The Lucky One (Brethren Of The Coast #6)

by Barbara Devlin

  “Why did you not come with Lance and Cara?” Daphne discovered Dalton had retreated to speak with Dirk, and although her prospective suitor whispered, he gestured wildly and shifted his weight. Had she offended him? “And hello, Celia.”

  “Oh, we will never attract a beau with our brothers about, as they are veritable terrors.” Elaine rolled her eyes. “So the admiral and Amanda act as minders.”

  “Miss Daphne.” Exuding strength and dominance in his regimentals, Admiral Douglas bowed. “How do you find the city?”

  “A bit overwhelming, sir.” Addled by Dalton’s declaration, Daphne rallied her wits and seized the moment. “Lady Amanda, I wonder if I might call on you about an urgent matter?”

  “Certainly, Miss Daphne.” Wearing a navy coat festooned with insignia identical to that of her husband’s uniform, the matriarch of the family inclined her head and studied Daphne. “How very mysterious. What about Tuesday, next, at four? You can join me for afternoon tea.”

  “I would like that very much.” And perhaps Lady Amanda could ease some of Daphne’s qualms. “And I am in desperate need of counsel, so I will be prompt.”

  “My Amanda, shall we continue our walk?” The admiral pointed with discretion. “Elaine has located Sir Ross, and she is anxious to greet him.”

  “Should we allow it?” Lady Amanda frowned. “Lance does not want us to encourage her, as he does not consider Sir Ross a viable swain.”

  “Do you honestly believe we can stop her, if she is so fixed?” the admiral asked, with a chuckle. “Our younger generation is a stubborn sort.”

  “Hmm.” Lady Amanda sidled close to her husband. “As were we, my dashing sailor, despite my father’s conditions, so I sympathize with her predicament. Regardless of potential resistance, you know Elaine must follow her heart.”

  “Then let us do our duty, as I would not have her compromised into a union.” The admiral tipped his hat. “Miss Daphne, we bid you adieu.”

  Just then, Dirk shoved Dalton forward and hissed. “Now get in there.”

  An endearing red hue spread from his collar to his face, and Daphne tried but failed to stifle a giggle. “Is anything amiss?”

  “What was that all about?” Dalton inquired, ignoring her question.

  “Apparently, Elaine fancies someone named Sir Ross.” Given the openness of his family, Daphne saw no reason to temper her words. But as she settled her hand in the crook of his arm, she checked her enthusiasm when his muscles tensed beneath her palm. “Is there a problem with her choice?”

  “There could be, but I wager Lance will fight that battle, should it become necessary.” Dalton acknowledged a passing gentleman. “Now, let us turn our attention back to the discourse we began before we were interrupted.”

  “But I prefer to remain on focus.” Daphne lowered her voice, as they merged into the crush. “Why would Lance object to Sir Ross?”

  “Right now, I do not want to talk about Sir Ross and Elaine.” Dalton steered her to the left, along a pebbled path. “My dearest Daphne, I apologize for my insolent manner, and I would never take you for granted, so I would make my plans clear and avoid any confusion. Consider this my formal proclamation of courtship. I propose we make the rounds, for a fortnight, and then we announce our engagement, if you are amenable. My mother and brother would arrange for a ceremony and a license, so we could take our vows in the first week of June, just prior to Parliament’s summer recess and the end of the Season.”

  “Wait a minute.” As Daphne and Dalton halted in a small garden surrounded by tall hedges, the Brethren compliment stood guard at the entrance. When Dalton took her hands in his, and brought her to face him, she squared her shoulders. “Am I to understand you wish to marry me? Because I asked you that in Portsea, and you indicated otherwise.”

  “Can I plead momentary insanity, kindest and loveliest Daphne?” How could anyone refuse his dimpled grin? “What say you, darling? Will you have me?”

  “I know not how to answer, as you quite take my breath away.” Bolstered by memories of a difficult childhood, due to her father’s infidelities and her mother’s disappointments, she would not be cajoled into making the most important commitment of her life. “Do you love me?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Was it her imagination, or had he paled?

  “I believe I spoke plainly, sir.” Daphne pulled free and folded her arms. “Are your affections engaged?”

  “I think so.” He shifted his weight. “I would not insult you and claim certainty, as these are frightfully unfamiliar waters for me.”

  “You are serious.” It was a statement, not a question, and everything seemed to twist and turn within her.

  “Never more so,” her knight replied, without hesitation.

  “Oh.” She paused and prepared for the onslaught of excitement, euphoria, or elation, yet a cold emptiness pervaded her senses, and she sighed. “As many nights as I have dreamed of this very scenario, I had thought I would feel different.”

  “Are you rejecting me?” He appeared so deflated, as his smile faltered.

  “I know not what to do.” She squeezed her fingers. “What of Courtenay Hall, and I must shield my brothers.”

  “No worries, as I dispatched a solicitor to reconcile your father’s accounts and pay the taxes on the estate, the day we arrived in London,” Dalton explained. “Robert is commissioned as an aide de camp for General Beresford, as he wanted, and Richard remains in Portsea, under the supervision of Hicks and your cousin Harold.”

  “What?” Daphne’s knees buckled, and she would have fallen to the ground if Dalton hadn’t caught her. “You discharged papa’s debts?”

  “You seem surprised.” He held her upright, and she leaned against him, drawing strength from his unfailing support. “Darling Daphne, I told you I would take care of everything.”

  “Just like that.” She emitted something between a sob and a snort of laughter, as the weight of the world abated. “And what of papa?”

  “As per Dirk’s request, Damian has circulated a rumor of the governor’s impromptu visit to Penhurst and his sudden illness, which a physician fears may be contagious.” Dalton cupped her cheek. “The story is you enjoy our protection until your father can join you, in the city, but we both know that will never happen. We need only play our parts, and everything will be fine.”

  “And why would we not wait for papa, to celebrate our wedding?” Myriad possibilities raced in her mind. “Would our hasty nuptials not raise the alarm?”

  “So you accept my proposal?” He lifted her chin, bringing her gaze to his. “You will marry me?”

  “I don’t see how I can refuse, given the obligations you have assumed, on my behalf.” Daphne gulped as the reality of her circumstances beckoned. “According to law, as you have purchased papa’s markers, you own me.”

  “Bloody hell.” He grimaced. “It sounds rather nefarious, when you put it that way.”

  “I am sorry.” The world pitched and rolled beneath her feet, and she closed her eyes. “I need to sit.”

  “There is a bench over here.” Her erstwhile reluctant suitor navigated to a stone pew.

  “For years, I have endured the stress of papa’s destructive behavior, with no solution in sight.” Despite her best efforts, tears of relief flowed as a rushing river, which she daubed with one of the handkerchiefs he had given her. “When you showed up at my doorstep, detailing the brooch’s theft, and I discovered Richard had taken it, I feared we had at last met our doom. Instead, you are my salvation, and I am so grateful for you.”

  “I do not want your gratitude, Daphne.” Dalton glanced left and right and then swooped to claim a quick kiss. “While I will not lie to you and claim an undying affection you know, very well, I do not harbor, that does not mean I will never grow to love you. But do not let that diminish the monumental significance of what I do feel for you, which is something altogether mystifying, as I only know I cannot begin to contemplate my future without you in it. When I envision my l
ife, it is with you at my side. When at sea, your image will haunt my slumber, and I ache at the mere thought of being separated from you. When next I dock in London or Portsea, yours is the face for which I will search, and when we are apart, I shall count the hours until we are reunited. Were it within my power, I would employ all manner of romantic overtures to woo you, but I prefer to speak plainly, and I would not deceive you.”

  “That is more than my mother ever had with my father, so I think it a fine place to start.” After a few calming breaths, she stretched upright and noted the green grass, the buds on the verge of flowering, the puffs of white contrasting with an azure sky, and the cheery singsong of birds. How had she missed such beauty when she entered the park, and when had she ever indulged such simple luxuries? “I accept your proposal and pledge to do credit to your good name.”

  To her confusion, his expression sobered. “On that note, there is something I must tell you—”

  “Oh, no.” Filled with hope for the first time in a long time, Daphne stood and dragged him with her. “No confessions today, as I would stroll, and let everyone know I am yours, and you are mine.”

  #

  After checking his black formalwear, Dalton peered at Daphne and winked. Standing just behind Rebecca and Dirk, he waited as the manservant announced the viscount and viscountess of Wainsbrough. Then he stepped forward with his lady, stunning in the blue gown he had purchased for the impromptu ball in Portsea, and braced himself.

  “Sir Dalton Randolph and Miss Daphne Harcourt,” the Richmond’s butler announced.

  “And so it is done, my dear. Welcome to the ton.” As Dalton had expected, a murmur built, slow at first, and a sea of confident debutantes and emboldened rakes came alert, as a new entrant into society graced their company. Inside, he cursed himself for encouraging her to wear the sapphire confection, as he had selected it, in part, due to the low neckline.

  “Do you think they will like me?” She blinked.

  “Oh, yes.” The men, in particular, would fancy the angelic blonde, as she possessed just the right combination of innocence mixed with an underlying sensuality. To shield his bride-to-be, he remained fixed in Dirk’s wake, with the delectable Daphne anchored at his side, and resolved to guard her for the entire affair. When he spied Lady Moreton fast approaching, he spared the troublemaker nary a glance, as he had ended their brief but damning liaison the previous evening, at his bachelor lodging.

  At the usual back corner, the Brethren gathered, and he sighed in relief, when he ushered Daphne to the safety of the group. As Dirk had promised to enlist Rebecca’s aid in protecting Daphne, it had not surprised Dalton when the wives encircled the backwater girl.

  “Have you told her?” Dirk inquired in a whisper.

  “Not yet.” But he would rectify that omission at the first opportunity. “She wanted nothing to spoil the occasion of our prearranged engagement, and I could not bring myself to disappoint her.”

  “Our brothers have vowed to provide additional protection, but I would not delay.” Dirk glanced toward the terrace doors. “The sharks lurk in our midst.”

  “We shall have to remain vigilant, until I explain the situation to Daphne and win her forgiveness.” Just as Dalton had feared, Lady Moreton and Lord Sheldon had their heads together in conversation, and a chill of dread pervaded Dalton’s chest. “Did you apprise Rebecca of my lapse in judgment?”

  “Indeed.” Dirk gazed at his wife, and as always his expression softened. “I keep nothing from my viscountess, and you would do well to follow my example, as spouses have an uncanny ability of winkling secrets out of husbands.”

  “But Rebecca was a spy.” Dalton folded his arms. “She should excel at winkling.”

  “Then what is Sabrina’s excuse?” Everett elbowed Dalton. “As you would presume my most unlikely lady had chaired the Counterintelligence Corps, given her capacity for inducing spontaneous confessions.”

  “And I would swear my sweet Caroline reads minds.” Trevor winced. “It is bloody frightening, and I dare not attempt to conceal anything from her.”

  “So Sabrina and Caroline know, too?” That was all he needed to compound his problems. “Could you not have kept it from them?”

  “Not if I wish to remain welcome in my wife’s bed.” Everett wrinkled his nose. “Given we share an apartment and a single four-poster, that might prove tricky, otherwise.”

  “You could always sleep on the sofa in your study.” Trevor snickered. “Though it is a back breaker.”

  “And you would know.” Everett chuckled. “Considering how many nights you spent on my poor substitute for the proverbial doghouse, during the early days of your marriage.”

  “Are we not witty?” With a mighty scowl, Trevor stared at Dalton. “Heed my counsel, and tell Daphne what happened, with all due haste, as you do not want her to find out from someone else.”

  “Believe me, I am trying, but I would not do so in the middle of a crowded ballroom.” The signature notes of the opening waltz had him searching for Daphne. “But at this instant I have a dance to claim with my lady.”

  So Dalton mustered a smile, as he drew Daphne from her newfound allies, ignored Rebecca’s countenance of reproach, and led his bride-to-be to the throng of couples.

  “Oh, Dalton. Never have I attended anything so grand as the Richmond’s gala.” With his arm settled about her waist, and their fingers twined, she beamed inexpressible joy, and a strange sensation welled within him, warming his insides and quelling his unrest. “The fashions are spectacular, the jewels are extraordinary, the hothouse roses are magnificent, and the tapestries are awe-inspiring. I can’t help but wonder if I belong here, as I have no fortune or connections.”

  “Of course, you belong here.” It bothered him that she deemed herself unworthy, when she possessed more integrity in her little finger than the collective of revelers. “And I would ask a favor, if I may.”

  “Your wish is my command, sir.” She squealed with delight, as he whirled her in rhythm with the music. “As you have made me so happy.”

  “I like the sound of that.” He found her enthusiasm contagious, as the dark thoughts infesting his consciousness yielded to her euphoria, and the waltz worked on him in way he had never experienced. “But I would request a private audience, tomorrow morning, as I have an urgent matter I must explain before we venture to another party.”

  “Is something wrong?” Her bright light dimmed, and he cursed himself for ruining her celebration. “Have I embarrassed you? If you have reappraised the situation and wish to rescind your offer, I will understand.”

  “Would you surrender me so easily, angel?” The second he voiced the query he hated himself for asking it.

  “Never.” The subtle flinch of her fingers betrayed her internal unrest. “But neither would I hold you to our bargain, if you choose to end it, as I care too much for you to force you into a marriage you no longer covet.”

  “You care for me?” She could not know it, but she had just caught the attention of every inch of him—and a few wicked ones, in particular. “I mean, your affections are engaged?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes flared. “And I—”

  “Excuse me.” Lord Sheldon smirked. “But I believe this quadrille is mine.”

  Everything within him railed, as he refused to cede the gently reared virgin to the wolf of London. But how could he avoid causing a scene and shaming Daphne?

  “There must be some mistake, as this is my dance.” Damian bowed and extended a hand. “Now be a good lad and shove off, Sheldon.”

  “Your Grace.” The blackguard gritted his teeth and disappeared amid the crush.

  With Daphne safe from harm, Dalton turned and discovered Lady Moreton. Without a word of acknowledgement, he dipped his chin and returned to the Brethren’s customary meeting place, only to find Everett struggling to keep a visibly distressed Sabrina upright.

  “Dalton, fetch our coach, as I fear my wife is in labor.” Everett waved at Blake, who lent assi
stance. “Hurry, man.”

  Winding his way through the mass of attendees, he located the butler. “Summon the Earl of Woverton’s rig, at once. And send a messenger to Dr. Handley, with due haste, as it is an emergency.”

  “Yes, sir.” The manservant bowed and rushed to relay the orders.

  “I told you we should have stayed home, as did Lance and Cara.” Everett walked Sabrina to the entrance. “When you carry our next child, I shall confine you to Beaumaris, as I will not risk your life or that of our babe for a silly ball.”

  “But I only wanted to—oh.” Wincing, Sabrina bit her lip and hugged her belly. “Everett, I am afraid, as it is too early.”

  “Hold on to me, darling.” Despite the public venue, Everett kissed her forehead, stared at Dalton, and frowned. “I will let nothing hurt you or our second born.”

  “Where is mama?” Sabrina moaned and then shrieked, as a puddle of fluid pooled at her feet. “Oh, no. My water just broke.”

  “Bloody hell.” Everett waved with frantic intensity, as the coach arrived, and footmen scurried to assist Everett and Sabrina. “Dalton, locate the admiral and Lady Amanda, and tell them what happened.”

  “I will find them.” In the main hall, Dalton glanced straight ahead and then right. The admiral preferred to linger among the old guard, and Lady Amanda never left his side, so he veered toward the salon. As the venerable leader of the Brethren traded war stories with retired Royal Navy men, Sabrina’s mother perched at the end of a sofa, sharing conversation with the wives.

  When she spied Dalton, her smile morphed into a frown, and she stood. “Mark, I think something is wrong.”

  “What is it?” the admiral asked, as they huddled near the front wall.

  “Sabrina is in labor, and Everett has taken her home,” Dalton said, in a low voice.

  “But she is not due for another few weeks.” Lady Amanda clutched her husband’s arm. “Hurry, Mark. We must go to her.”

  “I will relay the information to the others.” Then Dalton sprinted into the ballroom. In mere minutes, he related the pertinent details to Blake, Damian, Elaine, and Celia. When Dirk and Rebecca exited the dance floor, Dalton signaled his brother and sister-in-law and explained the events. “Where is Daphne?”