Cassandra frowned. “Whatever for?”
She was met by a do-I-seriously-need-to-explain-it-to-you sort of look that ended with a sigh. “Because if Devlin Crawford is half as persistent as you have described him to be, then I’ll wager he’s on his way here right now.”
Cassandra insisted this wasn’t the case. She told herself repeatedly that only a man in love would behave so rashly. Yes, Devlin might have mistakenly said they would marry, but once he recovered from his blunder and realized she had no intention of going through with an actual wedding, she was sure he’d let the matter go. Of course, it might take a while for people to stop talking about what would now be labeled a broken engagement, but with Devlin away as much as he was, she doubted he’d be troubled by any additional gossip. As a man, it was far more likely he would go on as if none of this foolishness had happened.
It was an uplifting notion, though sadly one she was forced to dismiss the very next morning when she entered the kitchen and found him there, slouched in one of the chairs while his feet rested on another.
Too stunned to think or to deliberate over him being asleep, she blurted the first words to enter her heard with zero finesse. “What do you think you’re doing in my kitchen?”
Devlin started. Uttering a series of short half-finished snores, he opened his eyes and scrambled out of the chair so fast he almost knocked it over. He cleared his throat and shook his head. His hair, Cassandra noted, was mussed while his eyes conveyed the bewilderment of someone who’d woken to unfamiliar surroundings. To her annoyance, there was a sheepishness about him that made him look rather adorable.
She placed both hands on her hips and glared.
“I…um…er…” He pushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. “I came to find you.”
“Well, you’ve done so.” Moving farther into the room, she began collecting the items she needed to start breakfast. “If you’re hungry, I can give you something to eat before you leave.”
“But…” He was silent a moment while she lit the fire and added water to the kettle. “Cass, I came here to talk to you.”
“You needn’t have,” she said, her irritation with him increasing until it began transforming to anger. “My departure from London should have made clear my position on this idiotic scheme of yours.”
“It isn’t exactly a scheme,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.
Lord, how she wanted to wring his neck, although upon further inspection, she wasn’t quite sure she’d be able to get her hands all the way around it. She sighed with frustration and told him plainly, “If you put your boot in your mouth then that’s your problem. Not mine.” Doing her best to pretend he wasn’t standing right there staring at her as if she were the one who’d lost half her brain, Cassandra cracked some eggs into a bowl and proceeded to whisk them with great ferocity.
“I’m sorry,” he said once the eggs were cooking on a pan alongside some bacon. “I shouldn’t have said what I did, but Lady DeVries made me so bloody furious.” He blew out a heavy breath. “She insulted you, Cass, and I couldn’t let it pass.”
It was difficult not to sympathize a little when his intensions had been so noble, but it didn’t make his actions any less damning. “So,” she said, waving a spatula in his direction, “rather than simply arguing her point or offering a clever retort, you decided to head for the altar?”
“Offering my protection seemed like the best way to make the horrid woman shut up.” His eyes bore into hers with the intensity of a man who’d ridden into battle for her and lived to tell about it. “I respect you too much to let anyone tarnish your name, Cass, and…now that I’ve had a few days to think matters through, I’ve concluded that getting married might not be so terrible.”
A half strangled choking sound escaped her. Just when she thought he was starting to sound sensible, he went and ruined it with more foolish words. “Then I wish you luck finding a bride, Devlin, because—”
“I know it’s a big decision.” He took a step closer to where she stood, causing her to turn away and start slicing a loaf of bread. “Getting married was never part of my plan either, but the thing of it is, I like you and…I hope you don’t take offense to me saying this, but I do consider you a friend and as such, I’d like to help.”
The knife came down a hair’s breadth away from her finger. “Help? How is springing a surprise engagement on me helping? How is having my name emblazoned on the front page of The Mayfair Chronicle with words like ‘spinster’ and ‘scandal’ immediately beneath it helpful? How is—”
“It’s not just about you, Cass,” Devlin murmured.
His voice was whisper quiet – frighteningly so – for it made her feel like an axe was about to come crashing down over her head. “What are you saying?”
“There’s also Penelope to consider.”
Cassandra gripped the breadknife while the blood flowing through her veins turned to ice. She was half tempted to go for Devlin’s throat. Instead she held herself utterly still and forced back the tears now pricking her eyes. “Get out.”
“Ca—”
“I said,” she told him more firmly while taking a step in his direction. “Get. Out!”
“Cassandra, is everything all right?” Katherine’s gentle voice was a stark contrast to Cassandra’s trembling nerves.
Swallowing, she glanced toward the doorway where her friend stood and shook her head. “We have an uninvited guest,” she gritted.
“I can see that,” Katherine said with exasperating slowness. “You must be Lord Devlin.”
Devlin smiled with a sickening amount of charm and executed a gracious bow. “At your service, Miss…”
Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Lady Katherine Donahugh.”
“Enchanted,” he murmured, his attention solely on Katherine, whose cheeks immediately turned a bright shade of pink. And then she giggled – giggled! – like a young girl who’d just received a posy from the boy she fancied. It was enough to make Cassandra gag.
“You should have told me how handsome he is,” Katherine said without any attempt at lowering her voice.
Cassandra coughed and instantly went back to tending the eggs and bacon which were close to being done. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” she grumbled.
“What was that?” Devlin asked.
“She says she mentioned it,” Katharine chirped.
Cassandra spun around and came face to face with her friend, whose raised eyebrows and cheeky smile informed Cassandra that getting rid of Devlin would be no simple matter.
“Did she indeed?” he asked with a grin so bright it made Cassandra’s mind go blank for a second.
“No,” she exclaimed. “I would never think to do so.” She waved her hand toward him as if he were some sort of mess in need of tidying. “Not when I’ve always considered your brothers to be better looking.”
He pressed his lips together. A curious light danced in his eyes, causing them to sparkle. Cassandra couldn’t look away. She knew what she’d said was a lie about his looks, but she wasn’t feeling very charitable at the moment and certainly didn’t want him to realize she found him attractive. Lord knew that would only make him think she might be swayed in her decision.
“You do realize we’re triplets,” he said. “Identical triplets,” he added for increased clarity.
Cassandra ground her teeth and nodded. “Yes.”
And then, for some ridiculous reason most likely born from a stubborn need to be right – to win this silly argument – she said, “Though there are differences. Slight ones perhaps, but noticeable enough to anyone who knows the three of you well enough.”
“I suppose Griffin’s scar does set him apart, doesn’t it?” Devlin murmured. “And Caleb has that dimple at the left side of his mouth.
“While you,” she began, then quickly stopped herself. Smiling tightly, she sniffed and went to collect some plates.
“I can do that,” Katherine said, beating her to the cupboard. “Why don
’t you pour Lord Devlin a cup of tea instead?”
“While I what?” he asked. He raised one eyebrow and pinned her with a look of interest that did something funny to her stomach.
“Nothing,” she said. Averting her gaze, she tried to focus on the kettle, the teapot, and the cups the tea was meant to go into.
“Even so, I’d still like to hear it.”
“Hear what?” Penelope asked, making her entrance with Rosemary and three younger children named William, Clyde, and Henry. Cassandra groaned.
“Your mother’s opinion on what distinguishes me from my brothers,” Devlin said as he went to give Penelope a hug.
For a moment, Cassandra forgot all about her annoyance with him. The affection he showed toward Penelope and the other children was both heartwarming and…enticing? She shook her head in bemusement, though not without noting the knowing look Katherine gave her.
“Oh, I can give you the answer you need.” Penelope smiled up at Devlin as if he were some Greek god about to fulfill her every wish. “It’s your nose and your hair.”
Cassandra gulped. “Breakfast is ready,” she announced and then hastily went about making sure all the children washed their hands. “Sofia and Jamie are missing. Perhaps—”
“I’ll fetch them,” Penelope said.
“And I’ll take this tray to the dining room if you bring the eggs and bacon, Cass, and Lord Devlin agrees to carry the teapot.”
“I’d be happy to,” he said.
Deciding their battle would have to be put on hold while they ate, Cassandra did as Katherine suggested and picked up the dish filled with eggs and bacon. Although she avoided looking directly at Devlin, the heat of his gaze scorched the back of her neck as he followed her out of the kitchen.
Devlin had known he would not be welcomed with open arms when he arrived at Clearview. What he hadn’t anticipated was how amusing it would be to see Cassandra, who was ordinarily so composed, lose her temper. Because of him.
While his brain had told him he ought to be insulted by some of the things she’d said and the way she’d said them, he’d also been strangely pleased by her reaction. It meant he was able to get a fiery response out of her, which wasn’t the worst thing a man could incite in a woman. Least of all in one as desirable as she.
Rogue that he was, he made no effort to stop himself from admiring the sway of her hips or the alluring way her muslin gown moved over her backside as she walked. She was, after all, to be his wife, even if she’d not yet agreed. But she would. Of that he was certain. Because he had every intention of doing his utmost in order to convince her. Funny thing that, he reflected as he took his seat at the table. Four days ago he’d been completely opposed to marriage. Now there was no longer any doubt he wanted to be a husband – Cassandra’s husband. Not after weighing all of the pros and cons during his ride to Clearview.
“I didn’t know you had returned to England, Devlin,” Penelope said with the familiarity of a child who’d known him so long she treated him like a blood relation. He liked that. “Did you, Mama?”
Cassandra kept her gaze carefully averted from Devlin’s while helping Katherine serve the food. “Yes,” she said. “I was aware.”
“And you chose not to tell me,” Penelope said with a hint of accusation in her young voice.
“Maybe it was supposed to be a secret,” Rosemary said.
William, Clyde, and Henry all nodded. Sarah took a big gulp of milk from her glass, her large round eyes fixed on Devlin in an almost disconcerting sort of way. Jamie, the oldest of the boys, proceeded to wolf down his food with the gusto of a growing youth.
Penelope scrunched her nose in thought. She watched her mother pour tea and waited until she’d filled Devlin’s cup before saying, “I find it odd that you would come here without your brothers. I mean, what could possibly be your incentive?”
“Perhaps he longs for a peaceful sojourn in the country,” Cassandra suggested.
Penelope’s fork stabbed at a piece of egg and then made its way to her mouth. She chewed. Her eyes narrowed with the sort of unrelenting inquisitiveness only a child can possess. And then she asked, “Why have you come to Clearview, Devlin?”
He smiled at her. This twelve-year-old girl had just given him the perfect opportunity to swing things in his favor. Penelope had always seemed to like him, and over the years he’d become quite fond of her. So with this in mind, he ignored Cassandra. He didn’t have to look at her to know she was silently begging him to keep quiet.
Instead, he directed all of his focus at Penelope and said, “Why, to ask your mother to marry me, of course.”
A clatter came from Cassandra’s vicinity, along with some guttural utterance that wasn’t the least bit feminine. He chuckled inwardly. If he listened hard enough, he’d probably be able to hear her grinding her teeth. And if he dared glance her way…
For the sake of self-preservation he avoided doing so, his attention fixed solely upon Penelope, whose lips were stretching into the widest smile he’d ever seen. His heart thumped with excitement.
“That is the best thing I’ve ever heard,” Penelope said. “Oh, Mama, you must say yes, you simply—”
“Stop it,” Cassandra snapped. Everyone stilled. Penelope’s mouth moved but no words escaped. Eventually, she dropped her gaze to her food.
Katherine cleared her throat. “Go ahead and eat,” she told the children gently.
Spurred into motion at the sound of her voice, the youngsters resumed eating; forks and knives began to scrape across plates. Chewing noises followed, only occasionally interspersed by the soft gurgling sounds produced whenever someone took a sip of milk or tea.
Between two bites of toast, Devlin hazarded a look at Cassandra. She appeared to be staring at the opposite edge of the table with eyes that seemed to see too much without seeing anything at all. Jaw tight, she ate with mechanical movements, her mind clearly preoccupied by an intricate puzzle, like figuring out how to kill him and get away with it.
He considered the sweep of her jawline, the angle at which it connected with her ear, and the elegant slope of her nose. Her lips, wide and full, were a bold shade of pink - an unusually bright color for anyone to have naturally and, Devlin reflected, deserving the envy of every pale-lipped woman in England.
It was curious really. He’d known Cassandra for years and during that time he’d recognized she was comely - the sort of woman who could easily stir his desire. He’d sensed an attraction, at least on his part, but he’d never taken the time to figure out what it was based on.
Now, looking at her, he saw she was more than a family friend whom he’d gotten used to, and certainly more than pleasant to look at. She was, in fact, stunning, and while her mouth was set in a rigid line at the moment, Devlin could not stop from imagining what it might be like to kiss it.
Which was yet another reason to marry, he mused.
Slowly, he took a sip of his tea. It was wonderfully hot and soothing. It also allowed him a brief moment of reflection in which to decide on the best strategy. He needed to get Cassandra alone so they could talk, and since gaining her compliance would likely be easier with witnesses present, he took one more sip of tea and said, “Perhaps the two of us can go for a walk after breakfast and discuss the matter?”
She turned her head very slowly and speared him with the sharpest stare he’d ever been subjected to. “As far as I am concerned, there is nothing to discuss. So please stop trying to force an issue in which I have no interest in playing a part.”
Devlin took another bite of his toast and chewed on it while wondering how to proceed from here. Some men, he mused, might give up at this point. Few would bother trying to convince a woman as stubborn as Cassandra. Especially since he hadn’t wanted to get married either until he’d learned she’d run off.
Apparently, her attempt to escape him and then try to send him packing had made him all the more determined to gain her agreement. Sneaking a peek at her while he mulled this over, he figure
d his own bull-headed nature must be to blame. Because the more she resisted, the more he wanted to win this strange battle of wills. Hell, it was almost a matter of pride at this point.
That, and the fact that he’d started to ponder the benefits of having her as his wife. He allowed himself a smug smile. If she kissed and made love with the same kind of passion she argued, then he’d be a fortunate man indeed.
“I think you should listen to what Devlin has to say.”
Devlin blinked. Penelope had spoken softly and yet so deliberately, it was impossible not to pay attention.
“Penelope,” Cassandra murmured. “This isn’t an appropriate subject of conversation for us to have at the table.”
“Maybe not,” Penelope grumbled, “but that doesn’t make my point any less valid.”
“I agree,” James said, in response to which the rest of the children nodded like tiny members of parliament giving their opinions.
Cassandra sighed while Devlin did his best to hide the smile forming on his face. “Be that as it may, my position on the matter is firm.”
“You say that as if this is all about you and what you want when—”
“Enough, Penelope.” Cassandra’s words sliced the air. Her daughter’s mouth transformed into a tight line.
“Perhaps we should try to fly the kites after breakfast,” Katherine suggested.
“You had a father,” Penelope told her mother while jutting her chin up and straightening her back. “He might not have been a very good one, but I’m sure he was better than nothing at all.” She shoved back her chair and stood, eyes shimmering with the threat of tears, her face a deep shade of red.
Devlin had to admire her perseverance and her courage. To stand up against a parent so publically when one had been raised in a world built on manners and etiquette required some serious resolve. Curious to see Cassandra’s reaction, he returned his attention to her and saw she’d gone horribly pale. His heart stuttered slightly and his stomach made an uncomfortable dive. Penelope’s words had clearly hurt her, and as much as Devlin appreciated having the girl as an ally, he could not let that pass.
Her Seafaring Scoundrel Page 5
