In the process of sipping her tea, Alex choked violently. Caroline examined the hem of her sleeve, while Rebecca gazed at the ceiling, and Brie whistled in monotone. Yes, Cara’s goose was well and truly cooked.
“How did you know?” Cara whispered.
“Do you think me ignorant?” Elaine shrugged. “I may not possess Caroline’s adventurous derring-do, Sabrina’s carefree spirit, Alex’s inestimable charm, Rebecca’s unfailing courage, or your inner strength, but neither am I blind. Although I prefer the comfort of shadows, and shall always shelter in the background, I see more than you realize, and I have known for a time that something more than friendship binds you to Lance.”
In that instant, Cara discovered she had woefully underestimated Elaine. “My friend, I am more sorry than I can say for not including you in our plan. My only excuse is that, since you must share his home, I did not wish to put you in a difficult position. I did not believe you could tolerate my confidence.”
“And yet I can provide invaluable insight, because I live with him.” Elaine shook her head. “I thought you knew me better than that.”
In mere minutes, Sabrina assumed command of their meeting and catalogued the events for Elaine, as they had occurred, but omitted any reference to Cara’s loss of virginity.
“Again, my apologies, as I never intended to offend you.” Cara thought of the embroidered kerchief nestled to her breast, which Lance had gifted her so long ago. Made of crisp white lawn, it had signified the purity of their commitment, in her estimation, but how could that be, given a scheme based on prevarication? “As things stand, I must reassess my course of action.”
“Because of me?” Elaine appeared hurt by the implication. “On the Brethren oath, I vow never to betray your secret.”
“This is not an issue of secrecy,” Cara explained. “It is a matter of honor, and in that we are none of us innocent. We were not honest with Captain Collingwood when we solicited his assistance. I must confess, I am no longer certain of my path, and I wonder if do more harm by refusing Lance’s proposal.”
“Are you mad?”
“You mustn’t surrender.”
“Do not falter.”
“You can’t give up.”
“All men are dolts.”
They plead in concert.
“I love Lance.” Cara stared at her clasped hands. “And because I do, I cannot, in good conscience, forge a union with him built upon a foundation of lies. If I cannot bring him to the altar, dignity intact, then I shall not wed him.”
“But Lance loves you, too.” Elaine inclined her head. “Would you deny him out of pride? Would you have him marry what he does not love?”
“On the contrary, I would have him no other way.” With renewed purpose, Cara pressed a clenched fist to her bosom. “I will have his declaration, or I will not have him.”
“Pray, indulge me.” Elaine tapped a finger to her chin. “My cousin is a rather stubborn sort, so you will have to be strong for both your sakes. Our sisters are correct in that you must stay the course.”
“You truly believe so?” In her mind, Cara revisited the kiss from the previous night.
“Elaine is right.” Sabrina waved a clenched fist. “You must hold out for love.”
“But, if memory serves, you did not.” Cara pointed for emphasis. “You enjoyed no such security.”
“I beg your pardon?” Sabrina faltered before squaring her shoulders. “I have always loved Everett.”
“But you were not equally assured of his devotion when you spoke the vows.” Cara reminisced. “In fact, as I recall, his pledge came much later, after you ran away.”
“What of it?” Sabrina glared accusingly. “He adores me to distraction, and I am ensured of his affection in all enterprises.”
“Then tell me, my dear sister.” Cara sighed. “Have you informed Everett of our little charade?”
“No.” Sabrina bowed her head.
“And why not?” Cara inquired.
“Because he is a man.” Sabrina wrinkled her nose and glanced at the door to her parlor, as if expecting her husband to appear at any second. “He would not comprehend the gravity of the situation.”
“I think you compound your falsehood by lying to yourself, my resourceful sister.” The world seemed to spin beyond her control, and Cara clutched the armrest of her chair.
“Hang it all, Cara.” Brie slapped a hand to her thigh. “If I told Everett of our escapade, he would turn me over his knee and heat my posterior.”
“The truth, at last.” Cara leveled her gaze on Alex, who smoothed her skirts. “And how would our estimable captain feel about being duped into aiding our none-too-virtuous cause?”
Alex gulped. “I see no reason to enlighten him.”
“So you never plan on telling him the facts?”
Alex folded her arms in front of her. “It sounds awfully treacherous when you put it that way.”
“But that is the situation.”
“I know, but can we not call it something else?” Alex fidgeted.
The answer, when it struck her, seemed so simple that Cara grew irritated with herself. “Bloody hell.”
“Oh.” Caroline covered her mouth.
“Upon my word.” Alex dropped her cup. “Hell hath frozen.”
“Oh, I say.” Sabrina hugged a pillow to her swollen belly. “You are distressed, as never have I known you to use foul language. But you must practice your delivery, as you will never survive the marital state if you cannot convincingly swear at your husband.”
“Let that be a lesson for another time,” Rebecca suggested with a giggle.
“Ladies, I am not proud of what I have done.” Cara paced the floor. “I must take full responsibility for this farce. But Elaine has reminded me of our philosophy as Brethren women, and I am ashamed to say I forgot from whence we came.”
“What are you going to do?” Sabrina and Caroline asked in unison.
“What I should have done in the beginning.”
“And that would be--what?” Elaine asked.
“Think of the oath.” Cara exhaled. “It is the same advice I gave Lance, last night. As I am no hypocrite, I shall heed my own counsel.”
After a pregnant silence, recognition dawned in five lovely expressions.
“Of course.” Caroline nodded once.
“How could we have overlooked the obvious?” Rebecca asked.
“Gather near, sisters.” Cara extended her hand, and the friends piled theirs atop, one after another, in a delicate but nonetheless powerful bond forged of blood, flesh, and bone.
“For love and comradeship we live,” Cara proclaimed. “And when next Lance proposes, I shall accept.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Therein lies the answer.
What exactly had she meant by that cryptic statement? For the better part of his waking hours, he had replayed his last encounter with Cara, over and over, in his head. Still the solution to his conundrum eluded him, and she caused him no end of torment.
“Lance, is something bothering you?” Admiral Douglas arched a brow. “Are you all right, my boy?”
“Uh, no.” He tugged at the starched folds of his cravat and cleared his throat. “That is to say, I am fine, sir.”
Standing on the dock at Deptford, Lance seethed in silence as the Brethren of the Coast prepared to cast off without him but found comfort in the familiar scent of brine mixed with kelp.
“Then you are in agreement with my temporary command of your ship?” Collingwood asked with a wry smile.
“Of course.” Lance nodded once. “Take care of my crew and the Demetrius, and sail her with my blessing.” While I steer Cara into my bed.
“You are an awfully good sport, brother.” Jason shook his head and snickered. “It is doubtful I would be as magnanimous were I in your shoes.”
The blonde Adonis might not be so congenial when he returned to find Cara nestled deep in Lance’s pocket. “On the contrary, I am sure were our positions r
eversed, you would do exactly the same as I.”
“On that note, I bid you farewell, as the tide awaits no man.” Collingwood glanced at Cara, dipped his chin, and then he took Alex’s hand in his and pressed a chaste kiss to her gloved knuckles, which Lance considered quite peculiar behavior, given his fellow knight’s fledgling courtship of Miss Douglas.
“Fair winds and following seas.” Lance sketched a mock salute and then gave his attention to the other lady in his life.
Gowned in lavender with a matching cloak, and a hat that featured a flirty feather, she personified understated elegance. But it was what lay beneath the tailored attire that snared his senses. Indeed, she manifested pure unadulterated temptation, which had driven him to foolishly force her hand at the Richmond’s gala.
Now, thanks to his grand ultimatum, Lance had no viable retreat should she reject his offer of marriage. So how could he solve his conundrum to his satisfaction?
“And how are you this morning, my hero?” Pretty as a picture, Cara quite stole his breath.
“I am well, sugar kisses.” He shuffled his weight to his good leg and winced as pain shot through his injured limb. “Shall we depart for London?”
“Oh, no.” She compressed her lips and peered at Caroline. “I should stay, as my sisters may have need of me.”
At that moment, Caroline burst into tears, and Trevor hugged her close. “Darling, please do not cry, as I can bear anything but your sorrow.”
“But I shall miss you terribly.” His wife gave vent to a plaintive sob.
And then Rebecca, in similar fashion, collapsed in Dirk’s embrace. “Becca, my love, do not weep, as I would carry only happy memories of your charming face to sea.”
“Promise me you will be careful.” The former spy sniffed and clutched fistfuls of his many-caped greatcoat. “Come home to me, in one piece, else I swear I shall never forgive you, and I will name our firstborn for your brother.”
As the husbands struggled to reassure their wives, Lance realized he envied them. It seemed selfish to think it, and he would deny it to his death were he asked, but he wanted someone to pine for him, when he embarked on journeys for His Majesty.
Wanted someone to cry for him.
Wanted someone to reminisce of him while he was away.
Wanted someone to come home to when he completed his mission.
And that someone was Cara.
As usual, pangs of guilt plagued his conscience, and he thought of Thomas. Courting the exquisite Miss Douglas seemed the ultimate betrayal of the cousin he had failed to save. Yet he could not dishonor the family name and title, and claiming Cara’s maidenhead required recompense in the form of a wedding ceremony.
As he waved a bittersweet goodbye to his lifelong friends, he remained stock-still while a chorus of orders rang through the air, and sailors scrambled into the ratlines. One by one, the ships of the Brethren of the Coast cast off--for the first time without him, and something inside him fractured.
“Oh, Lance.” Awash with worry, Caroline foundered against him. “What will I do if something happens to Trevor?”
“There, there, Caroline.” Startled by a compelling urge to comfort his friend, he cradled her head to his chest and held her, as would her elder sibling Blake. “The Brethren have made the run on occasions too numerous to count--”
“Have they been compromised?” In a flash, she jerked and pinned him with a fearful gaze. “Will the French be looking for them?”
“No.” Lance attempted to soothe her frazzled nerves. “I only meant they are well acquainted with the route--”
“Do you think General Bonaparte will be lying in wait, prepared to attack?” With an expression of sheer terror, Rebecca rested a palm to her protruding belly. “Is Dirk in danger?”
He scratched his temple. “Well, all missions involve danger--”
Caroline and Rebecca sobbed in concert.
It was too late when he discovered he had only increased their distress. “But I did not intend to imply--”
“Dearest, do not fret.” Cara shot him a glance of reproach, and he clamped his mouth shut. “Our brave knights know well the course and, as such, can anticipate anything the French throw at our men. Is that not correct, Lance?”
On an exhale he replied, “I could not have said it better.”
“Perhaps we should escort you home, sisters.” Cara wiped Rebecca’s cheeks, and then tended Caroline. “Lance, will you convey as much to Papa?”
“Of course.” He leapt at the chance to escape two weepy women, as he simply did not do tears. “If you will wait here, I shall summon my coach.”
After an unutterably painful ride to the city, during which Caroline and Rebecca cried the entire journey, he delivered the Brethren wives to their respective residences with one regret. To his surprise, the married ladies opted to huddle together in their misery, leaving him to share a bench with Cara. But with Dirk’s bride deposited on her doorstep, the always-polite Miss Douglas settled into the squabs opposite him and smoothed her skirts.
“Does this happen every time we embark on a mission?” Lance rolled his shoulders to dispel the tension investing his frame.
“Yes, though not usually to this degree. I daresay their pregnancies have something to do with the deluge we confronted.” She peered out the window. “Mama says that is a common characteristic of a mother-to-be. I daresay I have witnessed the same of Sabrina, and we both know she is no water pot.”
“Bloody hell.” He shook his head and studied her with renewed appreciation. “How do you do it, Cara?”
“How do I do--what?” She blinked.
Lance grimaced as he searched for the proper phrasing to convey his discomfit. “How do you deal with the gross profundity of emotions?”
With an owlish expression, she gasped--before bursting into laughter.
“What is so funny?” He folded his arms.
“You.” She wiped her eyes and giggled. “Only you could describe and diminish the love and devotion of a woman as a gross profundity of emotions.”
“That was rather unforgiveable, was it not?” Given her reaction, he could not help but grin. “Yet I would not miss the opportunity to enjoy your company, unreservedly.”
“Lance.” All trace of levity vanished from her charming countenance, and she averted her stare. “You must not say such things.”
“Why?” He perched on the edge of his seat. “We are rather more than friends, are we not, sugar kisses?”
The coach lurched violently, Cara toppled into the corner, and he availed himself of the favorable circumstance to claim the empty space beside her. Before she could protest, he hauled her into his lap and covered her mouth with his.
Soul-stirring passion ignited the instant their lips met, and pleasure rode in its wake. Unsure of his welcome, he hummed low in his throat when she speared her fingers in his hair and teased his tongue with hers. It seemed ages since he last kissed her.
How he longed to unleash the sultry seraph lurking amid the polite decorum, wanted to lose himself in the raw desire masked by the proper façade, wanted to taste the sweet honey of the lady beneath the elegant attire. And though she might deny it were he to inquire, Lance realized with certainty that Cara wanted him as he wanted her.
So he would bide his time, do things right, and woo her, as he should have pursued an innocent young woman. He would gauge her demeanor, and when he suspected she would be more receptive to his proposal, then and only then would he make his move.
#
It was another night and another ball. To his infinite thanks, Caroline and Rebecca chose to forgo the evening’s events, which afforded Lance the opportunity to dance unfettered attendance upon Cara and advance their courtship. But much to his dismay, Alex and Sabrina seemed to be everywhere at once. Even Elaine, who always sheltered in the shadows, acted in competition with him for his lady’s company.
A sennight had lapsed since the Brethren departed without him, and the first few days pass
ed without incident, as he and his bride-to-be commenced their daily ritual of comforting the wives while their husbands remained at sea. Given his knowledge of the supply runs and routes, along with Wellington’s latest troop movements, Lance surmised he had approximately two days to woo Cara before Collingwood anchored at Deptford.
Desperate to gain ground, and after much consideration and effort on his part, he arranged a delightful surprise and decided to throw caution to the wind at the Chomley’s gala, which had filled to overflow when he arrived. After a quick scan of the ballroom, he targeted the object of his affection and frowned. Looming as nettlesome sentries at either side of his ladylove stood Sabrina and Alex, and he suspected Elaine circled nearby.
“Bloody everlasting hell,” he cursed under his breath.
A chill of unease traipsed his spine, and he shuddered. For some reason Lance could not fathom, a single terrifying thought danced in his brain. Dare he contemplate it? Was it possible? Had Cara confided in their friends? And if she had confessed, to what extent and purpose had she divulged their secrets? Without doubt, his plan necessitated a new tack, with a concerted siege on multiple fronts, were he to reign supreme, and he paused to consider his options.
Just then, Alex glanced in his direction. When she whispered in Cara’s ear, and his ladylove gave him her back, he mentally tucked his halo in his pocket with devilish delight. Diverting to the card room, he sought three unwitting but effective accomplices.
“Everett.” He chucked Sabrina’s husband on the shoulder. “So good to see you and your countess out and about tonight, given her delicate condition. Tell me, how do you do it?”
“Evening, Raynesford.” Markham’s welcoming smile faltered. “How do I do--what?”
“How do you sit here without care?” Lance shrugged. “Daresay, were it me, I would be on pins and needles. Probably would not let my wife, if I had one, out of my sight.”
“Ah, well, Brie is pregnant, and she is the last person I would ever describe as delicate.” With a chuckle, Everett sipped his brandy. “I can’t keep her under lock and key, as if she were a criminal. You will understand when it is your time.”
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