatoes. “Now, let us eat, as I spent hours composing the menu.”
“Are they always like this?” Daphne said in a hushed tone.
“Worse.” Dalton chanced a glimpse of the duly chastised rakes. Blake drew a finger across his throat, Damian smirked, and Dalton had never been more afraid in his life.
#
Gowned in pale green, Daphne stood tall and gazed at her reflection in the long mirror. With her hair swept in a cascade of curls, as arranged by Rebecca’s personal lady’s maid, Daphne cut the perfect picture of feminine deportment and respectability. Then she yawned.
Dinner the previous evening had left her in a state of confusion, as Dalton had whispered sweet compliments at the table and then abandoned her. He had spared not a word or a glance for the remainder of the night, and she knew not what to make of his peculiar behavior, so she had slept little.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Daphne.” Hughes bowed. “I knocked, but you did not answer, and her ladyship requests your presence in the back parlor, at once.”
“Oh, I am sorry.” Suppressing a chill of unease, she marched forth, per her ally’s plan. “I shall go to her, posthaste.”
In the hall, she admired the rich mahogany trim and lush burgundy carpets of Randolph House. The grand home boasted an understated refinement, which bespoke power and privilege without the garish décor that often accompanied such opulence. Had she the funds, she would mimic the sparse but sufficient ornamentation in a much-needed renovation of Courtenay Hall.
A footman opened the door, as she approached the back parlor, and she dipped her chin, in acknowledgement, as she had limited experience with such formalities. In the chamber, the full compliment of Brethren husbands stood.
“Good afternoon, Miss Daphne. My wife has explained some of your predicament with us, and we understand your concerns, but I am at a loss as to how I can help.” Just as Rebecca had said he would, Dirk vacated his chair and stepped to the side. “Will you not take my seat?”
“Thank you.” As Daphne settled her skirts, she bit her tongue against laughter, because her primary conspirator launched the prearranged plot.
“Darling, come here.” Rebecca rose from the sofa. “There is no reason we cannot share my spot.”
“What?” The viscount acquiesced, as Becca ushered him to her place. “You cannot mean to—”
“Posh, as we are all family here.” Before he could protest, the viscountess eased to his lap. “There. Is that not better?”
“Well, of course.” An endearing flush spread from Dirk’s neck to his cheeks. “But we have—”
The remaining wives assumed similar positions with their respective spouses, and the room grew as quiet as a tomb. Wrestling with apprehension and a dark sense of foreboding, Daphne clasped her hands to portray a modicum of confidence.
“Sabrina, just what are you about?” Everett shuffled her in his grasp. “My countess wants something—do not try to deny it.”
“Now why do you say that?” Brie wrapped an arm about his shoulders and hugged him. “I just love you, that is all.”
“I know you too well, my saucy Sabrina.” Everett narrowed his stare. “Have you overspent your allowance?”
“Well I like that.” Sabrina pouted and humphed. “Can a wife not express adoration of her beloved mate without reservation?”
“Gentlemen, why do I suspect we have just been ambushed?” Jason arched a brow.
In an instant, Daphne grew unseasonably hot, and she feared she might swoon, as the men seemed on the verge of discovering the ploy. Just as she considered entering the fray, Rebecca winked, and Daphne rallied patience and reclined.
“I believe you are correct, brother.” Lance grimaced, and he drew a heavily pregnant Cara closer. “Sugar kisses, you cannot fool me.”
“We need your assistance.” Cara snuggled up to Lance. “Is that so wrong?”
“To what purpose?” the marquess inquired.
“Miss Daphne requires your aid.” Rebecca pressed her lips to Dirk’s forehead. “And I know my chivalrous knight would never refuse a virtuous cause or a damsel in distress.”
“Oh, no.” Dirk cast an expression of horror. “Rebecca, I am no matchmaker.”
“Alex, I told you never again to meddle in other people’s affairs.” Jason wagged a finger. “If you were not with child, I would put you over my knee and heat your posterior for the mere suggestion.”
“Do not rip at her, as she is the reason we confide in you.” Sabrina folded her arms. “Else we would charge the field without you.”
“I knew it.” Everett rolled his eyes. To Brie, he said, “I will not involve myself in such shenanigans. Furthermore, I forbid you from inserting yourself into Dalton’s private liaisons.”
“I concur.” Trevor groaned, as he caught Caroline in a lethal glare, and Daphne squirmed. “And if I discover otherwise, you will not sit comfortably for a sennight.”
“But you conspired with Everett to induce me to betray Sabrina’s location, when she thought Everett sought a divorce, and she journeyed to our beach cottage.” Caroline bowed her head. “How is that different?”
“I had thought we were never going to mention that scene, outside our home.” Trevor shot a quick glance at Everett. “And she has us there.”
“So you are practiced in such sappy endeavors?” Lance queried, with a snort of laughter. “Do you negotiate contracts, too?”
“Oh, shut up.” Everett cupped Brie’s chin. “Darling, I love you. But I am no machinating mama, and I will go to my grave before I allow you to subject me to such humiliation.”
“But Dalton is our brother, and Daphne is to be our sister, so there is no nobler goal.” Sabrina wound her arms about her husband’s neck. “And I love y
ou, too, my shameless lord.”
“Captain of my heart, I will obey whatever you command, as I promised I would never to lie to you. But I beg you, do not refuse Daphne’s plea, as it would persist as a painful stain on my conscience, and I only want them to be as happy as we are, my cherished seaman.” With a tear-filled gaze, Alex asked, in a small voice, “Are you not happy, Jason?”
“Oh, I say.” Lance winced. “If you can dig yourself out of that one, without landing in the proverbial doghouse, you shall have earned my everlasting esteem and gratitude.”
Tension hung in the air, as the men and the women squared off as two opponents on the battlefield, and neither side blinked. Daphne feared the fairer sex might flinch, as the husbands would not yield. But Rebecca had assured Daphne the wives knew their spouses, and the ladies would win the day, if they worked together to achieve their objective. So she uttered a silent prayer and stayed the course, as she longed to claim Dalton’s heart. And just when Daphne thought she could withstand no more, and she prepared to concede the fight, Caroline emitted a soft sob. Then Sabrina whimpered, and Alex, Cara, and Rebecca followed suit.
“Bloody hell.”
“Oh, no. Not that.”
“Sweet Alex.”
Sugar kisses.”
“Darling Becca, please, do not cry.”
“Belay the blasted tears, and I will assist you.” Jason pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and dried Alex’s cheeks. “While I loathe participating in your scheme, regardless of your benevolent aim, I am fascinated by your pledge to ‘do whatever I command.’ So I will make you a bargain, my blushing bride.”
“A bargain?” Alex bit her lip and blinked. “But a gentleman would accommodate us for the good of the cause.”
“Perhaps.” The blonde giant, who intimidated Daphne far and away beyond anyone she had ever known, as he looked more than a little dangerous, scrutinized his wife, and he seemed quite preoccupied with her bosom. “Yet you know I am no gentleman, so let us dispense with the niceties, shall we? For each day you require my cooperation, I shall claim a boon, in payment, the tenure of which ceases when the happy couple weds.”
Brethren of the Coast Box Set 2 Page 71
