Brethren of the Coast Box Set 2

by Barbara Devlin

  Love,

  Dalton

  Were there two more glorious words in the entire world? Hugging herself, she bubbled over with nervous laughter, and gooseflesh covered her from top to toe, so she scarcely heard the knock at the door.

  “Come.” Daphne stood and smoothed the skirts of her lavender gown, as her gracious hostess entered the room.

  “Are you ready for the Promenade?” Bedecked in her signature shade of burgundy, which she declared Dirk’s favorite, Rebecca beamed with inexpressible joy. “My dear, you look so sophisticated in your new finery. And Dalton is downstairs.”

  “Dirk told me Dalton has always avoided the spectacle, like the plague.” A shiver of delight traipsed her spine, as Daphne pondered the abrupt about face of her extraordinary suitor. “Oh, Becca, is it too soon to covet hope? Am I counting my eggs before they are in the pudding? Do you believe Dalton intends to propose?”

  “I think our men did their part, as they gathered last night, at White’s.” The glamorous viscountess lifted her chin and narrowed her stare. “And I shall thank my husband, into the wee hours, for his unfailing support of our cause.”

  “May I ask a personal question?” Daphne accepted Becca’s haphazard escort.

  “Of course.” Rebecca nodded once. “What do you wish to know?”

  “Were you always so confident, in matters involving…that is to say…what I wonder is…where did you gain such information regarding the connubial bed?” Daphne’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she cursed the ever-increasing blushes. “I would never dream of impinging upon our fledgling friendship, but I am curious, and you seem so comfortable discussing what I had thought a taboo topic. You, along with the Brethren wives, make marital relations sound so natural and, to my amazement, enjoyable.”

  “Well, indeed, marital relations constitute an integral and indispensable aspect of wedded bliss.” Rebecca halted on the landing, and Daphne almost tripped. “My dear, what happens between a husband and a wife is quite natural and enjoyable, especially when they are in love, as are Dirk and I. And as for my knowledge, some I learned in service to His Majesty, but I acquired most of my experience in my devoted Dirk’s ardent embrace and gentle tutelage.”

  “Might you be willing to share some of your instruction with me?” Daphne inhaled a shaky breath. “As I must confess the prospect of my honeymoon terrifies me.”

  “Then we shall do something about that, at another luncheon with our sisters.” Rebecca drew Daphne downstairs. “And now I deliver you to your endearing companion, and Dirk and I will chaperone.”

  “Ah, here are our ladies.” Dirk came forward and claimed Rebecca. “Darling, you wear another splendid creation in my favorite color.”

  “Hello, Dalton.” Daphne had prepared a short speech to convey—something. But when her true knight grasped her gloved hand, twirled her once, and then brought her knuckles to his lips, every single coherent thought fled her.

  “Hello, Daphne.” The devilishly handsome man had the nerve to wink. Garbed in an evergreen coat, with a tan waistcoat, which highlighted his crisp cravat, black wool breeches, and polished Hessians, Dalton would have made many a fair Portsea maiden swoon. “Shall we depart?”

  After gathering pelisses and coats, the foursome journeyed by coach to the park, where a huge crowd made the rotations. Near a tall hedge, the odd extended family waited. As they approached the well-matched couples, it dawned on Daphne that if she married Dalton, that would be her life. She would subsist in a magical world of fashionable ladies and powerful men, confined by a tangle of unwritten and unspoken rules, and spend her days in a never-ending repetition of tea parties, galas, and requisite outings. Taken care of by a gentleman of considerable fortune, she would want for nothing. Yet she longed for the backwater and her charities.

  “You are awfully quiet.” Dalton settled her securely at his side, as they strolled, with the married compliment in their wake. “Did my offerings to your incomparable beauty not please you?”

  “Oh, no. I mean—yes.” Daphne clamped shut her mouth and counted to three. “What I intended to say is I love everything. The roses, the handkerchiefs, and the chocolates are wonderful, and I thank you. But why did you send them?”

  “I thought it obvious.” He favored her with a shy smile, and how she adored him. “I am courting you.”

  “What?” Her ears rang, her heart skipped a beat, and she stumbled.

  “Are you all right?” Dalton slowed his pace. “Daphne, look at me. You are as white as a sheet.”

  “Sorry.” She peered over her shoulder and discovered their legion of chaperones attempting to appear invested in conversation, as everyone avoided glancing in her direction. “But you gave me no warning, and given your behavior, which has confounded me, I fretted you marked me for another, because you stated as much.”

  He opened and then closed his mouth, as he shuffled his feet.

  “Dalton. Daphne.” Lady Elaine waved, with Lady Celia, Lady Amanda, and Admiral Douglas, in tow. “We hoped we would see you.”

  “Why did you not come with Lance and Cara?” Daphne discovered Dalton had retreated to speak with Dirk, and although her prospective suitor whispered, he gestured wildly and shifted his weight. Had she offended him? “And hello, Celia.”

  “Oh, we will never attract a beau with our brothers about, as they are veritable terrors.” Elaine rolled her eyes. “So the admiral and Amanda act as minders.”

  “Miss Daphne.” Exuding strength and dominance in his regimentals, Admiral Douglas bowed. “How do you find the city?”

  “A bit overwhelming, sir.” Addled by Dalton’s declaration, Daphne rallied her wits and seized the moment. “Lady Amanda, I wonder if I might call on you about an urgent matter?”

  “Certainly, Miss Daphne.” Wearing a navy coat festooned with insignia identical to that of her husband’s uniform, the matriarch of the family inclined her head and studied Daphne. “How very mysterious. What about Tuesday, next, at four? You can join me for afternoon tea.”

  “I would like that very much.” And perhaps Lady Amanda could ease some of Daphne’s qualms. “And I am in desperate need of counsel, so I will be prompt.”

  “My Amanda, shall we continue our walk?” The admiral pointed with discretion. “Elaine has located Sir Ross, and she is anxious to greet him.”

  “Should we allow it?” Lady Amanda frowned. “Lance does not want us to encourage her, as he does not consider Sir Ross a viable swain.”

  “Do you honestly believe we can stop her, if she is so fixed?” the admiral asked, with a chuckle. “Our younger generation is a stubborn sort.”

  “Hmm.” Lady Amanda sidled close to her husband. “As were we, my dashing sailor, despite my father’s conditions, so I sympathize with her predicament. Regardless of potential resistance, you know Elaine must follow her heart.”

  “Then let us do our duty, as I would not have her compromised into a union.” The admiral tipped his hat. “Miss Daphne, we bid you adieu.”

  Just then, Dirk shoved Dalton forward and hissed. “Now get in there.”

  An endearing red hue spread from his collar to his face, and Daphne tried but failed to stifle a giggle. “Is anything amiss?”

  “What was that all about?” Dalton inquired, ignoring her question.

  “Apparently, Elaine fancies someone named Sir Ross.” Given the openness of his family, Daphne saw no reason to temper her words. But as she settled her hand in the crook of his arm, she checked her enthusiasm when his muscles tensed beneath her palm. “Is there a problem with her choice?”

  “There could be, but I wager Lance will fight that battle, should it become necessary.” Dalton acknowledged a passing gentleman. “Now, let us turn our attention back to the discourse we began before we were interrupted.”

  “But I prefer to remain on focus.” Daphne lowered her voice, as they merged into the crush. “Why would Lance object to Sir Ross?”

  “Right now, I do not want to talk about Sir R
oss and Elaine.” Dalton steered her to the left, along a pebbled path. “My dearest Daphne, I apologize for my insolent manner, and I would never take you for granted, so I would make my plans clear and avoid any confusion. Consider this my formal proclamation of courtship. I propose we make the rounds, for a fortnight, and then we announce our engagement, if you are amenable. My mother and brother would arrange for a ceremony and a license, so we could take our vows in the first week of June, just prior to Parliament’s summer recess and the end of the Season.”

  “Wait a minute.” As Daphne and Dalton halted in a small garden surrounded by tall hedges, the Brethren compliment stood guard at the entrance. When Dalton took her hands in his, and brought her to face him, she squared her shoulders. “Am I to understand you wish to marry me? Because I asked you that in Portsea, and you indicated otherwise.”

  “Can I plead momentary insanity, kindest and loveliest Daphne?” How could anyone refuse his dimpled grin? “What say you, darling? Will you have me?”

  “I know not how to answer, as you quite take my breath away.” Bolstered by memories of a difficult childhood, due to her father’s infidelities and her mother’s disappointments, she would not be cajoled into making the most important commitment of her life. “Do you love me?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Was it her imagination, or had he paled?

  “I believe I spoke plainly, sir.” Daphne pulled free and folded her arms. “Are your affections engaged?”

  “I think so.” He shifted his weight. “I would not insult you and claim certainty, as these are frightfully unfamiliar waters for me.”

  “You are serious.” It was a statement, not a question, and everything seemed to twist and turn within her.

  “Never more so,” her knight replied, without hesitation.

  “Oh.” She paused and prepared for the onslaught of excitement, euphoria, or elation, yet a cold emptiness pervaded her senses, and she sighed. “As many nights as I have dreamed of this very scenario, I had thought I would feel different.”

  “Are you rejecting me?” He appeared so deflated, as his smile faltered.

  “I know not what to do.” She squeezed her fingers. “What of Courtenay Hall, and I must shield my brothers.”

  “No worries, as I dispatched a solicitor to reconcile your father’s accounts and pay the taxes on the estate, the day we arrived in London,” Dalton explained. “Robert is commissioned as an aide de camp for General Beresford, as he wanted, and Richard remains in Portsea, under the supervision of Hicks and your cousin Harold.”

  “What?” Daphne’s knees buckled, and she would have fallen to the ground if Dalton hadn’t caught her. “You discharged papa’s debts?”

  “You seem surprised.” He held her upright, and she leaned against him, drawing strength from his unfailing support. “Darling Daphne, I told you I would take care of everything.”

  “Just like that.” She emitted something between a sob and a snort of laughter, as the weight of the world abated. “And what of papa?”

  “As per Dirk’s request, Damian has circulated a rumor of the governor’s impromptu visit to Penhurst and his sudden illness, which a physician fears may be contagious.” Dalton cupped her cheek. “The story is you enjoy our protection until your father can join you, in the city, but we both know that will never happen. We need only play our parts, and everything will be fine.”

  “And why would we not wait for papa, to celebrate our wedding?” Myriad possibilities raced in her mind. “Would our hasty nuptials not raise the alarm?”

  “So you accept my proposal?” He lifted her chin, bringing her gaze to his. “You will marry me?”

  “I don’t see how I can refuse, given the obligations you have assumed, on my behalf.” Daphne gulped as the reality of her circumstances beckoned. “According to law, as you have purchased papa’s markers, you own me.”

  “Bloody hell.” He grimaced. “It sounds rather nefarious, when you put it that way.”

  “I am sorry.” The world pitched and rolled beneath her feet, and she closed her eyes. “I need to sit.”

  “There is a bench over here.” Her erstwhile reluctant suitor navigated to a stone pew.

  “For years, I have endured the stress of papa’s destructive behavior, with no solution in sight.” Despite her best efforts, tears of relief flowed as a rushing river, which she daubed with one of the handkerchiefs he had given her. “When you showed up at my doorstep, detailing the brooch’s theft, and I discovered Richard had taken it, I feared we had at last met our doom. Instead, you are my salvation, and I am so grateful for you.”

  “I do not want your gratitude, Daphne.” Dalton glanced left and right and then swooped to claim a quick kiss. “While I will not lie to you and claim an undying affection you know, very well, I do not harbor, that does not mean I will never grow to love you. But do not let that diminish the monumental significance of what I do feel for you, which is something altogether mystifying, as I only know I cannot begin to contemplate my future without you in it. When I envision my life, it is with you at my side. When at sea, your image will haunt my slumber, and I ache at the mere thought of being separated from you. When next I dock in London or Portsea, yours is the face for which I will search, and when we are apart, I shall count the hours until we are reunited. Were it within my power, I would employ all manner of romantic overtures to woo you, but I prefer to speak plainly, and I would not deceive you.”

  “That is more than my mother ever had with my father, so I think it a fine place to start.” After a few calming breaths, she stretched upright and noted the green grass, the buds on the verge of flowering, the puffs of white contrasting with an azure sky, and the cheery singsong of birds. How had she missed such beauty when she entered the park, and when had she ever indulged such simple luxuries? “I accept your proposal and pledge to do credit to your good name.”

  To her confusion, his expression sobered. “On that note, there is something I must tell you—”

  “Oh, no.” Filled with hope for the first time in a long time, Daphne stood and dragged him with her. “No confessions today, as I would stroll, and let everyone know I am yours, and you are mine.”

  #

  After checking his black formalwear, Dalton peered at Daphne and winked. Standing just behind Rebecca and Dirk, he waited as the manservant announced the viscount and viscountess of Wainsbrough. Then he stepped forward with his lady, stunning in the blue gown he had purchased for the impromptu ball in Portsea, and braced himself.

  “Sir Dalton Randolph and Miss Daphne Harcourt,” the Richmond’s butler announced.

  “And so it is done, my dear. Welcome to the ton.” As Dalton had expected, a murmur built, slow at first, and a sea of confident debutantes and emboldened rakes came alert, as a new entrant into society graced their company. Inside, he cursed himself for encouraging her to wear the sapphire confection, as he had selected it, in part, due to the low neckline.

  “Do you think they will like me?” She blinked.

  “Oh, yes.” The men, in particular, would fancy the angelic blonde, as she possessed just the right combination of innocence mixed with an underlying sensuality. To shield his bride-to-be, he remained fixed in Dirk’s wake, with the delectable Daphne anchored at his side, and resolved to guard her for the entire affair. When he spied Lady Moreton fast approaching, he spared the troublemaker nary a glance, as he had ended their brief but damning liaison the previous evening, at his bachelor lodging.

  At the usual back corner, the Brethren gathered, and he sighed in relief, when he ushered Daphne to the safety of the group. As Dirk had promised to enlist Rebecca’s aid in protecting Daphne, it had not surprised Dalton when the wives encircled the backwater girl.

  “Have you told her?” Dirk inquired in a whisper.

  “Not yet.” But he would rectify that omission at the first opportunity. “She wanted nothing to spoil the occasion of our prearranged engagement, and I could not bring myself to disappoint her.”

/>   “Our brothers have vowed to provide additional protection, but I would not delay.” Dirk glanced toward the terrace doors. “The sharks lurk in our midst.”

  “We shall have to remain vigilant, until I explain the situation to Daphne and win her forgiveness.” Just as Dalton had feared, Lady Moreton and Lord Sheldon had their heads together in conversation, and a chill of dread pervaded Dalton’s chest. “Did you apprise Rebecca of my lapse in judgment?”

  “Indeed.” Dirk gazed at his wife, and as always his expression softened. “I keep nothing from my viscountess, and you would do well to follow my example, as spouses have an uncanny ability of winkling secrets out of husbands.”

  “But Rebecca was a spy.” Dalton folded his arms. “She should excel at winkling.”

  “Then what is Sabrina’s excuse?” Everett elbowed Dalton. “As you would presume my most unlikely lady had chaired the Counterintelligence Corps, given her capacity for inducing spontaneous confessions.”

  “And I would swear my sweet Caroline reads minds.” Trevor winced. “It is bloody frightening, and I dare not attempt to conceal anything from her.”

  “So Sabrina and Caroline know, too?” That was all he needed to compound his problems. “Could you not have kept it from them?”

  “Not if I wish to remain welcome in my wife’s bed.” Everett wrinkled his nose. “Given we share an apartment and a single four-poster, that might prove tricky, otherwise.”

  “You could always sleep on the sofa in your study.” Trevor snickered. “Though it is a back breaker.”

  “And you would know.” Everett chuckled. “Considering how many nights you spent on my poor substitute for the proverbial doghouse, during the early days of your marriage.”