My Fair Lover

by Nicole Jordan

  “It is your own fault,” Kate rasped.

  Determined to seize control back from him, she withdrew her hand from his grasp. But in that moment, she hit upon a plan.

  She didn’t want to lose Deverill—to that witch Julia Dalton or even to that paragon of bridal candidates, Daphne Farnwell. Therefore, she would heed Maura’s wise advice to act.

  She had no other choice, Kate reminded herself. The women in her family were not shrinking violets. No self-respecting Wilde lady would sit back and relinquish her gentleman to a rival, or worse, actively help the object of her affection find someone else to wed.

  If she wanted Deverill, she needed to fight for him.

  Making up her mind, she took a deep breath. She would answer “yes” to his marriage offer.

  At least conditionally.

  A betrothal would keep him safe from the likes of Julia Dalton and Phoebe Armitage for the moment. More crucially, it would give her time to see if she could change his mind about love…perhaps even the chance to make him love her.

  Regaining a measure of her strength from her new resolve, Kate reached up and slid her arms around his neck. “I think you are right,” she murmured, holding his surprised gaze.

  She could tell she had caught Deverill off guard; she had shocked herself a little as well.

  “How so?” he replied cautiously.

  “I believe I will accept your proposal of marriage after all.”

  Savoring his stunned silence, Kate bit back a smile. It felt good to turn the tables on Deverill for once, to put him on the defensive. He was eyeing her skeptically, as if he couldn’t credit her sudden change of heart.

  She lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “Yesterday you said you might want to marry me. Are you already reneging on your offer?”

  “No.”

  “Well then, I will agree to a temporary engagement.”

  He frowned. “Why temporary?”

  “You said you wanted protection from the machinations of Lady Dalton and Miss Armitage. A formal arrangement will shield you from them and any other fortune hunters hounding you.”

  “You are suggesting we enter into a sham betrothal?”

  “No, the betrothal will be entirely real. Whether the wedding ever takes place is the question. During our time in France, we can come to know each other better. Just consider, Deverill. After being in close proximity for days or even weeks, we might be ready to murder each other. With a temporary understanding, we can easily call off the betrothal when we return to England.”

  Deverill shook his head in disbelief, although that distinctive look of amusement returned to his eyes. “I won’t change my mind about wanting to wed you,” he assured her.

  “But I may. We have very different priorities. We need to see if there is any hope of us developing a deeper attachment. If you are still of the same mind then as now, there is no point in continuing a betrothal.”

  Sobering, Deverill curled his mouth. “So we are back to the matter of love.”

  “Did you expect otherwise?” When he was silent, Kate searched his face and found only skepticism written there. Determinedly, she made her dozenth effort to explain her deeply held beliefs. “You have made carnal desire the basis of our relationship, Deverill. I want much more in a marriage. Feelings and emotions are more important than any carnal attraction.”

  “For you, perhaps.”

  “That is precisely my point. The very notion of love is merely a game to you. You want to win for the sake of winning, regardless of your personal feelings. Indeed, you use passion as a weapon to render me witless, so you can get your way, whatever that might be. Do you deny it?”

  His expression grew enigmatic. “I have been clear about wanting to free you from your inhibitions.”

  “Ah yes. You want to liberate me from prudishness and blind adherence to conventions. Well, you will have to cease your campaign. I am not willing to jeopardize my reputation for a few moments of illicit passion, even if you are.”

  As if debating his own thoughts, Deverill looked off into the distance, then softly chuckled to himself. “Do you realize how many women would leap at the chance to wed me?”

  Kate smiled reluctantly. “I do. But those are my terms. I understand why they may be too onerous for you.”

  “I suppose,” he said slowly, “there is another advantage to a betrothal. It will lend a measure of propriety to our journey. And we could be alone in the same room without raising eyebrows.”

  “Yes,” Kate agreed, “but we must both behave with more circumspection from now on. As it is, we are courting scandal every time we are together. Our betrothal cannot be only about seduction. You may not care if we are caught in a compromising position, but I do.”

  Glancing back, he aimed his focus intently on her. “If you were compromised, you would have no choice but to marry me.”

  “I will always have a choice,” Kate retorted. “You could never coerce me into marriage. And you should know by now that I don’t respond well to threats.”

  Meeting her gaze steadily, he seemed to realize she was not bluffing, for he smiled imperceptibly and nodded. “I do know. Very well, I agree to your terms.”

  The alacrity of his acceptance surprised her. Kate studied Deverill for a long moment, wondering what he had up his sleeve.

  But he allowed her no more time for reflection. “If that is settled, I propose we move up our voyage to France. It will simplify matters greatly if we set sail next week.”

  “What do you mean?” Kate asked. “Mrs. Cuthbert’s wedding is next week.”

  “We can leave directly afterward.”

  “So soon?”

  “You want the matter of your parents’ fate resolved quickly, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course.” She was very eager to afford them a proper memorial after all these years.

  “And I will be glad to end these damned interminable social rituals,” Deverill said almost cheerfully. “Searching for a shipwreck will be far more interesting. We should begin planning for the trip in earnest. I will arrange a meeting with Macky for tomorrow if possible.”

  Kate pursed her lips in thought. “I will have to advise my uncle Cornelius and aunt Rachel at once if they are to accompany us. I will write to them at Beauvoir first thing in the morning.”

  “Good. Then let us announce our betrothal now.”

  When Deverill took her hand to lead her back to the ballroom, Kate resisted. “Now? Tonight?”

  “It will give notice to the fortune hunters that I am off-limits. And I am not allowing you time to change your mind, either.”

  She didn’t intend to change her mind, Kate thought as she accompanied him from the parlor. And yet when they entered the crowded ballroom a few moments later, a panicky feeling welled in her stomach. A formal announcement in public would make a betrothal to Deverill all too real.

  He made good on his plan, though, and proceeded directly to the orchestra. At the conclusion of the current dance, he commanded the attention of the guests by proclaiming in a proud voice, “Pray, allow me to share my good news. Lady Katharine Wilde has agreed to make me the happiest of men by consenting to be my wife.”

  Immediately the company broke into excited chatter, while Deverill punctuated his announcement by looking deeply into her eyes. Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingers. “I am fortunate to have captured the brightest star in the heavens,” he said softly.

  That tender, intimate expression was for the benefit of the company, Kate knew, yet she wanted so badly for it to be real.

  Tearing her gaze from his, she glanced around her and found the reactions varied. She heard whispers about how romantic Lord Valmere’s declaration was, but she could see that some of the younger ladies were visibly disappointed to have lost London’s most exciting bachelor.

  Maura seemed only a little surprised and, upon joining Kate, embraced her happily. Ash bent to kiss her cheek and murmur in her ear with cynical amusement, “So the preeminent mat
chmaker finally meets her match.”

  On the other hand, Lady Dalton, who had come late to the ball, gave her a malignant glare.

  Kate flashed back a pointed smile of satisfaction. Lady X’s goading had lit a fire under her, although her rival would be incensed to know it. She now intended to pursue Deverill herself.

  Yet it would be the challenge of a lifetime, Kate had no doubt. He wanted a superficial relationship, a marriage of convenience based on mere passion, but she needed to make him want love.

  Kate managed a moment alone with Maura to explain the plan for a trial betrothal and to thank her for her prodding. “You were right. I must be willing to make my own fate and fight for him.”

  Kate then spent the next quarter hour standing by her new fiancé’s side, accepting felicitations and trying to will away the knots in her stomach. Events were moving so quickly, she felt a bit dazed.

  For better or worse, she was now engaged to Brandon Deverill, Baron Valmere. And somehow, some way, she would attempt the daunting task of winning his heart.

  —

  Only after parting ways with the Wildes at the end of the long evening did Brandon acknowledge his keen feeling of satisfaction. He was now engaged to Kate, the first step in securing her hand in marriage.

  Embarking sooner on the journey to France would likely aid in his goal. Different environs would give him better odds of proving their compatibility and allow them more privacy as well, without constantly being in the fishbowl of London society, and without having her entire family to contend with, especially her highly protective older brother.

  It was not an auspicious sign, therefore, when Ash said he would call at Fenton’s Hotel the next morning to discuss the temporary nature of their betrothal over breakfast. But for the time being, Brandon intended to savor his achievement.

  After retiring to bed, he spent the interval before sleep recalling the moment he’d announced his betrothal to Kate—in particular his uncommon sense of pride that she had consented to be his, even if only under strict conditions. She had looked exceptionally striking tonight in a sapphire-blue gown that set off her creamy skin and fiery hair.

  Yet her tantalizing beauty, her feminine grace, her silvery laugh were only a small cause of his possessiveness toward her. He couldn’t help recalling the image of Kate at her most defenseless, when he’d brought her to passion not once but twice in the past several days. The flush suffusing her face, the dazed look in her green eyes…He would do well to forget those sensual memories during a visit from her brother, though.

  When Ash appeared at his hotel room door promptly at nine, he began with a not-so-subtle warning. “I presume you remember that Kate is my sister? I am trusting you to safeguard her during your time in France.”

  “You know I will do my utmost.”

  “It’s surprising that she even consented to a provisional betrothal,” Ash mused. “If I recall your manner toward each other years ago, you sometimes quarreled yourselves into a standstill.”

  “Perhaps that was a large reason I couldn’t forget her during all the time I was away,” Brandon admitted. “In truth, I primarily returned to England in order to claim her.”

  Ash seemed at first relieved, then amused. “You ought not tell her you mean to claim her.”

  “I won’t. I know better than to get her back up.”

  “That’s our Kate, independent to the bone.”

  “I intend to convince her that we make a suitable match. For me, she is the most ideal candidate by far, and I believe I am the same for her.”

  “I suspect so.”

  “Then I have your blessing to wed her?” Brandon asked.

  “Yes. Frankly, I would be grateful if you would,” Ash replied. “Kate is much too alone, especially now that the rest of us have wed. Someone with her nature is not meant to be alone.”

  “Indeed,” Brandon agreed wholeheartedly as he led the way down to the hotel dining room.

  “How do you plan to succeed where so many others have failed?”

  “I hope that finding your parents’ shipwreck will go a long way toward winning her favor.”

  “You already have her favor. It is her heart you must win. I doubt she will marry without love.”

  “So she says.”

  Ash smiled. “As long as you realize what you are up against, you stand a chance. You can count on the family’s assistance if you need it.”

  “Thank you. I very well may call on you.”

  He was under no illusions about the difficulty of his challenge—to change Kate’s mind about mutual love being a condition for their marriage, so that she would accept him just as he was, closed heart and all.

  To that end, he intended to alter his strategy. Passion was not likely to convince her, he’d learned over the past few days. So he would woo Kate as she wanted to be wooed—with “emotions and feelings,” as she was so fond of saying. No more seduction, at least of the physical kind. Instead, he needed to share more of himself, to curb his conquering male instincts and follow her rules of proper behavior for a change.

  It would be a novel approach, pursuing her with the intent of winning her heart rather than only her body. Women had always come easily to him, but he would have to work hard to win Kate. He could also help his case by showing that he belonged in her family, and that he had their support.

  Settling at a breakfast table with her brother, Brandon recalled a long-ago moment when the Wildes were partaking of a picnic by the lake at Beauvoir. Kate was in her element, surrounded by her loved ones, her laugh filled with life and joy.

  She was much more guarded now, and he was largely to blame. He could see through her sophisticated social mask, though. Could sense her vulnerability beneath her confident, independent demeanor.

  He was counting on that vulnerability to aid him when he embarked on a real courtship. If she wanted romance rather than passion, then he would endeavor to provide it.

  To plan for the journey, Brandon set his meeting with Beau Macklin at his cousin Trey’s house that afternoon. It would be a reunion of his former fellow Guardians—almost like old times. Additionally, the location would allow Kate the opportunity to meet another auburn-haired beauty—Trey’s wife, Antonia.

  Macky was already present when Brandon arrived with Kate. Once the introductions were made, Antonia graciously invited them to stay for tea after they finished the business of their visit: Determining the date and details of the voyage, preparing to visit the pauper’s grave where Lady Beaufort was buried, and finally, developing a strategy to deal with the pirates they would likely encounter while attempting to locate the shipwreck. Trey sat in on the discussion to offer his counsel and volunteer his expertise if needed.

  Macky began by reporting the findings of his investigation some months earlier, repeating for Brandon’s benefit his conclusions about Lady Beaufort’s demise and the explosive fire that had occurred on board the ship, the Zephyr, over a dozen years ago upon its attempted return to England. Then he laid out maps of Aquitaine and the southwestern coast of France.

  Watching them pore over the maps together, Kate remarked, “It appears as if you have done this before.”

  Brandon smiled, remembering the many clandestine missions the Guardians had planned while he was a member. “We have.”

  Macky indicated a location on one map. “From what we can surmise, the Zephyr sailed from the river port of Bordeaux, here, heading for the Bay of Biscay. Shortly before reaching the seaport of Royan on the Gironde estuary, the ship was rocked by an explosion and fire. The Zephyr attempted to turn toward shore, then drifted into one of the coves that dot the shoreline where it floundered and sank somewhere near the village of Saint-Georges-de-Didonne, here. Flotsam and debris ended up on the neighboring beaches, but since the incident occurred so long ago, no one I spoke to could identify the exact location of the wreck. Somehow Lady Katharine’s mother survived and washed ashore also, downstream of St. Georges. She is buried here, on the outskirts of Ro
yan.”

  When Kate’s expression grew shadowed, Brandon knew she was contemplating her mother’s sad fate.

  “Additionally, St. Georges is a den for pirates,” Macky continued after a moment. “The inhabitants are mostly poor fishermen, so they augment their incomes by raiding foreign vessels and storing their contraband in the grottoes and caves in the chalk cliffs. But they know every cove and inlet along the coast. They also control the commerce in that area. If you intend to search for a shipwreck, you will have to deal with them. Once you arrive, you could perhaps hire them to search for the site and salvage any sunken treasure.”

  Trey chimed in then. “Can pirates be trusted to turn over any valuables they find? I understand the de Chagny jewels were considered priceless.”

  Macky answered. “That depends on how much supervision you plan to give and how many of the jewels remain.”

  Kate spoke quietly. “Most were already removed by the saboteur before the Zephyr sank, and recovering what remains is secondary to my mind. The jewels belonged to my aunt’s French family who were guillotined during the Revolution, and so hold little personal meaning for me or my family. The only item of personal significance is my father’s signet ring, which no doubt will be impossible to find. It will be enough to properly bury my mother. And if we find the sunken ship, I would like to hold a ceremony to honor the dead, including my father and Aunt Angelique and Uncle Lionel.”

  “Were you able to meet with any of the pirates?” Brandon asked Macky.

  “Yes. Their leader—a man by the name of Jean Louvel—captains a brigantine.”

  “Louvel?” Brandon said sharply. “A large, swarthy man with a scar on his left cheek?”

  “Yes.”

  Brandon frowned. “That might present a problem. I have tangled with him before, in America.”

  Kate gave him a puzzled look. “Do you mean not all French pirates aided the Americans during the war?”

  “Most did, Louvel included. His crew joined our fight against England. But my conflict with him was personal.”