To Catch A Fallen Spy (Brethren of the Coast Book 8) (12 page)

“Must confess I have thought of nothing else since the hurtful events of this morning, which I regret more than I can say.” Did he have to be so bloody polite? When he leaned near, she inhaled his signature sandalwood scent, and gooseflesh covered her from head to toe. “You must know how terrible I feel about what happened.”

“This is neither the time nor the place to discuss it.” Yet she would give anything to enact a row. “But I am sorry you are obliged to offer for my hand, in light of your disingenuous courtship.” No, she could not resist reminding him of his slight. “Whatever happens, I pledge to do credit to your good name.”

“My dear, you have it backwards.” How his baritone worked on her nerves, calming the frayed edges. “Your mere acceptance of my proposal does me a great honor, and I can only hope to deserve you.”

At that point, she met his stare, and what she spied in his amber gaze shook her to her core, but fear gnawed at her confidence. “I know not how to believe you.”

“Just give me a chance to make amends.” Ross twined his fingers in hers. “That is all I ask.”

“Excuse me, everyone.” Lance tapped a spoon to his wine glass, and the family quieted. “I suppose you have some idea why Cara and I convened you.”

“Given Logan’s presence, it is not difficult to guess.” Blake rested an arm along the back of Lenore’s chair and snorted. “Just stem the tide and give us the date and time.”

A chorus of concurrence erupted, and Lance rolled his eyes. “Oh, all right. Elaine and Ross are to wed, Thursday next, in the afternoon, here at Raynesford House.”

Another rousing cheer rocked the chamber, and the Brethren wives hauled Elaine from her seat.

“I am so thrilled for you.” Sabrina sniffed.

“What wonderful news.” Alex hugged Elaine and whispered, “I knew it would work out for you.”

“I wish you great joy.” Caroline kissed Elaine’s cheek. “And I know you will be a marvelous couple.”

At her side, the Nautionnier Knights converged on Ross, and they had some painfully familiar sentiments to express, which harkened to the night of Harris’s murder.

“Congratulations, Ross.” Dalton scored the first hit. “Even though you had no such understanding with Lady Elaine.”

“Indeed, it is a fortuitous development.” Everett chucked Ross on the arm. “Given you had no intention of taking a wife.”

“And you seem remarkably fit.” In an uncharacteristic show of dramatic flair, Jason hugged Ross. “As it is clear you opted for beaten, battered, and bruised.”

“But it remains to be seen if he is wiser.” George shared a vigorous handshake with her husband-to-be. “As he gave us his word as a knight in His Majesty’s service that there was nothing between him and Elaine.”

In that instant, Elaine faltered, and tears threatened to reveal that all was not as it appeared. While her future spouse remained stoic, she wanted to scream.

“Ladies, let us repair to the drawing room and tea and leave the men to their brandy and cigars.” Rebecca, always so intuitive, ushered Elaine into the hall. In a low voice, she said, “Whatever you do, do not cry, as our husbands will skewer Ross.”

Perhaps that would shake the man loose, as Elaine struggled with unwelcome uncertainty in the wake of his relaxed demeanor. Ever since she was a child, she dreamed of a love match, with all its messy entanglements. As she grew, and her friends took spouses, she passed her days on the periphery, fantasizing of her own knight in shining armor.

Unknown combat had rendered Ross’s armor tattered and worn, and she knew not how to heal his invisible wounds. Yet she resolved to try, but she nursed injuries of her own.

“All right, we are alone.” Sabrina closed the doors. “Now, tell us everything.”

“There is not much to share.” Elaine shrugged and sat on the sofa. “As everyone is aware, Ross and I dallied in the Netherton’s garden, Miranda Hogart and Archibald Kleinfeld happened upon the scene at an unfortunate moment, and Lance threatened to kill Ross if he did not marry me.”

“That is a given.” Cradling her round belly, Lenore eased into an overstuffed chair and rested her feet on an ottoman. “But are you amenable to a forced union? According to Blake, all Brethren wed for love. Has Ross declared himself?”

“Therein lies the rub.” And Elaine burst into tears.

Although she had achieved part of her goal, the most important aspect loomed beyond reach.

“Oh, no.” Caroline plopped beside Elaine. “Do you not recall that Trevor did not profess his undying affection until after Cavalier kidnapped and tried to kill me? But I do not think Ross will require anything so dramatic to inspire him.”

“Well, if we are comparing marital disasters, do not forget that I took my vows under extreme distress, while heavily pregnant with twins.” Reclining on the
chaise
, Alex fanned herself. “Months later, Jason revealed his true feelings, when I became ill, and he feared I might die. But it was naught but a case of milk fever.”

“And Dalton did not make his stand until I was shot.” With a fist pressed to her bosom, Daphne sighed. “It was so romantic, as he wept.”

“Wonderful.” Elaine pondered their points and daubed her nose with a handkerchief. “I need only to suffer a violent kidnapping, a near-fatal illness, or a potentially mortal wound to gain Ross’s heart.”

“Let us hope not.” At the card table, Lady Amanda shuffled a deck, and the dowagers nodded in agreement.

“Given the male tendency toward utter ignorance when it comes to their emotions, we should probably pray it does not come to that.” As Banks rolled in the tea trolley, Lenore waved for a cup. “Does Ross still suspect a villain pursues us on Waddlington’s behalf? I ask because Blake forbade me to go out without two armed footmen, even though I am skeptical of the danger, but you could manipulate Ross’s fears to your advantage.”

“I could never do that to him and live with myself.” As the ladies collected refreshments, Elaine stood. “If you will excuse me, I could benefit from a bit of fresh air.”

“Elaine, wait.” With a furrowed brow, Lenore clutched her throat. “My apologies if I offended you. I did not mean to suggest you behave in a nefarious manner with Ross. Rather, Blake is so attentive when he worries, and I indulge him in those fretful moments, such that what could be construed as detrimental serves a noble purpose, in the end, as his concern brings us closer together.”

“I understood what you recommended, Lenore, so no apologies necessary.” Elaine mustered a smile, even as the room seemed to collapse upon her. “I will return, shortly.”

In the hall, she peered left and then right and then steered toward the foyer. To her surprise, sitting at the foot of the grand staircase was Ross, and he leaped upright when he spotted her.

Face to face, they squared off as two opponents on the battlefield—until Ross splayed his hands. In the past, when he adopted that stance, she always ran into his embrace, because he, alone, extended the comfort she sought. But that was a different time, unmarred by anxiety, indecision, and betrayal, and she hesitated.

She wanted to run but at or from him, she knew not.

At last, he flicked his fingers. “Please.”

That petition was the only one she could not resist, and she charged headlong into his arms. No matter what transpired between them, she found reassurance and solace in the warmth of his body, and it had been too long since he held her. When laughter erupted from the drawing room, she retreated, grabbed his wrist, and dragged him to the gallery.

For quiet reflection, a two-seater bench had been tucked behind a bronze tympanum, the work of the great Italian sculptor Benvenuto Cellini. The little hideaway often sheltered Elaine, but never had she deployed the refuge to conceal a beau.

“I must pose a question, and I need your promise to answer with complete honesty, regardless of how your response might hurt me.” Ross dipped his chin, and she inhaled a deep breath. “If you never intended to court me, in truth, or propose, why did you kiss me in the Netherton’s garden?”

“If memory serves, you instigated our tryst.” When she sobbed, Ross flinched and cupped her cheek. “But I fell under your spell with that small taste of your dream, and in that instant it became mine, too.” All right, he could live. “I have seen so much ugliness in this world that the beauty you manifest tempts me beyond control or reason, and I am drawn to you.”

“And what of our engagement?” Hope glimmered on the horizon, and she clung to it. “Or was that just a fleeting fantasy you never intended to realize?”

“My offer is genuine.” To her amazement, he drew a tiny box from his coat pocket. Inside, on a bed of pristine cotton, rested a diamond and sapphire betrothal ring. “I had this fashioned to compliment the bracelet, and its gratifies me that you chose to wear it tonight.” Then Ross did something she never would have envisioned, even in her most absurd wool gathering. Kneeling before her, he took her hand in his and slipped the jewel on her finger. “My dear Lady Elaine, a most unworthy servant humbly asks you to marry him.”

“Yes.” When their lips met, the pain of the day vanished—and was quickly replaced by sheer panic, as Lance and Cara sprinted into the gallery.

“Hurry.” Lance swept his wife into the first guestroom off the main passage and slammed shut the door.

As Elaine and Ross crouched behind the sculpture, a repetitive drumbeat against the oak panel coupled with a series of muffled cries and groans of unmistakable ecstasy, which all but announced the impromptu mating dance. When she met her fiancé’s stare, he compressed his lips, but his expression betrayed his amusement, and she barely stifled a snort of laughter.

“Should we make our escape?” Ross inquired.

“No.” She pulled him close and claimed a quick kiss. “If history is any indication, they will resurface shortly.”

And no sooner than she had spoken, the lover’s singsong reached a crescendo, and then silence fell on the chamber. Minutes later, Lance and Cara emerged, but he halted her just steps from Elaine’s sanctuary.

“Am I forgiven, sugar kisses?” Her cousin buried his face in the curve of Cara’s neck.

“Of course.” Cara drew Lance to her, and they shared another thorough exchange, which brought the burn of a blush to Elaine’s cheeks. “You are now and always my hero, and I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Now Lance caressed Cara’s bottom, through her gown, and Elaine and Ross ducked behind the tympanum. “And I am going to ride you into sweet oblivion, when we retire.”

Elaine gazed at Ross, and he blinked.

“Promises, promises.” Cara giggled, and she descended the stairs with her husband.

It was then that Ross returned to the bench and pulled Elaine into his lap. Caressing her jaw, he covered her mouth with his. Theirs was not the heated, passionate, aggressive display in the same temperament of her relations, but it was something. It was a beginning. Surrendering to his tender desire, she vowed one day that Ross would drag her into the nearest accommodation to have his wicked way with her.

#

After a whirlwind courtship consisting of countless social engagements, which tested him worse than the most brutal torture, Ross partook of one last Promenade before his wedding. With Elaine safely anchored at his side, he scanned the crowd, on watch for the slightest bit of provocation as they strolled in the rotation, nodding acknowledgements to various notables. In strategic locales, his agents lingered, and Ross carried a pair of pistols on his person.

“Will you please relax and smile?” Elaine wrenched his arm. “No one will believe you are a besotted fiancé if you continue to brood.”

Gowned in a rose-colored creation, with a matching bonnet that complimented the charming blush in her cheeks, his lady captured the attention of numerous bachelors bent on mischief, and even when he paused to permit her a bit of conversation with the occasional importuning gossipmonger, he refused to yield his place. “I do not like the look of that dandy.”

“Who?” To his smug satisfaction, she blinked, impervious to her attraction. “Lord DeWinter? But he is harmless.”

“He loitered too long, when he kissed your hand.” And Ross cared not for the man’s age. “And why did he insist on standing so close?”

“Ross, he is three and seventy, a widower who loved his wife, and deaf in one ear.” With a giggle, she elbowed his ribs. “Are you jealous?”

“I most certainly am not.” He lied. “I am on alert for any sign of trouble.”

“And you are jealous,” she proclaimed, with a smirk.

“If you insist on making such ridiculous assumptions, then I am not going to waste my time trying to argue the point.” With that, he settled her palm in the crook of his arm, confident of his ability to defend against any would-be assailant.

“Do you recall the night we met?” Well, perhaps she found the chink in his armor, because she distracted him.

“Indeed.” Ah, the cherished reveries, which he revisited on frequent occasions, filled his brain. “We were at Howard Hall, during Rebecca’s last mission, and I required an excuse to join your family at the ball.”

“You danced with Lady Moreton, and I wanted to scratch out her eyes.” At her admission, he clenched his gut, as he adored his fiery society miss.

“My dear, you have nothing to worry about, on that account, as I remember naught about her.” And that was a gross understatement. In a flash, an image of Elaine commanded his senses. “But even now I can envision you in your pale pink confection, with your hair coiffed in loose curls, and a cameo at your throat.”

“But you scarcely noticed me.” Not for a minute could he permit her to labor under such misapprehension, especially when she frowned. “In fact, I startled you, when I approached from behind.”

“I gave the appearance that you startled me.” He chuckled, as he reminisced of so many exchanges over the past few years. “In truth, I have always known you were there. Do you recollect your come-out?”

“Of course.” Now she scowled, and he fought the urge to kiss her. “But I would rather forget it.”

“The event was at the Richmond’s, and I was on assignment.” Once again, he transported back in time, to another place. “No one partnered you, except the Brethren, and you spent hours hiding behind a large plaster bust of Sir Isaac Newton.”