“And what would you have of me?” Alex peered over her shoulder and shrugged. “You already have my dowry.”
“The money is deposited for our babes, and there it will remain. But you know my favorite coin, where you are concerned.” Jason cast her a lazy smile. “And as for your daily remittance, that, my devoted wife, shall depend on my mood. Yet our awkward concordat, of sorts, shall serve both our purposes, as I submit there is no better way to highlight the benefits of marriage for a prospective groom, as even I had not foreseen the unrivaled advantages of matrimony, in that respect. So, do we or do we not have an arrangement?”
“I agree,” Alex responded without hesitation.
“You know, you truly are smarter than you look.” Everett snickered. “And I prefer those terms. What say you, my most unlikely lady?”
“Done.” Brie dipped her chin.
Before Trevor could broach the question, Caroline pinned him with her stare and said, “I accept.”
“I suppose you have no objections?” Lance studied Cara’s huge belly. “Excepting your current condition?”
“None, whatsoever, my hero.” Cara giggled. “We may delay your reimbursements, until I have given birth and healed, as our pact may enable us to conceive a second child.”
Daphne could have danced a jig, as everything had fallen into place. Then she realized a lone individual had not entered the collective, and she gazed at Dirk and Rebecca. Would Dalton’s elder brother upend Daphne’s plan? Had he deemed her unsuitable?
“You are awfully quiet, Dirk.” Rebecca nudged him. “Have you any complaints regarding our accord?”
“No, darling.” Yet something appeared amiss, as Dirk trailed a finger along Becca’s nose. Was it Daphne’s imagination, or did he seem melancholy? “As ever, I am at your service, and I demand no remuneration.”
“You are so wonderful, and I shall express my appreciation of your efforts, every day, regardless.” Rebecca slid from his lap. “Now then, we need you to emphasize the joys of wedded bliss, whenever Dalton is present.”
“Tell him how you wake, every morning, thrilled to be married.” Sabrina toyed with Everett’s cravat. “Explain that you could not envision your future without your wife.”
“In other words, you want us to be ourselves, as I am nothing without my rebellious countess.” Everett, the epitome of a suave rake, excepting his unmasked love of his mate, wound a lock of Brie’s hair about a finger and gave her a gentle tug. “And I wonder if I might persuade you to come home with me, now, and forgo Rebecca’s luncheon?”
“Scandalous, my naughty lord.” Sabrina’s half-baked attempt at reproach had not fooled Daphne. “But I am hungry, and so is the babe that grows inside me. Would you neglect us?”
“Oh, I will feed you, sweetheart. With my own hands, I shall indulge you.” At that instant, Everett scooted to the edge of his seat and then stood, with Sabrina ensconced in his arms. “Besides, I am eager to collect my reward.”
“As am I.” Clutching Alex, Jason mirrored Everett’s stance. “Come away with me, love.”
“But you have done nothing to merit an exchange.” Alex squealed, as Jason nuzzled her neck and growled. “Captain of my heart, you are insatiable.”
“Always, where my gorgeous wife is concerned.” Jason followed Everett into the hall, with Caroline, Trevor, Cara, Lance, Rebecca, Dirk, and Daphne in the rear. “And like Markham, I shall guard your health and welfare, with my life. But I submit that, as my participation in your plot begins immediately, then so, too, must my recompense.”
In the foyer, Hughes set wide the oak panels and then conveyed the appropriate coats and pelisses to their respective owners. Outside, liveried footmen scattered to provide assistance, as Trevor ushered Caroline into their rig. Lance lifted Cara into their sumptuous equipage and waved, as they departed. Everett hugged Sabrina in his lap, as he eased to the squabs, which left a single couple preparing to decamp the unusual assembly.
“To the park, and make the rotation, until I order otherwise.” Jason directed the driver and then waggled his brows. “Up you go, sweetheart. And draw the shades.”
Alex obeyed his command but cast Daphne and Rebecca a mischievous grin and sketched a mock salute before lowering the last blind, when Jason slammed shut the door. Just as the driver was about to flick the reins, the coach pitched and rolled, a feminine shriek pierced the calm, and Rebecca laughed.
“Oh, dear.” Daphne jumped. “Will she be all right?”
“No worries.” Rebecca elbowed Daphne. “Alex knows well her husband’s appetite, and she imparted prior to our meeting that she wore something provocative beneath her gown, to inspire him for such an occasion. And I believe he will satisfy her.”
#
As Dalton strolled into White’s, he shuddered for some odd reason he could not comprehend, which had become an annoying and frequent occurrence, since meeting Daphne. Amid the leather wall coverings, the plush high back chairs, the various décor that bespoke masculine domination, the glasses filled with expensive brandy, and the pungent aroma of cigar smoke, the powerful male elites of London society shared ribald tales of their latest conquests, boasted of their familial connections and fortune, and detailed their most recent financial or military achievements. In short, the elegant establishment had been built for liars.
How ironic it was that he had arrived at the prearranged time to confess his sins, seek absolution, and discuss the prospect of marrying Daphne. In a private room, his brothers had gathered, and a lone vacant seat beckoned, when he made his presence known.
“And there he is, the source of so much intrigue.” Shaking his head, Blake compressed his lips. “What have you done now?”
“I would like to know how you could possibly best your last escapade.” Damian narrowed his stare and frowned. “When you were found half-naked, and I reference the lower half, and three sheets to the wind, wandering the Heath near the Highgate ladies’ bathing pond, with no inkling of how you came to be there.”
“At least, that was your story.” Lance rolled his eyes and snorted in unveiled skepticism. “Though I suspect otherwise, as I have heard tales of a certain young widow’s licentious proclivities with a respectable viscount’s drunken sibling.”
“Please tell me you are too wise to involve yourself beyond a simple one-night tryst with Lady Moreton.” Everett peered at Trevor and whistled in monotone. “That rum doxy almost cost me my chance with Sabrina.”
“She has wrecked more marriages than du Barry.” Leaning forward, Trevor planted forearms to thighs. “It is my understanding she is no longer welcome in several of the ton’s good homes.”
“During our courtship, my Alex nearly took off my head, when I did nothing more than ask Lady Moreton to dance, at the Northcote’s ball.” Jason winced. “Henceforth, I endeavor to avoid even a haphazard glance at that sparrow-mouthed wench.”
“And yet you embroiled yourself in her corrupt artifices.” It was a statement, not a question, which Dirk declared with unimpaired equanimity, and Dalton ached to protest, but he could not. “I much preferred your immature antics, like the night you hid beneath the bed in my bachelor lodgings, while I docked in Lady Spencer’s harbor.”
“I never knew you stirred her waters.” Blake raised his crystal balloon in toast. “I am impressed.”
“It is not a topic for discussion, in deference to my wife.” Crossing his legs, Dirk gazed at the floor. “And I would not insult Rebecca by spreading carnal canards, which occurred before we met, as nothing signifies prior to my nuptials. So, why are we here?”
The center of attention, Dalton had benefitted from the spontaneous chatter, as it had allowed him the opportunity to gather his thoughts. But the awful truth was there existed no possible evasion, and he had to warn his family of the dangers of his making.
“Do you recall our successful supply runs just before the Battle of St. Pierre, last December?” Dalton inquired.
“When you took that French frigate a pri
ze?” Damian reclined and sighed. “How could we forget, as you crowed for a sennight?”
That comment gave Dalton pause, as he had not realized he had exhibited such appalling manners. Cursed with uncharacteristic embarrassment, he wondered if he had a right to wed Daphne.
“As I was saying, we had much to celebrate, when we returned to England, and I admit I indulged in more than my fair share of liquid gratification.” How he dreaded imparting the salient points of his err in judgment. “In the ensuing festivities, I ventured to Lady Darrow’s, where I joined forces with Lady Moreton and Lord Sheldon.”
“You did what?” Trevor choked on his brandy. “Are you out of your mind? That bastard has been trying to bring down our family ever since Caroline snubbed him.”
“You drank too much.” Dirk bared his teeth. “It is always the same with you. Do you take responsibility for nothing? Will you not be satisfied until you destroy our good name?”
“I deserve that and more, because I have not apprised you of the worst of it.” With a deep breath, he braced himself. “You see Sheldon possessed a foreign substance, of some sort, which he indicated would increase arousal and pleasure, and he gave Lady Moreton and I a portion, which we consumed in our drinks. The concoction left me at sixes and sevens, and I scarcely know how we came to be at my bachelor lodgings. In my residence, we engaged in an ménage à trois. To my everlasting shame, I took Lady Moreton, hard and fast, and docked in every orifice the bawdy widow possesses, even as Sheldon used her.”
And so it was done.
Tension weighed heavy, as each man avoided his gaze, and Dalton had never felt more alone in his life. While he had disappointed himself, he had injured his familial alliances, and that truly hurt. Never before had he regretted his juvenile pursuits, because he had born the repercussions, exclusively.
“What is the matter with you?” Dirk scoffed, just as Dalton had anticipated. “You were loved, you were tended as befits a prince, and you have been given every advantage. Is this how you thank mama and honor our father’s memory? And if you care nothing for our parents, what of my wife, my daughter, and my unborn child? What have they done to you, that you would embroil them in such a nasty scandal, because you know, very well, Sheldon will out you, and we will all suffer the consequences.”
“I am sorry, brother.” Slumped forward, Dalton rested elbows to knees and cupped his chin in his hands. “I know not why I do the things I do.” But that was a lie.
“I believe I have the answer to the mystery.” After signaling for a refill, Everett stretched his legs and shifted in his seat. “You have persisted in the shadow of a titled sibling.”
And in that moment, Trevor’s childhood chum reduced Dalton’s never-ending agony to a single pedestrian sentence.
“Oh, come now—”
“Bear with me, Dirk. As I know something of the situation, given my history.” Everett pointed for emphasis. “Although your sire may have loved you with equal enthusiasm, the population, as a whole, treats second sons with open disdain, and no one knows the hardship like one who survived it.”
“You seek to excuse his antics?” Dirk asked, with unmistakable disgust. “You would acquit him of his offense?”
“No, not excuse or acquit.” When the waiter brought a fresh glass, Everett gazed into the amber liquid and furrowed his brow. “My intent is to help you apprehend his difficulties, which have plagued his existence from birth, given he wears his deficiency as a mark on his forehead, and people do not see him but for you. In your absence, Dalton functions as a non-entity. He would do better as a manservant, as society would at least deem him necessary, in some respects. So Dalton resorts to capricious capers and wild stunts, which increased in intensity, as he grew older, if only to force the ton to acknowledge his presence.”
“Gentlemen, I fear I am going to vomit.” Wiping his eyes, Dalton inhaled and exhaled, as the room seemed to spin out of control, and excruciating memories flashed a brief but concise inventory of his youth, adolescence, and adulthood. All of a sudden, the Brethren—save Dirk and Everett, retreated, scooting their chairs beyond the danger.
“Easy, brother. It will pass.” Dirk patted Dalton on the back. “Is Everett correct? Is this how you have felt, all these years?”
“Yes.” Somehow, Dalton had expected great relief, having his long-held secret recognized. Instead, a new form of torment weighed heavy on his heart and mind.
“Like you, I spent countless hours devising ways to garner attention, as I was so often overlooked, in favor of Charles. I studied hard, excelled at university, expended extra effort in service to the Crown, amassed a personal fortune Croesus would envy, and yet my lack of rank defined my worth.” Everett compressed his lips. “And I hate myself for admitting it, but I’d wager you know my ignominy.”
“Aye.” In a flash, Dalton met Everett’s stare. “And the torture.”
“But I have always protected Dalton.” Dirk smacked a fist to a palm. “And I have never mistreated him.”
“You do not have to, because society does it for you. Did you know that prior to Charles’s demise, the only women who ever approached me were those seeking either a night of passion or access to the heir—with a lone exception.” With a ghost of a smile, Everett chuckled. “Sabrina is my salvation. My most unlikely lady wanted me, however she could get me. And I am so grateful for her, as I would be a lonely, miserable, and jaded earl, without my wife and son. So I understand Dalton’s motivations and would not judge him. He made a mistake, albeit in spectacular fashion. Who among us is perfect?”
“Yet you ultimately gained the title.” And Dalton envied Everett, though he would never declare it. “Your suffering has ended.”
“You might think so, but you are wrong.” Everett scooted to the edge of his seat and reclined against the armrest. “That particular noose brings with it a whole host of new problems I had never foreseen. And in some ways, I remain invisible, as no one is interested in forming an acquaintance with Lord Everett Markham. Rather, they wish to know the earl of Woverton. Likewise, the title has brought my countess unwanted overtures Sabrina Markham never would have confronted. Do you recall the contretemps with Lord Belford, last fall, during the Little Season?”
“When Sabrina trounced the rake’s foot and broke his big toe, during a waltz at the Richmond’s gala?” Trevor guffawed. “Smarmy bastard got his comeuppance.”
“Is my bride not magnificent?” Everett slapped his thigh. “Gifted her a parure of sapphires and diamonds, as I was so proud of her for that, and how I love my Brie.”
“No, no, no.” Wrinkling his nose, Blake rose from his chair. “While I sympathize with Dalton, regarding his travails, I draw the line at such sappy emotional expressions. This conversation has turned too maudlin for my tastes, and I would take my leave.”
“I concur.” Standing, Damian winced. “While there will, no doubt, come a day when we require your assistance in such mawkish endeavors, now is not the time. Until then, you may find me plowing the fields.”
“But I would caution you to remember something.” Blake met Dalton’s stare. “Not many second sons have two dukes, at the ready, to do his bidding. And you are a better man than you realize, even if you are a bit droopy about the ears. This business with the Moreton wench and Sheldon will pass, and you will not ride the storm on your own, as we are with you, come what may. And therein lies the beauty of societal dictates, as no one can ignore us.”
“Thank you, brothers.” Dalton dipped his chin, and the ducal duo departed.
“So what do you intend where the charming Miss Harcourt is concerned?” Lance queried. “Have you composed a proposal?”
“Now there is where I require your expertise, as Dirk has assured me courtship is a far cry from seduction.” And in that moment, Dalton made his decision. “But I will marry her, if she will have me.”
“Really?” Everett blinked. “How marvelous for you. Then I suppose you should—”
“Heed our counsel.”
Trevor elbowed Everett. “As we are past masters in the game of hearts. For example, while courtesans favor monetary expressions of interest, wives savor romance. Trust me, you do not want to disillusion the poor girl.”
“So I should wait?” But now that Dalton’s course was set, he was anxious to secure Daphne’s hand. “For how long would you suggest?”
“A fortnight, at least.” Scratching his cheek, Jason glanced at Lance, who nodded. “That should permit us—I mean, you to gain sufficient ground.”
“Oh, I say, Collingwood is correct.” Everett cleared his throat. “Got ahead of myself, you know. Now, you must schedule regular deliveries from the hothouse. Is she partial to a particular bloom?”
“And what of chocolates?” Lance winked. “Cara loves truffles, and she conveys her gratitude with profuse enthusiasm. And do not forget monogrammed handkerchiefs. My sugar kisses treasures them.”
For some strange reason, Dirk scowled. “Brothers—”
“Are we or are we not offering wise guidance, as not every man is fortunate enough to have his bride-to-be seduce him?” Trevor snorted. “And do not forget useless knickknacks. Does she stockpile a particular dust collector, such as paperweights?”
“Very funny.” Dirk folded his arms. “And I would have you know Rebecca adores her paperweights.”
“My friends, I owe you a debt I can never repay, as I could never manage without your sage advice.” For the first time in a long time, Dalton hoped. “Else I would kneel before Daphne, at the next opportunity, pledge my troth, and bungle it. How can I ever thank you?”
“To quote my darling Alex, stuff and nonsense.” Jason grinned. “As your future happiness is our just reward, and we shall satisfy ourselves with that.”
THE LUCKY ONE
CHAPTER EIGHT
The roses arrived just after noon, the beautiful box of lace-edged monogrammed handkerchiefs appeared around two, and a liveried messenger delivered the tin of delicious chocolates at three. Sitting in her chamber at Randolph House, surrounded by her treasure, Daphne read and reread the accompanying cards, stark but resplendent in their simplicity. The sender, alone, would have sparked excitement, but it was the singular salutation with which he had signed each missive that captured her attention and rendered her lightheaded with dizzying euphoria.
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