One-Knight Stand

by Barbara Devlin

  She brushed her palms to her forearms and marveled as gooseflesh covered her uncharacteristically sensitized skin.

  “Miss Perfect, indeed.” She humphed.

  However, neither her sister nor her dear friend had found love within the strict dictums governing their set. It was only when they threw caution to the wind and ventured beyond the limits of good society that they discovered genuine happiness and lifelong devotion. And something told her that, were she to be successful in her endeavor to catch the husband of her choosing, she would have to do the same.

  And Cara had no time to lose.

  Pulling the pins from her hair, she loosened her chignon in a figurative signal of rebellion. Yes, she was definitely due for change.

  CHAPTER THREE

  If there was one person Cara could count on for the unvarnished answers to all her questions, she knew without doubt where to commence her campaign. Having spent the better part of the night considering her predicament, she decided on a daring plan of action and intended to start out as she meant to go on with Lance. In silence, she prayed she was not making a huge mistake, which could result in epic embarrassment of her family.

  Standing before the entrance of a palatial Mayfair home, with Lance’s kerchief tucked in its secret spot near her heart, she raised a hand, ignored the subtle tremor in her fingers, caught hold of the brass knocker, and gave it a sound pounding. With a long drawn inhale and a mental plea for luck, she rolled her shoulders in an attempt to appear relaxed.

  A very proper butler opened the door. “Good morning, Miss Douglas.” He bowed and retreated a step.

  “And may I bid you the same, Ware.” She crossed the threshold. “Is my sister in residence?”

  “Indeed.” He nodded. “Her ladyship is in the morning room. If you would care to follow me.”

  “Oh, do not bother.” She brushed him aside with a casual but polite wave. “I can see to myself.”

  To wit he smiled and inclined his head. “As you wish, Miss Douglas.”

  She found Sabrina sitting on a daybed, sipping a cup of tea, chamomile no doubt, and pressing a palm to her belly. Her usually ebullient younger sister waned due to persistent symptoms of her pregnancy.

  “Cara, what a lovely surprise.” With an expression of unutterable joy, Sabrina stood, and just as quick her radiant smile faded to an unsteady frown. She swayed and splayed her arms. “Oh, dear.”

  “Sit down, Brie. You are green as a toad.” Cara helped her sister recline before taking the space beside her. She removed the cup from Sabrina’s unstable grasp and raised it to her sibling’s lips. “Here, dearest, finish your tea. It will settle your stomach.”

  “I swear, that blasted Eve did us all a woeful turn.” Sabrina closed her eyes and took a drink. “This is so unfair. The wife tosses her breakfast, grows round as a pumpkin, and suffers miserably in the birthing, while the man gets his jollies and an heir.”

  Cara laughed and patted Sabrina’s cheek. “You do have a way with words, my darling sister.” After returning the porcelain cup to its saucer, she wet a napkin and pressed it to Sabrina’s brow.

  “Oh, that feels delightful.” Her lids fluttered, and Sabrina opened her eyes. “What brings you for a visit--not that you require a reason? But I gather it must be important, because you did not send a formal notice of your arrival.”

  “Well--”

  Just then, the door opened, and Everett peered around the edge of the oak panel. “Darling--” He spied Cara and entered. To his wife, he said, “I am sorry. Did not know you had a visitor, love.” With a smile and a nod he addressed her. “Morning, Cara.”

  “Hello, Everett.”

  “I am going out, but I shall return in time for lunch.” He crossed the room and bent to place a tender kiss on his wife’s forehead. “And I will dine at home, tonight, as well.”

  “What is this I hear?” With brows arched, Sabrina inclined her head. “Not going to your club?”

  “No.” Everett stood with hands on hips. “I do not fancy the idea of leaving you alone when you are ill.”

  “But I am not alone, as we have a full compliment of servants in residence, and I am feeling better. And I daresay the worst is yet to come.” Sabrina chuckled. “So you had best maintain your usual schedule while I am still of a mind to allow it.”

  “Do not say such things--even in jest. And I can do whatever I please. If I choose to stay home with my wife, then so be it.” Everett frowned and then nipped the tip of her nose in play. “Has the sickness truly eased, my saucy Sabrina?”

  “It has, at least, for today.” Sabrina shrugged and then wound her arms about his neck and pulled her husband close. “But you may soothe any lingering malaise with your special brand of medicine, my shameless lord.”

  As they shared an amazingly thorough kiss, Cara cursed the searing heat of a blush in her cheeks and averted her gaze. In an instant, images of the similar tryst she had enjoyed with Lance flooded her mind, and the room grew unseasonably warm.

  Still, it was comforting to know the possibilities in a marriage when both hearts were engaged. Their charming exchange reinforced her position and strengthened her resolve anew, as did the kerchief bearing Lance’s initials, which she clutched to her breast as invisible armor.

  “Dearest, I would gladly shoulder your burden to spare you any pain.” Everett withdrew from his wife and lifted her hand to his lips before standing upright. “I swear I can bear anything but your suffering.”

  “I know, and I adore you for the mere sentiment.” Sabrina cast him a lopsided grin and hugged her protruding belly. “But we both know it is not possible, as this is mine to carry.”

  “Then pray indulge me,” he said softly, as he traced the curve of her cheek with his finger. “Allow me to support you as I see fit, else this will be our first and last child.”

  “As you wish.” She waved dismissively as he made for the door. “And I shall look for you at lunch. Perhaps you would care to join me for a nap?”

  Everett came to an abrupt halt, cast her a devilish smile and winked. “My lady wife, you may depend upon it.”

  Sabrina giggled as Everett exited the morning room, and then she leveled her gaze on Cara. “Out with it, sister mine. Just what are you about?”

  Though she had no personal experience on which to base her suspicions, Cara felt sure that Sabrina and Everett’s idea of a nap had little to do with sleep or rest, of any nature. And in that second, she realized she envied her sibling--not for the man, though she was very fond of her brother-in-law, but for the match. And she was more determined than ever to launch her war of hearts. “You seem so happy, Brie.”

  “I am a vast deal more than that.” Sabrina positively glowed. She reached for Cara’s hand and squeezed in emphasis. “I am content beyond my wildest dreams, beyond my fondest fantasies, as Everett is the love of my life.” She paused for a moment and then asked, “How is Lance?”

  “As well as can be expected.” Cara frowned as she sought refuge in polite conversation. “He has a fever this morning, but Dr. Handley says it is not too serious.”

  “Poor Lance.” With an expression of curiosity, Sabrina studied Cara. “Do tell, what brings you by?”

  Cara considered her words carefully. “Well, I have been thinking of getting married--”

  “What?”

  “Wait a minute, Brie.” Judging from her sister’s reaction, she had chosen the wrong words. “Remember the babe. Do not work yourself into a state.”

  “Forget my state. Who is he?” Sabrina asked, with a narrow gaze and arms folded imperiously in front of her. “What is his profession? Is he in trade? Will I approve of him?”

  “He is the best of men.” Cara peered at her hands clasped properly in her lap. “And I believe you already approve.” Amid the sudden quiet, she lifted her chin and stared her sister straight in the eye.

  After a few tense seconds, Sabrina’s mouth fell agape, and she blinked.

  Cara waited for her to say something-
-anything. But Sabrina remained frustratingly silent, and Cara wondered if her younger sister suspected the identity of Cara’s intended target. If so, Sabrina gave no hint of her conjecture.

  Instead, she simply asked, “What has this to do with me?”

  Cara summoned every ounce of courage and declared without hesitation, “I need your help.”

  “Me?” Sabrina looked her surprise. “What can I do?”

  Once again, Cara carefully considered her words. She had not a clue as to how she should proceed; because it was not every day she asked her baby sister how to entice a man. “I need the benefit of your...expertise.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Sabrina opened and then closed her mouth. “My expertise in--what?”

  “I need to know how to attract a man.” In case Sabrina had not fully comprehended her meaning, Cara added, “How to seduce him.”

  “Attract or seduce?” Shock briefly invested her features, but Sabrina recovered in a scarce second. She resituated her morning dress and sighed. “Trust me, Cara, those are two vastly different things.”

  “I know, and yet I do not know.” For the umpteenth time, she told herself that the hurdle separating her and Lance from a glorious future was not insurmountable. Determined to stay her course, and refusing to retreat, Cara forged ahead without shame or reticence. “I need you to teach me how to do both.”

  “I do not understand.” With her brow a mass of furrows, Sabrina traced the damask pattern on the daybed coverlet. “Is he a reluctant suitor or just an ignorant one?”

  Cara pondered the question, mulling various past interactions with Lance. “I am not sure.”

  “Oh, dear.” Sabrina tapped a finger to her chin in a familiar affectation of deep thought. “That is a problem.”

  “Yes.” Cara nodded once. “And I am afraid he may view me as a friend and nothing exceeding a polite acquaintance.”

  “I see.” Again, Sabrina scrutinized her, and Cara was positive recognition had dawned when her little sister gasped. “Oh, I say. You are in a tricky spot.”

  “I believe you get my meaning.” In that instant, Cara feared Sabrina saw everything in vivid detail. “And I must venture beyond the conventional if I am to claim him as my own.”

  “Bloody hell.” Sabrina whistled in monotone. “So you plan to seduce him into accepting you as something else?”

  Once more, Cara nodded. “That is the general idea.”

  Sabrina bit her lip, which was her habit when weighing her prospects and plan of attack. “Does he love you?”

  The answer to that seemingly innocuous query presented the crux of the conundrum. “As a friend, I am assured of his regard.”

  “It is not the same, Cara.” Sabrina appeared skeptical. “When it comes to women, men can be very fickle. I would not have you end up with a broken heart, and papa will kill me if I help you do something foolish.”

  “That never stopped you before.” With her plan in peril at the onset, Cara hoped to sway her with a pout. “Since when do you err on the side of caution?”

  “That was different.” Her sister snatched a square of shortbread from a plate and nibbled on the corner. “My posterior was the only one at risk. You cry at the mere threat of a spanking.”

  “Whereas you always dared father to make you weep and then steadfastly refused to yield.” Counting on her wayward younger sister as a staunch ally, Sabrina’s unusual, unwelcome, and inconvenient constraint stunned Cara. Leaning forward, she caught hold of her sibling’s wrist. “Believe me, I am more than willing to accept the repercussions from my actions.”

  “I do not know.” Sabrina sighed heavily. “This is not like you. You have always been so perfect.”

  “Do you not see?” Cara squeezed her fingers. “That is why I have to do something. If I do not take control of my destiny, if I do not make a stand for the man I want, papa will marry me off to some very proper, well-heeled English gentleman.”

  “Perhaps.” Sabrina clucked her tongue. “But that sounds just the thing for you.”

  “And you could not be more wrong, as nothing could be further from the truth.” Decrying years of obeisance of societal strictures, Cara emitted a self-mocking snort. “I want what you, Caroline, and Dirk enjoy. You have found real love, true devotion, and I want the same. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Of course not.” With a dreamy expression, Sabrina stretched her feet. “And you think the man for whom you have set your cap is capable of such a match?”

  “I know he is.” For a scarce second, Cara considered otherwise. Revisiting fonder times and countless memories, a single nagging doubt plagued her campaign. While Lance danced attendance on her without fail, his attentions had never breached the limits of polite decorum. Then again, the same could be said for her actions toward him. With renewed determination, Cara lowered her voice. “He just needs someone to believe in him.”

  “And you are that person?” her younger sibling inquired softly.

  “I know I am.”

  “Are you absolutely certain?” Sabrina seemed perplexed.

  “Help me, Brie.” Cara pressed her suit. “I promise, I will not do anything reckless. And if I do, I will bear up, whatever the consequences.” For good measure, she added, “Please, you are my only hope.”

  “But why begin with seduction?” With a countenance of pure confusion, Sabrina cast a questioning glance. “Why not take the normal route? You know, a courtship?”

  Having expected her sister to leap at the opportunity to aid her cause, Cara was again stumped at how to explain herself. Would Sabrina understand that Cara had been waiting all her life for Lance to make a move? Unlike the other Brethren females, what she felt for him far surpassed the bounds of friendship. In fact, it was their lifelong companionship that settled her mind and gave her the confidence to act. Were he a stranger, never would she ponder such bold endeavors.

  But Lance was...well, Lance.

  In the end, Cara opted for what she thought the most logical answer. “I do not have the time to wait for him to come to me. We both know I am not getting any younger. And if I am going to take a chance on love, I had best start out as I mean to go on.”

  “And are your affections engaged?” Sabrina asked, much to Cara’s consternation.

  “I will have no other.”

  “And you are sure it is more than an infatuation or girlish crush?”

  Now Cara was certain Sabrina had discerned the identity of her elder sister’s intended target, yet she could muster no shame, because she knew her aim was true.

  “He is the love of my life, a fact of which I suspect you are well aware.”

  “Oh, my.” For a while, Sabrina studied her. A few tense minutes passed. At last, she said, “I have always wondered, but--well, I suppose it might work--if you promise to be careful.”

  “You have my word.”

  “And do nothing rash. Love does not come easy, especially for men, and I would have you settle for nothing less.” All of a sudden, Sabrina grinned mischievously and slapped her thigh. “So you want to duel with the Jolly Roger?”

  “Great heavens, is t-that what you call it?” In her embarrassment, Cara stuttered.

  “Indubitably.” Sabrina laughed and nodded with newfound vigor. “And you will understand, soon enough.”

  Dreading the answer, but too fascinated to restrain herself, Cara asked, “Why?”

  “Because.” Sabrina shrugged. “Standing upright, perky and proud, looking at me with its one good eye, it reminds me of a pirate.”

  For a moment, both sisters simply stared at each other. Finally, they collapsed in laughter.

  #

  The following morning, as she ascended the stairs at Raynesford House, Cara spared a glance below as Alex shuffled Elaine into the drawing room. The youngest and most painfully shy member of their family, the poor dear was beside herself with worry for her cousin.

  Thankfully, Cara had convinced Alex to accompany her to the Prescott home and keep Elaine occu
pied, while Cara tended Lance. And although some might question her motives in securing the services of Lady Seymour, Cara comforted herself in the knowledge that Elaine required reassurance and support. After all, how could Elaine nurse Lance, when she could not manage herself? And everyone relied on Cara in difficult circumstances.

  Because she could always be depended upon in a pinch.

  After a restful first night, Lance developed a nasty fever, which left him fitful and hallucinating. What began as an occasional incoherent shout soon morphed into an eerie audial tapestry of angry cries that reverberated off the walls and cast a mournful pall on the grand residence. Unwilling to abandon her hero in his hour of need, she resolved to sit with him every day, reading poetry or the latest copy of The Times.

  Standing before the door to his bedchamber, she turned the knob and peered inside before entering. Dr. Handley paused beside the four-poster, and when she crossed the threshold, he smiled.

  “Hello, Miss Douglas.”

  “Dr. Handley.” She dipped her chin in acknowledgement, as would any proper young lady, and then gave her attention to the motionless form in the middle of the mattress. As Lance slept, she spoke in hushed tones. “How is he today?”

  “Much better. The fever broke sometime overnight.” The gray-haired physician scratched his temple. “His lordship had a light breakfast and another dose of laudanum. I want him to rest as much as possible.”

  “Oh, that is wonderful news.” Cara could have danced a jig. “How long should he remain in bed?”

  “Daresay the worst is behind us, but he must continue in a reclined state until the bone heals to some extent--perhaps, three weeks.” Dr. Handley removed his spectacles, pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket, and wiped the smudged lenses. “After that, he must limit his movement and shall require the use of a cane. Once his lordship is completely recovered, he will be as before.”