A Necessary Husband

by Debra Mullins

Startled, Lucinda dropped her hand from his arm. "That is the third time tonight that I have heard you utter a profanity. I will thank you to control your language in polite company, my lord."

  "And that is the third time tonight you have referred to me as 'my lord'... Lucy," he replied with an insolent smile. The barbarian was back, and her foolish fantasies evaporated instantly.

  She drew herself up. "My name is Lucinda," she corrected coolly. "But you may call me Mrs. Devering."

  "And my name is Mr. Garrett Lynch," he responded. "Or Captain Lynch, if you prefer. Not Lord Lynch."

  "Actually, the proper address would be Lord Kelton."

  "Mrs. Devering, you will find that I am improper in many respects."

  As he stared at her, color rose in her cheeks. Such boldness! But she would not let him fluster her. "That does not surprise me, my l— er, Captain Lynch."

  "See? That was not so very hard, was it?"

  "Would you care to see your sister or not?" she asked through gritted teeth.

  With an exaggerated sweep of his arm, he silently indicated that she precede him.

  Odious man. How could she ever have thought him attractive?

  * * *

  Repressed wench. Garrett stalked along behind Mrs. Devering, watching the way her skirts swayed as she walked. He wondered what connection Mrs. Devering had to his sister. And where, he speculated, was Mr. Devering?

  He had been a long time at sea, and he would have worried if he hadn't felt the tug of attraction, especially once he'd looked into her big brown eyes. But then her icy words had reminded him how much he disliked the English.

  He had come miles out of his way to collect his sister, and he was in a foul mood. He certainly didn't need some prissy, patronizing lady scolding him about his manners. Especially one that he might have tried to talk into his bed, had circumstances been different.

  The unwanted attraction worsened his already thunderous mood.

  It was bad enough that his mother had died while he was away at sea. Then he had rushed back to Boston, only to find he had missed the funeral by several months. He had reached his breaking point when he'd discovered that Meg had taken off for England, to go visit the grandfather they had never seen.

  That had been the old man's choice, he thought darkly as they approached the study.

  The Duke of Raynewood had disowned Gar-rett's father for marrying an Irishwoman against the old man's wishes. And now that the duke's older son had died in a carriage accident, suddenly the old man had come seeking the children of the son he had betrayed. Well, to hell with his precious title.

  Garrett strode into the study behind the stiff back of Mrs. Devering, noting that Erasmus had taken the position of power in seating himself behind his desk. Garrett slammed the door behind him, grinning like a pirate as his grandfather and Mrs. Devering both jumped.

  Mrs. Devering gave him a disapproving look, and for the first time in weeks, he wanted to laugh out loud. If only she weren't married. If only he had the time—

  "Garrett!" Meg launched herself into his arms, and he held her close, all other thoughts forgotten. She was all the family he had left in the world.

  Erasmus cleared his throat, and Garrett glared at him over his sister's dark curls. She was all the family he was willing to acknowledge, anyway.

  "Perhaps we have gotten off on the wrong foot," the duke said stiffly.

  "We got off on the wrong foot the instant you kidnapped my sister," Garrett shot back.

  "Kidnapped? Are you mad?" The elderly man's voice shook with proud fury. "If you weren't my grandson, I'd call you out for such an accusation!"

  "That wouldn't do your precious title any good now, would it?" Garrett taunted.

  "Gentlemen, please compose yourselves," Mrs. Devering said, stepping between them with hands raised in a calming gesture.

  "You're not fit to bear the Stanton name," the duke spat, "much less the title."

  "Then it's a good thing my father took my mother's name. I bet you hated that, didn't you, old man?" Garrett gave a harsh laugh. "And I don't want your title. It can die with you, for all I care."

  Erasmus paled, but then straightened his spine and glared at Garrett with such contempt that he almost felt respect for the old fellow.

  "If you despise me so, why are you here?" Erasmus asked stiffly.

  "I got what I came for," Garrett said, holding Meg close. "My ship is waiting to set sail for Boston. Tonight."

  "No!" both women cried.

  Lucinda took a step forward in protest, and Meg shoved out of Garrett's arms. "I'm not leaving, Garrett Lynch, and nothing you say can make me!" the girl vowed.

  Garrett stared at his younger sister in shock. "What do you mean, you're not leaving? Of course you're leaving! We're both going back to Boston tonight."

  "You go if you want to," Meg returned with a toss of her head, "but I am staying here with Grandfather. I like it here."

  "What do you mean, you like it here?"

  "Grandfather has treated me quite well," Meg informed him. "He's bought me some lovely gowns and is going to take me to London. And Lucinda has taught me all about proper manners and how to dance."

  "She has, has she?" Garrett sent a dark glance at Lucinda, who looked at him as if he were an insect. "Meg, your home is in Boston, with me."

  "Why should I go back to Boston, just to watch you sail away again?" she snapped. "You left us all alone, Garrett. When Mother died, I had no one to help me make the arrangements for her burial. At least Grandfather isn't going to sail away and leave me, like you did."

  Guilt crashed over him like the tide against the shore. But didn't she realize he'd had no choice?

  "I did what I had to in order to provide for the both of you," he whispered.

  "We didn't need the money as much as we needed you, Garrett," Meg said softly. She laid a hand on his cheek. "I want to stay here in England for a while and get to know Grandfather."

  "Don't be foolish, Meg." Desperation made his tone harsh. "Go pack your things. You're coming home to Boston with me tonight."

  "No, I'm not." Meg turned and went to stand by the duke. She faced Garrett squarely, and he realized with a shock that his baby sister had somehow grown into a woman. "I'm twenty-two years old, Garrett, and you can't make me do what you want. For once I am going to do what I want."

  "And you want to stay here."

  "Yes."

  Garrett looked from Meg's face, so full of determination, to the duke's, silently gloating, and to Lucinda's, quietly compassionate.

  When had he lost control of the situation?

  Meg was right that he couldn't force her to leave. But he wasn't going to leave her at the mercy of their grandfather, either. The old man had betrayed his own flesh and blood once before, and Garrett intended to be around when Erasmus finally showed his true colors.

  "Then I'm staying, too." He glanced coldly at his grandfather. "I assume there's room for me someplace in this pile of rocks?"

  "I'll have Stephens prepare a room," Erasmus said, triumph in his voice.

  "Fine." Garrett spun on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

  * * *

  "Captain!" Lucinda called, hurrying after the American. Her steps were three to his one. Lifting her skirts a bit above her ankles, she ran to catch up to him as he disappeared around a corner of the hallway.

  She rounded the same corner at a brisk trot and smacked straight into his broad, muscled chest.

  A brief whiff of sea and pure male made her head spin. Strong hands clamped around her upper arms, steadying her and pulling her an inch closer to that powerful, masculine body. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, her legs aligned with his, her eyes even with his throat.

  She took a deep breath, and that delicious scent of seafaring male made her body tingle in a way she hadn't felt since she was a girl.

  "Is there something I can do for you, Mrs. Devering?"

  For some reason, that innocent question
asked in such a low, masculine voice sparked the naughtiest of ideas in her head. She opened her mouth to blurt out what she was thinking, but the smug gleam in those bluer-than-blue eyes stopped her.

  Good Lord, what was she doing?

  She jerked from his hold so quickly she stumbled again. He steadied her with a hand on her arm—a hand she shook off the instant she regained her balance.

  Stealing a moment to gain control, she tucked a stray curl back into place, then smoothed her skirts, not looking at him. What was the matter with her? She had been reacting like a bedazzled schoolgirl ever since she had set eyes on the man!

  "Your grandfather sent me after you," she told him, her voice calm despite her tumultuous emotions.

  "I'm certain he did. However, you can assure the duke that I have no intention of stealing the silver."

  Her mouth fell open. "His Grace would never think such a thing!"

  He gave a snort of derision and traced a gentle finger along her jaw, and she shut her mouth with a snap. "I'm sure you believe that, too."

  She stepped back, calling upon all her training to calm her skipping pulse and maintain an unruffled demeanor. "Actually, he wanted me to make sure you have everything you need for the night."

  "Did he?" He glanced over her from head to toe with frank male approval. "Well, there might be a thing or two..."

  Speechless, breathless, she felt her heart pound with shock at such brazenness. She couldn't possibly feel excitement. Summoning all her control, she replied coldly, "Captain, I believe you have misunderstood me."

  He gave a harsh bark of laughter. "No, Mrs. Devering, I understand you all too well. More's the pity."

  With that, the arrogant beast set off down the hall, leaving Lucinda staring after him.

  Chapter 2

  Garrett slept soundly in his grandfather's house, a fact that irritated him mightily. But after so many months of sea travel, he supposed it was natural for a man to sleep like a babe in such a huge, soft bed, especially one that wasn't moving.

  As he descended the staircase at half-past eight the next morning, he thought about the lovely Mrs. Devering, who had looked so scandalized when he'd flirted with her. Had he passed the night wrapped in those soft white arms, he could have forgiven himself the indulgence of sleeping late that morning—but since he'd slept alone in that big bed, he was only annoyed.

  Too bad she was married. He would have liked to thaw her prissy English ways with some hot-blooded American loving. Perhaps this evening he'd have better luck, and find a pretty lass to tangle the sheets with him.

  But for now, he had business. He followed a servant to the Green Salon, where Tim O'Brien awaited him.

  Tim was the son of a seaman and the grandson of a seaman. First mate of the Trinity, he aspired no further and had made it clear that he was content to remain with Captain Lynch for as long as he was able-bodied enough to sail. Garrett rewarded skill, and he rewarded loyalty. Tim O'Brien was a master of both.

  Tim now stood in the middle of the opulent room, mouth agape as he stared at the fine furnishings. Pale green silk lined the walls, and his feet sank into plush, verdant carpet. Against the backdrop of such wealth, Tim should have looked ridiculous with his simple clothing, day's growth of beard, and mouse-brown hair sticking out beneath his dark blue cap. But to Garrett, he looked like all that was familiar and dependable in his world.

  "Good morning to you, Tim," he said as he entered the room. "And thanks for coming so quickly, and for bringing my sea chest. I was desperately in need of a change of clothing."

  "I'm thinking you should have brought your evening clothes," Tim answered, his lined face creasing in a grin.

  "We need to discuss the change in plans." Garrett paced, wishing he had a wooden deck under his feet. "As I said in my message, there has been a delay."

  "Not too much of one, I hope," Tim replied, his eyes serious. "You're aware we have to be in Calais at the end of the month to fetch that shipment of silk. If we're not there, that snake Edmond Fouliere will sell the lot of it to someone else and leave us to pay the forfeit fee."

  "I have every intention of being in Calais by month's end. I just need a day or so to talk some sense into my sister."

  Tim grinned. "Captain, I have three sisters myself, and such a thing cannot be done that fast."

  "I will make Meg see reason," Garrett vowed. "However, should she prove stubborn about the matter—"

  "A sister of yours, stubborn?" Tim rolled his eyes. "Perish the thought."

  "Should she prove stubborn," Garrett repeated with a glare, "we shall need an alternate plan. If she does not see reason within two days, I want you to take the Trinity to Calais and seal the bargain with Fouliere. Once you return, my sister will be ready to leave, if I have to tie her up and carry her."

  Tim chuckled. "You'd best start practicing your knots, then."

  "Why do I keep you on?" Garrett growled with fond exasperation. He strode to the door and swept it open. "Be off with you then, and watch over my ship and my men." Garrett signaled to a nearby servant in the hall. "Please see Mr. O'Brien to the door," he instructed.

  "What, you'll not escort me yourself?" Tim placed a hand over his heart. " 'Tis crushed I am, Captain."

  "I don't know where the blasted door is," Garrett muttered.

  Tim laughed. "I'll bid you farewell then, Captain. And I'll see you and your sister in two days' time." The mate followed the footman down the hall, like a breath of fresh air departing the stilted atmosphere of Raynewood.

  Garrett's stomach growled, and he realized he was half starved. He glanced around for a footman—there was generally one underfoot at every moment—when his attention was snared by a movement on the stairs. He looked up into the cool visage of his grandfather.

  The duke was not one to be cowed, especially by his own grandson. He ignored Garrett's glare and continued to descend the stairs at an unhurried pace, as if the air between the two men did not suddenly thrum with tension.

  Even though it was daytime, the duke wore somber colors. Today's coat was a shade of claret so dark it bordered on brown. His neck cloth was tied in precise folds, and every snowy hair was in place. Garrett's stomach grumbled, sounding like a roar in the silence, and making him feel about as socially polished as a beggar.

  The duke's lips twitched. "Good morning, grandson. I expect you are hungry this morning?"

  Garrett eyed the man suspiciously. "I could eat."

  "The breakfast room is down that hall and to the right," Erasmus said, pointing. "Are you in need of an escort?"

  "I can navigate a ship to any place in the world," Garrett replied. "I'm certain I can find a room in a house, even one as oversized as this one is."

  "Then if you will excuse me, I have estate business to attend to. I shall be in my study if you need me."

  "I won't," Garrett said curtly.

  Erasmus raised his brows in an expression Garrett had seen many times in his own mirror— condescending amusement. "Should you require anything, simply ask a servant. I'd like you to feel at home here." The old man gave him a small smile before he turned down the opposite hallway to his study.

  Garrett headed down the hallway toward the breakfast room. "Feel at home?" he muttered. "The hell I will."

  * * *

  Lucinda sat alone in the breakfast room, moving her eggs around her plate in a pretense of eating.

  Aside from the unexpected arrival of Meg's brother, last evening had gone splendidly. Meg was so bright and beautiful that she was bound to make an excellent match before the season was out. And once Meg was betrothed, Lucinda's future was assured as well.

  When the duke had first proposed his plan, Lucinda had thought it impossible. Make a proper English lady of an American hoyden in time for the season? See the girl well married to a titled peer? Yet Meg had proven an able student. Lucinda was well pleased with the girl's progress, as was the duke.

  The only one not pleased was Garrett Lynch.

  Lucinda frow
ned. She knew the duke was secretly thrilled that his grandson had come to England, but she feared Meg's brother was going to be an immense obstacle.

  He seemed to honestly care for his sister, so she couldn't understand his selfish desire to return the girl to the wilds of America. Had he no idea of the advantages Meg would claim simply by being the granddaughter of the Duke of Raynewood? Had he no comprehension of the life of luxury she would lead married to an English nobleman?

  Not every woman was handed the opportunity to be a guaranteed social success, and Meg had it by virtue of her birth. By escorting Meg in Society, Lucinda would also find the one thing she most needed to survive in the polite world—a husband.

  She didn't really want another husband. One had been more than enough; look where that disaster had landed her! But since she was not an heiress, she had no other options.

  The duke had put it about that Lucinda was simply a good friend of the family, somewhat close to his granddaughter's age, who had graciously agreed to take the young lady under her wing. No one knew the truth: that Lucinda was all but destitute and homeless, thanks to her philandering husband. Marriage would allow her to keep body and soul together and her family honor and dignity intact. If her despicable brother-in-law had not managed to destroy her chances with his unfounded rumors.

  "Well, now, a bit early for a visit, wouldn't you say, Mrs. Devering?"

  The deep voice jerked her from her musings. Garrett stood in the doorway of the breakfast room.

  "And good morning to you, Captain," she answered tartly.

  He grinned at her, flashing those ridiculously appealing dimples as he walked over to the sideboard where breakfast was laid out. She couldn't help but notice again what a large man he was, especially since the savage appeared before her in merely his trousers and shirtsleeves. The white shirt fit him well, emphasizing his broad shoulders and the ripple of his muscles as he walked. But really, had they no modesty in America? Where was his coat, his cravat?

  He turned to face her, his plate piled high with eggs and sausage, and he raised his eyebrows as he caught her looking at him.

  "Did you need something, Mrs. Devering?"