Those were Blake’s precise thoughts. From past experience, he knew with some degree of confidence most women considered him pleasing to the eyes, and never had he suffered any difficulties between the sheets, in the back hall at the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane, in his coach, or wherever he chose to sate his lustful appetites. Given his connections, fortune, and title, what more could Lenore want?
“Perhaps we should begin with the big moment.” Dirk chewed the end of an unlit cigar. “How did you observe the singular occasion?”
Uh-oh. “I do not follow.”
“What he references is the actual proposal.” Jason scratched his temple. “You know, the instant you knelt before your lady, gifted her the expensive bauble, and asked her to become your wife and mother of your children, with all of the glorious unforeseen benefits the connubial noose entails.”
“I am not daft, Collingwood.” But he had hoped to avoid that particular detail. Swallowing his pride, Blake blurted, “I never asked her anything. Rather, I did what any man would do in a similar situation. I commanded her to marry me.”
For a few seconds, Jason just stared at Blake. Then Alex’s husband swallowed hard and peered at Dirk. “You were serious.”
“Would I lie to you?” Dirk chuckled and shook his head. “Brother, I could not make that up if I tried.”
“Yes, but never would I have imagined Blake would do anything so monumentally stupid.” Jason pointed, and then he seemed to think better of his comment, as he rested his elbow atop an armrest and slumped to the side. “I have nothing.”
Dirk swallowed hard. “Neither have I.”
“I, too, am at a loss.” Trevor furrowed his brow.
Perched at the edge of his seat, Jason wrinkled his nose. “How does one recover from such an exercise in ignorance?”
“You tell me.” Everett snorted. “As you are the one who abandoned a pregnant Alex, after refusing to wed her.”
“That is not funny.” Jason scowled. “At the time, I did not know she was with child, and I always intended to make her my wife.”
“Gentlemen, can we focus, please?” Blake rolled his eyes. “Trevor, as you are my in-law, perhaps you can share the details of your successful offer for my sister, given your seemingly insurmountable difficulties. How did you broach the subject with Caroline?”
For a few seconds, Trevor said nothing. Slowly, he smiled. When he discovered he had garnered Blake’s unreserved attention, Trevor jerked alert.
“Er, I made my case in the Chatham’s orangery.” Then Trevor blushed, and Blake guessed the remarkable question was not the only thing his in-law popped that night. “It was magical, and Caroline was overcome with joy.”
“Oh, I remember that, as you required the assistance of Sabrina and I.” With a snicker, Everett snapped his fingers. “If memory serves, Caroline was quite overcome, all right.”
“Will you cease your prattle?” Trevor huffed a breath. “It was an extraordinary evening, as Caroline and I resolved our first hurdle, and I got her to the altar, did I not?”
In the face of such rationale, Blake could not take issue with what he expected was a huge breach of hospitality. “Brothers, it is blood under the bridge. So, may we return to the matter at hand, as I would dearly love to secure Lenore’s concurrence before her uncle gains our shores and I have to pursue her to America?”
“America?” Dirk narrowed his stare. “What have the Colonies to do with it?”
“Apparently, the younger Teversham brother resides there, and I suspect he intends to take Lenore and Lucilla to live with him.” Blake could not bear the thought of his lovely Lenore living among the backwoods heathens. “And they are the Colonies no more, in case you forgot.”
“I did not forget, but I digress.” The elder Randolph frowned. “So let us reconsider your disastrous, if not comical, attempt at courtship.”
Too desperate to take offense, Blake leashed his temper. “You are never going to let me live this down, are you?”
“Not a chance.” Then Dirk checked his timepiece. “But I dread admitting the truth to Rebecca, as she swore you would strike breakers, and I must pay my pretty spy’s price. Yet, I am in your debt, as I gladly dispense her reward.”
“May I make a suggestion?” Everett inquired, with a smirk.
“Only if you are in earnest.” Blake braced for another shot to his pride. “At this point, I will take any advice.”
“Well, I happen to know that when Cara decided to chase Lance, she availed herself of Sabrina’s counsel and expertise at nabbing a husband.” Everett sported a wistful countenance. “While my unlikely countess provided valuable assistance to her relation, I always wondered why Lance never approached my wife for information about Cara, as no one knows her better.”
“Of course.” Blake smacked a fist to a palm. “I have access to a veritable expert on Lenore, living beneath my roof, and it never dawned on me.” In his mind, he contemplated the logistics and possibilities, realized he needed to go home, and he stood. “Gentlemen, I appreciate your guidance, and I know just what to do next.”
“Delighted to hear it.” Everett raised his glass in toast, and the other Brethren followed suit. “We wish you happy hunting, but should you falter again, you know where to find us.”
And so, with a spring in his step, Blake departed White’s, and steered his stallion for Grosvenor Square. As he rode through the streets of London, blanketed in the saffron hue of the setting sun and the chill of encroaching night, he pondered his approach, given the bonds of sisterhood ran deep between the Tevershams, and he did not want to alienate Lucilla.
By the time he reined in at the entrance to Elliott House, and he handed his mount to the stable master, he had formulated a plan of attack. He would be determined but patient. He would be firm yet obliging. If he was too aggressive, he risked frightening Lucy and losing Lenore, a prospect he found terrifying.
“Good evening, Your Grace.” Jennings bowed and collected Blake’s hat, coat, and gloves.
“And the same to you, Jennings.” In the foyer mirror, he checked his appearance. “Are the Tevershams in residence?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The butler stretched upright. “They are with Her Grace, in the back parlor.”
“Send Miss Lucilla to my study, posthaste.” He tugged on the lace trim of his sleeve, rolled his shoulders, and set a course for his domain.
As he strolled into the manliest room of his home, a hint of cigar smoke lingered in the air. At a side table, he poured himself a healthy dose of liquid courage, not that he needed it. Amid the rich mahogany trim, leather wall coverings, and an impressive suit of armor once worn by his ancestors, he prepared to face what could be his greatest ally.
“You wish to see me, Your Grace?” The bespectacled young lady curtseyed.
“Ah, come in, Lucy.” To set the proper tone for their conversation, he led her to the chairs positioned before the hearth. “And in the absence of others, please, call me Blake.”
“I prefer Cap’n, Your Grace.” As usual, she plopped to her seat. “So what can I do for you, sir?”
“There is a matter of some urgency that I would discuss with you.” Beneath her scrutiny, he shifted his weight and cleared his throat. Where to begin? “I am sure that you are aware of how, in our day to day world, a man and a woman can become sincerely attached, and how what might at first seem a tendre forms into something more significant.”
“Upon my word, you want to marry Lenore, in truth.” Lucy grinned, as she kicked her feet, back and forth.
“I do.” For some reason he could not fathom Blake perspired, and he downed the contents of his glass.
“But she resists your efforts.” Lucilla clucked her tongue.
“She does.” Well, things progressed better than he could have hoped. “And I am at a loss to understand why.”
“And you thought to enlist my aid?” When he nodded, she chuckled. “Cap’n, I will tell you everything.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Another package is just arrived for you, Miss Teversham.” Jennings strolled into the sitting room of her private chamber, set a beribboned box on the table, and bowed. “And Her Grace asks you to join her in her quarters, if you will permit me to show you the way.”
“Oh, what could it be now?” Lenore groaned, as she glanced at the mountain of parcels, which contained all manner of gowns, slippers, unmentionables, outerwear, and accessories. Given Her Grace’s impeccable taste, Lenore and Lucilla had spent an enormous sum of money, debts she feared she might never be able to repay, as she had no idea how much her father saved for their dowries. “And thank you, Jennings. I shall follow you, at once.”
After depositing her embroidery on the ottoman, she stood, shook out the skirts of her violet half-mourning gown, and smoothed her hair. Well nigh dragging her heels, she stepped into the hall, trailing in the butler’s wake. In the gallery, which boasted a sea of impressive paintings of Elliotts past, she made a face at Blake’s portrait and then stuck out her tongue at his image. Yes, it was a childish gesture, but she cared not, as he seemed blithely indifferent to her concerns.
For every logical argument she leveled, regarding the numerous persuasive reasons she should not marry a duke, her stubborn naval captain persisted in his courtship. And every time she raised the alarm, he ignored, and in some instances made sport of, her apprehension. Yet she could not disregard the vast chasm separating his regal sphere from her rather pedestrian existence.
At a double-door portal, Jennings paused, opened an oak panel, and dipped his chin. When she crossed the threshold, she beheld splendor unlike any she had ever witnessed.
Crisp white panels featuring wall accents of powder blue enclosed an elegant outer apartment. Matching furnishings of alternating damask and velvet, including two Hepplewhite chairs and a coordinating sofa, conveyed wealth and prestige, as well as a warm and welcoming sanctuary. And a Palladian window, festooned in coordinating dressings of pale blue silk and crisp white taffeta, with gold tassels and gilt carved supports, occupied an entire wall, which filled the space with saffron rays of sunshine.
The inner enclave boasted the largest four-poster she had ever seen. Hand-carved crest rails adorned with ribbons and drapery marked the head and footboard, and reeded finials crowned each post. The counterpane and pillowcases were done in sapphire silk trimmed in cream piping. A vanity and escritoire sat at either side of the huge bed, and a closet in one corner contained an equally resplendent armoire.
“Ah, there you are, my dear.” Her Grace smiled, as she glanced at a tall and impeccably garbed gentleman. “Lenore, may I present Thomas Hope, a personal friend of the family and one of London’s most prestigious interior designers.” To the stranger, Sarah said, “Thomas, this is my successor, Miss Lenore Teversham, soon to be Her Grace, the duchess of Rylan, and Blake’s wife.”
At such an introduction, Lenore flinched.
“Felicitations, Miss Teversham.” He dipped his chin. “Indeed, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I hope I may be of assistance. As Her Grace has engaged my services to create a unique haven to suit your tastes, have you a vision for your accommodation, or do you prefer I make recommendations for various alterations?”
The room seemed to spin out of control, imaginary walls enveloped her, and the floor shifted beneath her feet, as his words echoed in her brain. Dizzy with a brutal mix of confusion and consternation, Lenore stumbled in retreat. Unusually warm, she wiped her brow, and she gasped for air, as a heavy weight settled on her chest. Stubbing her toe on the thick carpet, she whimpered, turned, and ran from the bewildering scene, as Her Grace called to Lenore.
As she retraced her earlier steps, Lenore broke into a sprint, rounded a corner, and slammed into Lucilla.
“Oh, sister, I was just coming to find you. Look what Blake brought me.” With a chuckle, Lucy juggled a large, leather-bound tome in her grasp. “It is a concise study of crustaceans.” She flipped through the pages. “Are the illustrations not lovely? Have you ever seen anything so wonderful?”
“How many books is that, to date?” And why would her nemesis not stop buying things? “Wait a minute. Is Blake in residence?”
“His Grace is in his study, and I have lost count of the gifts he has generously bequeathed.” With a squeal of delight, Lucy hugged the volume. “Is it not rude to total such presents, when he has asked for nothing in return? And I am for my chamber to spend the remains of the day reading on a new favorite topic.”
How wrong was Lucilla? Although Blake had made no proposals to the younger Teversham, to Lenore he had made numerous illicit propositions, some which stretched the limits of her imagination and, she suspected, her physical abilities, and all of which hinged on what he viewed as their inevitable nuptials.
“By all means, enjoy your ill-gotten gain.” Riding a crest of high dudgeon, Lenore descended the grand staircase, which spread wide as it spilled into the massive foyer. Veering left, she traversed another passage until she perched at another threshold. For a few seconds, she mulled whether or not to knock. As her courage faltered, a series of lengthy, passionate kisses flashed before her eyes, and she slumped forward.
Torn between fledgling desire and the chill of trepidation, she gazed at her new slippers and wiggled her toes. To Blake, she owed everything covering her body, and that realization inspired soothing warmth and delicious shivers, at the same time, much to her chagrin. So what would she gain with a confrontation?
As she put her hand on the knob and twisted, she knew exactly what she needed from her captain. With no illusions of grandeur or successful rebellion, she barged into his domain and found him before the hearth, staring into the flames.
“Am I interrupting anything of importance?” Swallowing her apprehension, she closed the door behind her. As he always did, he faced her, his expression softened, he extended his arms and flicked his fingers, and she marched straight into his embrace.
“Ah, lovely Lenore, you interrupt nothing, as I persist in a constant condition of yearning for you, when I am without you.” As he pressed his lips to her forehead, he gave her a gentle squeeze. “You have no idea how I treasure coming home to you.”
“As much as it pains me to admit it, you are correct.” Nuzzling his chest, she sighed. “I cannot fathom why you want me, when I am sure the ton is littered with beautiful, accomplished women who would kill to be your duchess.”
“In that you state the truth, but none compare with you, and that is why I will have you.” With a playful nudge, he teased her, until she lifted her chin. When he set his mouth to hers, Lenore parted his tempting flesh with her tongue and savored the hint of brandy as he met her, measure for measure. Familiar heat invested her muscles, and she relaxed.
Just then, Her Grace rushed into the study, and the tension returned. “Upon my word, Lenore. Are you all right?”
Although Lenore would have preferred to retreat from Blake’s hold, he kept her firmly in his grasp. Making no attempt to conceal the fact that they had been engaged in a tryst, he rested a palm to her hip, in a scandalous display of intimacy, as he caressed her cheek with his thumb.
“What is it, Mama?” The frustration in his voice rang clear as a bell. “What do you want?”
“Do not take that tone with me, Blake.” Sarah arched a brow. “Per your instructions, I made an appointment with Thomas Hope, in order to redecorate the rooms, after the staff removes my belongings, while we celebrate the holidays on Portsea Island. But Lenore panicked and fled. Did you not apprise her of our plans?”
He tensed. “I may have overlooked that small detail.”
“You call that a small detail?” As it dawned on her that he now conspired with his mother, Lenore gulped, and her knees buckled, but her audacious host caught her. “And I have not agreed to marry you.”
“A mere triviality.” Again he repudiated her hesitance, and he frowned, as she squirmed, but still he would not release her. “Mama and I discussed it, and we feel the
moment is right for her to vacate her suite, so we can prepare it for you.”
“Indeed, it was my notion.” The duchess nodded with enthusiasm. “My dear friend Elizabeth, the dowager viscountess of Wainsbrough, did the same thing prior to Dirk and Rebecca’s wedding, and it made the transition so convenient.”
“Surrendering your personal accommodations to me is convenient?” Lenore gave vent to a cry of exasperation. “Does no one listen to me? Am I speaking a foreign language? I am but the daughter of a career military man. I am not out, and I have never had a season.” Then something the duchess said rang in Lenore’s ears. “Wait a minute. Did you say we are to celebrate the holidays on Portsea Island?”
“But of course.” Her handsome antagonist grinned, as he chucked her chin. “Dalton and Daphne have invited the whole family to join them at Courtenay Hall, and I sent our acceptance.”
“I thought you wanted to journey to Pemberton?” Lenore wriggled free and paced. “Did you not proclaim your preference for a country Christmas?”
“I did, and we will travel to the backwater, but not the original destination.” Blake glanced at his mother. “As I had second thoughts.”
“Why?” Oh, no. The queasy sensation in her belly resurfaced with a vengeance. “What is wrong with your first itinerary?”
“I should finalize the dinner menu.” Sarah withdrew but paused at the threshold. “And when you are ready, Thomas left a selection of swatches for your perusal.” Before Lenore could object, Her Grace exited the scene.
“Blake, what are you not telling me?” Grabbing fistfuls of his lapels, she held on for dear life. “You are keeping something from me.”
“Lenore, calm yourself.” Clutching her wrist, he dragged her to the side table, poured a brandy and a healthy portion of coconut rum, passed her a drink, and led her to the matching high back chairs near the fireplace. “Weigh your anchor.”
Without protest, she obeyed and then quaffed half the contents of her glass.
“Is this not nice?” Blake peered at her and winked. “I usually adjourn to my study prior to dinner, to savor a refreshing beverage and relax. It would please me if you would join me on a regular basis.” Assessing his fingernails, he huffed a breath. “Some might call my routine rather boring, but I find it quite comforting.”
Love With an Improper Stranger Page 10
