Brandon studied the list, recognizing Weston, London’s premier tailor, and Toby, a superb bootmaker. “Is such haste necessary?”
“Yes. You want to make the best possible impression. Indeed, I suggest you postpone any public appearances until you have a proper wardrobe. You should probably hire a valet also, unless the late baron had one in his employ who can continue to serve you. If not, I can recommend a reputable employment agency on Bond Street.”
“You have planned thoroughly, haven’t you?”
“Not thoroughly. I haven’t had the time. But rest assured, I will. Making your formal debut in society requires a careful strategy.”
“You sound like a general conducting a campaign.”
A wry smile curved her mouth. “It is rather similar. I mean to transform you into London’s most eligible bachelor.” Her gaze again settled on his coat. “A new wardrobe will be the least of our challenges, I fear. You will have to conform to polite social strictures and cultivate a sense of decorum and disport yourself as a gentleman and develop more formal manners….”
Judging by her amusement, she was purposely exaggerating the ordeals ahead of him because she knew he disliked such trappings.
“You never objected to my manners in the past,” he pointed out.
“I made allowances and put up with you because you are American and a friend of my family, but now I mean to make you over with a new image. It will be impossible to turn you into an ideal husband otherwise.”
“You intend to emasculate me,” Brandon murmured, “by converting me into a stuffed shirt.”
“Not at all. But I cannot stress enough that you must strive to be gentle, not so forward and threatening. I have several candidates in mind, and they all have more delicate sensibilities than I.”
“I imagine so,” he said dryly. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I am intrigued to see how far you will go to change me into a namby-pamby.”
Kate laughed. “There is little danger of that.”
“But you are set on highlighting my shortcomings and overlooking my sterling qualities and manifold charms.”
Her green eyes sparkled. “Your charms, hmmm? Modesty is not your strong suit, I see.”
“You are enjoying having me at a disadvantage, aren’t you?”
“Quite. I believe it best to speak plainly.”
“Your plain speaking is one of the things I always liked about you.”
For a moment, she looked reluctant to accept his praise. Then she cleared her throat and returned to the matter of his reformation. “We must emphasize your fortune and title and estates and remain vague about your former occupation…downplay your actual career as a merchant, even a wealthy shipowner, and embrace your new nobility instead.”
“I warn you, I have no intention of becoming an idle fop.”
Kate shook her head. “If you care for your dependents and tenants, you will not be idle in the least. Done well, estate management is hard work. You can hire a bailiff, but an absentee lord benefits no one. Ash will be happy to advise you. He can also help you to better understand the peerage and our royal government and the workings of Parliament—although none of that is a priority at the moment.”
Her expression turned thoughtful. “It might even be wise for Ash to accompany you to Kent. That would help to expedite your education and make good use of what little time we have. When he arrives in London this afternoon, I can ask him if he is willing. As for our plan…while you are away, I will work on refining a list of candidates. I will also start planning various engagements for you to attend—balls and routs and assemblies and such.”
“How delightful for me.” He offered her a cynical smile. “Behold me in raptures.”
In response, Kate gave him an exasperated look. “I am not inviting debate, Deverill.”
“Now who is being overbearing? I shall start calling you ‘Little Dictator.’ ”
“If I am dictatorial, it is for your own good. You should be grateful I am willing to expend so much time and energy on your behalf.”
Brandon gave her a mock salute. “As you wish, princess.”
“You may deride me all you like, but you will have to make a sincere effort if we are to succeed. You cannot scare the ladies with talk of weapons and battle. You ought not speak about the conflict with America, either, and especially not your former privateering.”
“Why not?”
Her expression sobered. “I should think it obvious. For most of the Beau Monde, ‘privateer’ is merely a polite term for marauding pirate. I heard that you even captained a schooner against the British Navy.”
Brandon shrugged. “An exaggeration. I was merely aboard as owner, although in my youth I did spend two years apprenticing as a sailor aboard our ships at my father’s behest.”
“But you went to war against England, which made us enemies.”
At her accusation, he sharpened his gaze on her, while his tone held an edge when he replied, “If your navy hadn’t illegally impressed thousands of American seamen for over a decade, there would have been no need for war.”
Kate’s own tone was clipped when she retorted, “So you spent years harrying our fleet and sinking our ships and killing our sailors.”
“How would you feel if you were torn from your home and family and forced to serve on a foreign warship, perhaps to die in captivity?”
She pressed her lips together, clearly trying to hold back a rebuttal. “We will always disagree on this subject, so there is no point in quarreling about it.”
Perceiving her genuine ire, Brandon softened his approach. “I can see I have ruffled your feathers.”
“I do not have feathers, my lord,” she said tartly.
“Don’t get your back up, love.”
Visibly striving for composure, she gave him a cool look. “I don’t know how they do things in America, but here the appropriate interval for a gentleman’s social call is fifteen minutes. You have overstayed your welcome, my lord.”
Brandon shifted his glance to Kate’s companion. Mrs. Cuthbert was concentrating on her needlepoint, a vague air about her, but he suspected she was listening intently to their clashing.
He disliked leaving Kate on such contentious terms, but rather than dispute the point, he rose to his feet. With a polite bow, he took his leave of Mrs. Cuthbert, then her charge.
To his surprise, Kate accompanied him to the entrance hall—to finalize their plans, he presumed.
Instead, she sounded contrite when she spoke. “I am sorry for losing my temper.”
“I will contrive to forgive you.”
“I mean it, Deverill. I ought not have scolded you for a past that cannot be changed. We should let bygones be bygones.”
“You needn’t apologize, princess. We have too much of a history to stand on formality.”
She searched his face intently. “Indeed, we do. And in all seriousness, I well know the people you hope to influence. Many will turn on you and cut you dead if they perceive the slightest social advantage, and all your high marital aspirations will be for naught.”
Brandon held up her list of merchants. “I appreciate your efforts and will upgrade my wardrobe as you instruct. In fact, I shall display admirable forbearance in all your dictates. When I return from Kent, I intend to impress you with my sartorial splendor.”
Kate seemed relieved by his genial response and glad to return to their former easy friendship, for her tone lightened. “And I shall gamely carry on while you are away. Meanwhile, if you fix your interest on any specific lady, you should inform me at once so that I can revise my strategy.”
“I doubt that will happen. I am unlikely to find a suitable bride on my own. I told you, I will need your expertise.”
“And I told you, I will do my best.”
“I am all gratitude.” Bowing over her hand, Brandon brought her fingers to his lips for a lingering kiss, apparently startling her. She was flustered by his gesture and keenly a
ware of the intimate physical contact, if the fresh bloom in her cheeks was any indication.
“See, I can feign gentlemanly behavior if pressed,” he pointed out, flashing a slow smile.
With a visible effort at composure, she smiled back and allowed her amusement to show. “I only pray you can continue your sham for several weeks, Deverill.”
Chuckling, Brandon turned toward the door. He could feel Kate’s gaze following him as a footman let him out the front entrance.
As he descended the steps to the drive, Brandon felt satisfied overall with this second meeting. Obviously Kate was still angry at him for leaving England, perhaps even for spurning her all those years ago, but her ire was mellowing.
As for his own feelings toward her…Kate was just as captivating as ever, with her endearing charm and ability to laugh at herself. Indeed, she seemed even more special now because she had matured. She was no longer a girl, but a fully grown, infinitely desirable woman.
After directing his newly hired coachman to Bond Street and climbing into his rented carriage, Brandon sat back against the leather squabs and contemplated his dilemma: what to do about Kate.
Not only was she more mature and seasoned, she was far more controlled now. More guarded. Less trusting. She’d once looked at him as if he were the most fascinating, desirable man alive—and he badly wanted that look back.
Moreover, he wanted her. He relished her spirit and how she challenged him. Admittedly, he would rather fight with Lady Katharine Wilde than make love to any other woman.
Which settled the question for him. He wanted a future with Kate. The prospect of taking her to wive felt…right. Even more profound, he knew he would be the best husband for her.
Love or no love, they would make a fine match.
Yet he couldn’t just waltz back into her life and claim her after rejecting her and being absent for years. No, he would first have to make up for hurting her, for wounding her pride and her heart.
He could start by showing her how utterly desirable he found her. Kate was rightly gun-shy with him now. And clearly, she intended to use her chaperone as a piece of her defensive armor.
Brandon’s brow furrowed as a strategy began to take shape in his mind. He would have to woo Kate without being overt about it. Which meant he needed to maintain the pretense of relying on her matchmaking skills to seek some other genteel lady to wed.
And of course, he couldn’t conduct a seduction under the watchful eye of her companion.
A bemused smile curved Brandon’s mouth. He looked forward to finally getting Kate alone upon his return to London. In the interim, he would plot ways to separate her from her chaperone.
With luck, the next time he saw Kate, he would put his plan into action.
—
Woefully flustered, Kate made her way back to the drawing room, her hand tingling, her body hot, her thoughts bordering on dismay. Deverill had only to kiss her fingers and she felt sparks deep in her core.
And that sensual smile of his…The impact had left her reeling, as did his easy mastery over her physical responses. He was fully in control, effortlessly using his masculine powers to beguile her. When she was younger, she had often employed her feminine wiles to her own end, and now he was employing similar methods on her, blast him. He knew how deeply his mere touch affected her.
“I must say,” Nell observed in an admiring voice, “Lord Valmere is…an overwhelming sort of man.” She fanned her face in mock heat. “A handsome pirate figure whom a heroine in my novel might wish to ravish her.”
I would like to be ravished by him also.
Although Kate lamented the unbidden thought, such a risqué observation coming from her companion surprised a smile out of her. And silently, she heartily concurred with the sentiment. She had dreamed of Deverill last night, reliving her most cherished, long-held fantasies of becoming his lover. Her imagination had grown more powerful after seeing him wearing only breeches yesterday, baring his strong, sinewed body.
A few moments ago, when a lock of raven hair stubbornly fell into his eyes, she had fiercely resisted the urge to push it back. That disheveled look became him, as if he’d just risen from his bed after a long, lustful night of passion.
“I could almost envy you,” Nell said in a dreamy voice. “Although Valmere will undoubtedly prove very difficult to handle.”
“A vast understatement,” Kate replied dryly. She gave a disgusted snort. “I cannot believe he truly wishes a meek mouse for his bride. I will have to show him what a mistake he would be making.”
Nell looked at her curiously. “What do you intend to do, dear?”
“Why, find candidates who match his requirements. I predict he will grow weary of them in short order.”
Kate spent the next two hours drawing up plans and making lists of possible candidates. She decided on two who fit Deverill’s definition of mousy, with three more who better matched her own specifications, and a few less appealing prospects thrown in for good measure. By the time her brother and his wife arrived, Kate was far enough along in her planning to lay it aside for the time being and go outside to meet them.
Since Maura had fair hair and Ash had dark, they made a striking couple as they descended from their carriage. Maura, one of her dearest friends, embraced Kate warmly. Ash likely would have done the same, if not for his infant son sleeping soundly in his arms.
Named Stephen after Ash and Kate’s late father, the baby was not yet two months old, and his parents doted on him.
Kate properly—and quietly—admired her young nephew, and after settling her guests comfortably in the drawing room and arranging for tea, brought them up to date about her intentions to find Brandon Deverill a bride in exchange for his escort to France.
Ash showed his amusement with an appealing grin. “Deverill willingly means to subject himself to your machinations?”
“What machinations?” Kate asked innocently.
“You know precisely, minx. We endured your meddling for years.”
“And you know that I had the best of intentions. I would do it all again without question. Need I remind you that my meddling turned out extremely well for you, dear brother?”
Maura intervened. “I for one am very glad you persevered, Kate.” She gave a fond glance at her husband. “Ash is also, even if he is averse to giving you credit.”
“Loath as I am to admit it,” Ash said with fabricated reluctance, “I am profoundly grateful.”
Kate was beyond thrilled to see her beloved brother and dearest friend so much in love, but she was willing to concede her methods might not have been the easiest to abide.
Just then their son woke and started fretting, so Ash turned the infant over to Maura, but he continued addressing Kate. “I see Bella arranged to be out of town at a crucial time. You do realize she is setting you up with her own machinations?”
“Would Lady Isabella do that?” Maura asked.
“Oh, yes,” Ash replied emphatically. “She has advocated for love matches among our clan for far longer than Kate. In this case, she wants Deverill for Kate.”
“I am not entirely naïve,” Kate said with a grimace. “I know Aunt Bella is trying to throw us together.”
“How does it feel to be the victim for a change?”
“You have a point.” It was easier to press for a love match when the target was someone else, especially since her own situation was far more complicated than she had ever anticipated.
When her brother smiled, Kate settled for changing the subject. “I told Deverill that he could rely on you to instruct him about a nobleman’s duties and obligations. You will aid him, won’t you, Ash?”
“Yes, for Bella’s sake, and for yours as well. I know how much this trip to France means to you.”
“Thank you. Deverill is headed to Kent tomorrow, and it would help greatly if you would consider accompanying him.”
“You don’t ask for much, do you?”
“It is hardly anything at all
. A few days of your time, no more. And you will agree because you are the best of brothers.”
Ash chuckled, and Kate beamed back at him in return, secure in the knowledge that their good-natured ribbing was done out of love.
She deeply cherished her family. As orphans raised together, with ties of blood and loss, the Wilde cousins had come to love each other dearly and were fiercely loyal to one another. In truth, their family tragedy had brought them closer together. Moreover, they had learned to live as though every moment counted—because it did.
Their closeness was also why she was so adamant in her matchmaking efforts. She wanted her loved ones to find happiness.
It had taken Ash many years to finally come around to her viewpoint. She could take comfort in his happiness, even if her own quest for love might prove hopeless.
Now, however, Kate told herself, she had to deal with finding a match for Deverill before she could return to her own search.
Strange how the prospect of being quit of him once and for all was not so very pleasing.
Three afternoons later found Kate staring out her drawing room window at a drizzling rain, feeling restless and dissatisfied.
“What troubles you?” Maura asked while rocking young Stephen in her arms.
The trouble was Deverill, Kate thought in consternation. Or rather, her idiotic preoccupation with Deverill. He had gone to visit his new barony and meet his dependents, and absurdly, she missed him.
Not caring to admit how eager she was for his return to London, Kate settled for a half-truth. “You know how little I relish waiting. The sooner I can find a bride for Deverill, the sooner I can journey to France.”
“You have found some good marital candidates for him?”
“Yes. They are not ideal, but adequate enough, I suppose.”
“Are you reluctant to seek a bride for him when you once loved him?”
Kate couldn’t resent the intimate question from her dearest friend. Maura was the only one who knew the full history of her romantic debacle with Deverill. She had never even told Skye about climbing into his bed nude. “I confess, I am reluctant.”
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