“I second that.” Propped on the armrest of his chair, Everett shook his head. “Damn foul business, and Sabrina and I stand ready to support you and your lady, however we can.”
“I believe I speak for the entire family when I say we will do whatever we can to help you and Lucy.” Admiral Douglas declined another brandy. “Even now, Amanda and Lenore finalize preparations for the ball, to introduce Lucy to society, tomorrow night.”
“And, I presume, announce the engagement.” Bereft of the usual provocation, Blake glanced at Damian. “While I looked forward to this day with enthusiasm, I cannot bring myself to rip at you, in light of the circumstances.” He paused. “Brother, I am more sorry than I can say, because I cannot imagine what you feel, as of this moment. I wanted to lay waste to an entire town, when I recovered Lenore. Had I suspected, for even a minute, that she had been violated—in truth, I know not what I would have done, but it would not have been pretty.”
“I, too, eagerly anticipated the courtship.” With a countenance of unmasked sympathy, Jason chucked Damian’s shoulder. “When I recall the events preceding my wedding to Alex, and your unfailing encouragement, on pain of death at the pointed end of your sword, I thought it only fair to return the favor. But I cannot make sport of your situation, and I do not envy you.”
“Wait.” George scratched his temple and peered at Lucien. “Did we miss something?”
“I believe so.” Lucien narrowed his stare. “When did Damian and Lucy enact a courtship?”
“We have not.” And that bothered Damian, because she promised to grant him an audience, and he had yet to receive a summons. “But I intend to propose at the earliest opportunity.”
“Do you know when that might happen?” Dirk shifted in his chair. “Have you scheduled an appointment?”
There was a time in every man’s life when he stood on the precipice of a great chasm, as he contemplated what had to be the most important commitment of his existence. To hesitate could result in catastrophe, which Damian had witnessed, firsthand, with his brothers, estimable warriors descended of the Templars, but for whom a trip to the altar almost spelled disaster.
When Trevor mistook Caroline for Dalton’s mistress, and kidnapped her with the singular objective of seducing her, he had no intention of marrying her. Of course, all that changed when Blake and Damian found the couple naked, in bed, and Trevor agreed to wed her.
For Dirk, the situation presented altogether unique circumstances, because female spies were a rarity, and a dangerous mission complicated the courtship, despite mutual affection.
Everett and Sabrina actually welcomed their union, but an untimely death and a difficult mother-in-law created unforeseen difficulties, which almost upended their relationship.
To everyone’s shock and amazement, Lance and Cara had been in love for years, but they did not declare their devotion until he was gravely injured, at sea. Even then, problems abounded.
In so many ways, Jason and Alex suffered the most grievous of miscalculations, since she was six month’s pregnant when she took her vows. Given her refusal to cooperate, Damian answered for her, during the ceremony.
An unscheduled stop at Portsea Island waylaid Dalton, in more ways than one, when Daphne’s brother stole a precious keepsake from Dalton’s ship. As many expected, Dalton lost his heart to the lovely provincial.
Then there was Blake, Damian’s longtime best friend, above all. In the middle of a crowded street, Blake met the woman who would be his duchess, after a sound upbraiding over a destroyed hat. Even before Cornelius Sheldon stole Lenore and Lucilla from Elliott House, Blake secured his bride’s acceptance, and he would have torn apart heaven and earth to find her.
The most recent member of the Brethren to fall amid perfume and petticoats stunned Damian, as never had he envisioned the quiet, delicate Elaine with the cunning, elusive Sir Ross. Indeed, their romance caught everyone unaware, when Ross guarded Elaine, after she witnessed a murder.
Perhaps the most unusual pairing occurred last Christmas while Damian holidayed with Lucy, in America. In exchange for evidence against his brother, Nicholas Sheldon secured Dalton’s assistance in winning Lady Almira. A dark secret threatened their chance for happiness, yet love triumphed.
If the previous courtships convinced Damian of anything, it was that the much heralded emotion often proved elusive for even the most ardent and determined suitor, and in the world of romance, nothing was assured except heretofore-incomprehensible embarrassment and excruciating agony.
“Brothers, I need your help.” It was then he found himself the subject of intense scrutiny. “Given I have stood as a spectator to your less than elegant battles in pursuit of your wives, I would avail myself of your knowledge and expertise in such matters, because I have broached the topic of marriage with Lucy, and she rebuffed my advances.”
“What?” Dalton slapped his thighs.
“Not again.” Lance rolled his eyes.
“You must be joking.” Everett blinked.
“But I thought all women lived in hopes of winning a duke.” Trevor scratched his chin.
“Apparently, not our dukes.” Ross smirked.
“Now, I resent that, Ross.” Blake scowled. “Really, I do.”
“Gentlemen, I share your confusion, and I am equally dumbfounded.” The chorus of astonishment, and the accompanying reasoning, mirrored Damian’s sensible conclusions, and he frowned. “So I would employ your advice. Tell me, how am I to persuade Lucy to accept my suit?”
“Very carefully.” Dirk snorted.
“Well I like that.” Impatient, Damian smacked a fist to a palm. “I come to you for guidance and counsel, and you make sport of my predicament, knowing what Lucy endured with Sheldon.”
“Damian is right, and we should not engage in the customary mockery that always accompanies the sentimental skirmish, when he asks for our support, and I humbly submit that I suspect I know why Lucy hesitates.” Leaning forward, Jason arched a brow. “You were not present for the discussion that ensued among the Brethren husbands, upon my return to London, after my supply run to the Bay of Biscay, but the conversation pertains to you and your current dilemma.”
“Oh?” Damian scooted to the edge of his seat. “How so?”
“It is simple, really, and I am sure our brothers will recall their words of wisdom, as they cleared the mental fog for me.” Jason shrugged. “The answer, I surmise, to your quandary has everything to do with Lucy’s fear of rejection. As Trevor asserted, and correct me if I am wrong, assuming you hold Lucy’s heart, you possess the power to destroy her.”
“Jason, you are a bloody genius,” Trevor exclaimed.
“Well hell hath frozen, because that is something I never thought I would hear you say.” Everett choked. “Then again, Collingwood is smarter than he looks.”
“Will you be serious?” With a huff of frustration, Jason shook his head. “Damian is in real trouble, because his opposition is, in fact, his chosen bride. Having fought and survived that vicious fight, I would aid him in his campaign.”
“Jason is right.” Suddenly, everything fell into place, and Damian knew what he had to do, in order to secure Lucy’s acceptance. “For good or ill, I must make my stand.”
“While I hate to be the bearer of bad news, I must inform you of recent developments, which may impact your plans.” Admiral Douglas peered from left to right. “There have been rumors circulating the halls of Parliament, ever since the end of the war, and Lord Exmouth launches a diplomatic mission to the Barbary States, in order to secure the release of prisoners and Christian slaves, and I anticipate His Majesty will deploy his Nautionnier Knights.”
“Then I have no time to spare.” Damian formulated a list in his mind. “I will propose to Lucy, tomorrow night, at the ball.”
~
Scandal had a way of shaking a young woman to her core, especially when it called into question her maidenhood, which reigned supreme as the full measure of a lady’s worth. For Lucy, t
he gossip in the wake of her testimony and Sheldon’s conviction, which resulted in a death sentence, infested her heretofore-pedestrian existence such that she found no joy in her usual pursuits.
Closeted in her chamber at Elliott House, she reclined on a chaise and marked the path of a cloud, as it traversed the blue sky. While she preferred the solitude of her home away from home, her mind was anything but quiet.
From the bodice of her pale yellow morning gown, she pulled Damian’s note, which sought the agreed to assignation, and she dreaded the confrontation, because she could not give him what he wanted unless she discovered the whole horrible truth of her situation. No doubt, that would result in a battle to end all battles, as she harbored no illusions and anticipated a devil of a fight.
“Lucy, did you not hear me knocking?” Hugging her belly, Lenore strolled into the room. “And I called out to you, twice, but you did not respond, and I was worried.”
“I apologize, sister, as you have more pressing concerns.” Lucy slipped the parchment beneath a pillow, because she was unprepared to answer questions about the dashing duke. “I was lost in thought and did not hear you, but did you not have company for tea?”
“The ladies departed a half an hour, ago, and they noted your absence.” In a strange dance, of sorts, Lenore eased to the end of the chaise. “Everyone wishes you the best, and you did not have to shelter in here, because they are family and would never hurt you.”
“I know, and they are precious to me.” Yet Lucy could not face them and their sympathetic expressions. “But I prefer my own company.”
“Dearest, you cannot run from what happened, and I fear you seek answers you may never find.” When Lucy met Lenore’s stare, they clasped hands. “I want to help you, however I can, but I am at a loss.”
“I love you for that, but there is nothing you can do.” No. Only one person held the metaphorical key Lucy required to resolve her problem, yet he could do nothing to unravel the larger issue, which functioned as a seemingly impenetrable barrier to their happiness. Indeed, from her perspective, they were doomed. “Despite the end of the trial, and Sheldon’s looming execution, I remain imprisoned in the past until I can find a way to break free of the chains that bind me.”
“But I do not understand.” Furrowing her brow, Lenore stretched her back. “What holds you captive, when the ordeal is done? Sheldon will pay for his crimes against us, and there are no more secrets. What occurred was not your fault, and no one in our family blames you.”
“You forget that we know not what that blackguard did to me, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot discern what is real and what is naught more than a drug-induced, terror-driven illusion.” Frustrated by her inability to manage on her own, Lucy shoved from the chaise and paced before the window. “Yet I am damaged, and nothing can mitigate or alter that fact. Until I can determine the extent of the assault, I cannot accept Damian.”
“Is that what holds you back?” Lenore teetered and tottered, as she inched to the edge of the seat and stood.
“Yes.” Clenching her jaw, Lucy pondered what Sheldon may or may not have stolen from her, and she gave vent to a sob. “I know not the depth of my ruin, and I can make no promises to Damian, or anyone else, until I know what I do or do not bring to the altar.”
“But—you cannot be serious.” Lenore rested a palm to Lucy’s shoulder. “Dearest, I am positive it matters not to Damian, because he cares for you.”
“And that makes it all right?” Indeed, it was Lenore’s last statement that fortified Lucy’s position. “If he truly wants to marry me, then I owe him every opportunity to establish the extent of my condition. I will not pretend I am something I am not, as I have too much respect for him.”
“Well, I have an idea, but you may not like it, thus I am hesitant to make the suggestion.” When Lucy glanced at Lenore, she averted her gaze. “It is rather shocking, and there are no guarantees it will help, but it is better than nothing.”
“Sister, I am desperate and have contemplated actions I otherwise might not have pondered.” Indeed, Lucy would do anything to vanquish the nightmares plaguing her sleep. “What is your plan?”
“Permit me to summon Dr. Handley, for a thorough examination, and I am positive I need not elaborate.” Lenore met Lucy’s stare. “While I am not as well-versed on human anatomy as you, I comprehend the personal nature of what I propose, given I have submitted to various assessments in preparation to deliver my babe, but the physician may be able to offer some assistance.”
“You want me to—to bare myself to a complete stranger?” At the thought, Lucy shuddered. “I am not sure I could stomach that, because it is far too intimate.”
“I know, my darling.” Lenore draped an arm about Lucy’s shoulder. “On the first occasion I was embarrassed, even after enjoying marital relations with Blake, but desperate times necessitate desperate measures, and you have few options at your disposal.”
“If only there were another way.” Then an idea occurred to Lucy. “Lenore, forgive the indelicacy of my query, but when Blake claimed your bride’s prize, did he know, for certain, that you gifted him your maidenhead? And what did you feel?”
“Upon my word, but you do not temper your questions, and you quite take my breath away.” Peering toward the door, Lenore clutched her throat and coughed. “If anyone else had asked, I would have refused to share such private information, and you are sworn to secrecy. When Blake and I first made love, which was on our wedding night, he seemed a vast deal more than aware of the proof of my innocence, and when first he breached me, I experienced brief pain, although he took extra care to ensure my discomfit was minimal.”
“Thank you, Lenore.” A brilliant plan developed in Lucy’s brain, and she reflected on the various means of execution, which required Damian’s cooperation. “I believe you have solved my predicament, and I know just what I must do.”
THE DUKE WEARS NADA
CHAPTER SIX
With the Season in full swing, everyone who was anyone vied for an invitation to the Duke and Duchess of Rylan’s ball, honoring Miss Lucilla Teversham, the fallen angel of the ton, as society referred to her. For Damian, such events often reminded him of his status and presented another in a long line of mundane responsibilities. No so on that night.
As his coach passed through the main gate of Elliott House, he scrutinized the polish of his thin shoes, which contrasted with the crisp white silk stockings, brushed a speck of lint from his black knee breeches, and assessed his white waistcoat and black tailcoat. A quick pat of his pocket confirmed the betrothal ring rested snug where he put it, and he tugged on his cravat, as the rig came to a halt before the entrance.
In the foyer, he doffed his hat and gloves, as he had on occasions to numerous to count, and then he tripped on the rug.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?” Jennings offered assistance. “Shall I announce your arrival, or do you require a moment to compose yourself?”
“I am fine, Jennings.” Cursing to himself, he stretched his fingers and prayed for calm, but he was as nervous as a giddy debutante on the eve of her wedding night. “And I am ready.”
At the massive arched entry, which opened to the ballroom, Damian paused, and the butler stood tall and proud. “His Grace, the duke of Weston.”
Given no one knew of his plans for the evening, his appearance garnered no more than the usual notice. That would change, soon enough.
In the receiving line, he kissed Lenore’s hand. “Your Grace, it is good to see you, this evening.”
“Welcome, Damian.” Lenore smiled. “I know someone who is anxious to dance with you.”
“Better not step on her toes.” Blake snickered. “That could have disastrous consequences, if you get my meaning.”
“Stop teasing him.” Lenore elbowed her husband. “Else you could find yourself banished to the study.”
“Not a chance, sweetheart.” Blake whispered something in her ear, and she blushed. “Try that without me.”
“Good evening, Your Grace.” Samuel Teversham bowed. “I cannot thank you enough for your support of my nieces during such a difficult time.”
“Believe me, it was a pleasure to be of service.” Damian nodded at Mrs. Teversham, a portly woman with brunette hair sprinkled with grey and twinkling blue eyes. “Hello, Alice. It is always good to see you. And how are you enjoying your first visit to England?”
“Oh, Your Grace, it is wonderful.” With an animated countenance, Alice gushed. “London is everything and more than I expected, and we venture to Greenwich, with Lucy, tomorrow, for a few days.”
“Indeed?” That put a fly in his cherry compote. “And what does Miss Teversham intend to do in Greenwich?”
“I have never visited the Naval Academy, the Queen’s House, including the famous Tulip Stairs, or the Royal Observatory.” Gowned in emerald silk, Lucy beamed, as she rocked on her heels. “But it has been a lifelong dream, and I am uncontrollably excited, Your Grace.”
“I wish you had told me, as I would have been honored to accompany you.” Summoning patience, which tested the limits of his self-control, Damian tamped his agitation at the unanticipated complication, because he needed to plan a wedding, and that was difficult to manage without the bride. Given his new orders, which assigned him to the command of Lord Exmouth, and an impending mission and sailing date, he could not procrastinate. “May I claim the first waltz and escort you to dinner, Miss Teversham?”
“Now it is I who am honored by your request, Your Grace.” Like a mischievous gamin, Lucy grinned and sketched a quick curtsey. “And I am too happy to accommodate you.”
“Then I look forward to our evening.” With her hand in his, he bowed and pressed his lips to the back of her gloved knuckles. “Till then, my dear Miss Teversham.”
After navigating the crush, Damian located two potential allies to aid him in his scheme, because he could not achieve his objective without a little conspiracy. Near the back wall lingered Lucien Wentworth, sixth earl of Calvert, and George de Vere, viscount Huntingdon, the other two remaining Brethren bachelors.
The Duke Wears Nada Page 5
