“Do not fret.” Cara squeezed his hand. “I am sure she would not object to a tiny indiscretion. The answer is yes, Alex speaks of little else but her heroic Captain Collingwood.”
“Oh, I say.” She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his smile broadened to impressive lengths. “May I entrust you with a secret, Miss Douglas?”
“By all means, Captain.” Cara nodded and summoned patience, as she had done nothing to advance her goal. “You may rely on me.”
“When this infernal war is over, I intend to offer for Alex.” With an expression of trepidation, he compressed his lips and twirled Cara. “If she will have me.”
“Captain, I daresay you would face far greater danger than anything General Bonaparte could pose were you to return to our shores and not propose to Alex.”
“Miss Douglas, your words are music to my ears.” Jason came to a halt, and she circled him. “I am in your debt.”
“But I am already in yours, Captain.” Cara curtseyed and thought that the perfect opportunity to initiate her discussion. “You see I no longer require--”
The dinner bell pealed, and it was then she noticed the quartet had quieted. Various couples veered toward the main hall, and Cara cursed, because she had squandered her chance.
“I believe it is time for supper.” Jason bowed.
“Yes, but--”
“If I may, I would appreciate the honor of escorting Miss Douglas.” Lance extended his arm, and she rested her palm in the crook of his elbow.
“Thank you, my hero.” As Jason sought Alex’s company, Cara’s mind raced with possibilities to end their arrangement.
And then it struck her. A new idea dawned, a solution she had discounted prior to that moment. She realized that once she accepted Lance’s proposal, they would make their happy announcement, and she needed only to thank Collingwood for his cooperation with none the wiser.
“Is there a particular spot you prefer, my lady?” Lance ushered her into the crowded venue. “Near the dessert trolley, perhaps?”
“How about a place that affords us a modicum of privacy, as I would share you with no one.” When her future husband came to an abrupt halt, she almost tripped. “Did I say something wrong?”
“On the contrary, I like the way you think, sugar kisses.” The look with which he favored her would have melted butter, and he scanned the area. “How about the dimly lit corner, near the terrace doors?”
“Perfect.” They weaved left, and Cara acknowledged numerous notable members of society. “Later you might show me the Hayward’s gardens.”
His answering smile was pure wolf. “Now that is a request I dare not refuse.”
Ah, the heretofore-unexpected benefits of table linens played right into Cara’s plans, as a seemingly innocuous swath of cloth provided concealment for Lance’s exuberant games. While on the surface all appeared proper, beneath the elegant shield of cream damask trimmed in old gold, Lance availed himself of every opportunity to touch her.
The heat of his caress penetrated her lavender silk gown to kiss her thigh, as he grazed the toe of his shoe along the back of her ankle. And on occasion, after a quick check of the immediate vicinity, he pinched her bottom. By the time she had consumed the main entrée of chicken fricassee, Cara was hungry.
“So, should I fetch you a cookie or some pudding?”
“Might I persuade you to forego dessert in favor of a sweet of a different sort?”
“An inspiring suggestion, sugar kisses.”
“I love it when you call me that.”
“Do you?” Lance winked. “Appropriate to my lady.”
“And I am your lady.” Cara met his gaze, held it with her own. “Never doubt me.”
She knew the precise moment he understood the full meaning of her declaration, because he stood and led her outside, to the flagged surface of the terrace. In the silvery glow of moonlight, he strode to a side path.
“Where are we--”
“Shh.” In a low voice, he said, “Come with me.”
The cool November air rushed beneath her skirts, and Cara shivered as she scurried in his wake. “It is chilly tonight.”
“Do not worry, sugar kisses. I will warm you as soon as we get where we are going.” The promise in his statement conveyed the glow of passion, and again she shuddered.
Just ahead she spied a tiny gazebo, nestled amid a cluster of formidable oaks. No sooner had they entered the small structure than a rapacious marauder charged her, and without care for her own safety, she flung herself into his path, their lips met, and desire exploded at the point of contact.
For a long while Cara held him, shedding her prim façade, layer by layer, which had served her so well, and she said with her mouth, hands, and body what she was afraid to utter aloud. And then a warning from the past intruded on her delightful interlude: But every time he takes you in his arms, whispering praise and encouragement, you tell yourself it is enough to know that he desires you, above all else, even though you believe otherwise.
In an instant, she flinched and retreated as the words echoed a taunting refrain. How correct her sisters had been with their sage counsel, as a dull emptiness settled in her gut.
“What is wrong?” Lance asked.
“Nothing.” She braced herself against his chest and considered her next move. “But there is something I would say, and I would do so without interruption.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“All right, lady mine.” He kissed her forehead, which did much to soothe her frazzled nerves. “If it is that important, I yield.”
“Indeed, it is of utmost urgency.” Cara inhaled a deep breath and rolled her shoulders. “Do you recall the afternoon we spent at Sandgate, huddled beneath the desk in your uncle’s study?”
“You were seven, and I was twelve, and a winter storm whipped up a howling gale from the west, off the Channel, and frightened you.”
“The very same.” What fond memories Cara had of their childhood.
“How could I forget?” He grinned the boyish grin that never failed to quicken her pulse. “For it was the first time you referred to me as your hero, as you sheltered in my lap for two hours, and I swear I grew ten feet tall in an instant, if only to fulfill your requirements.”
“But you did, Lance. In every way possible.” She cupped his cheek. “The truth is you were my hero long before that day, just as I have ever been your steadfast lady. And you must know that when I sit at the pianoforte, be it at our family gatherings or one of the ton’s supper parties, I sing and play for you, alone. I want--”
Voices sounded, and Lance pressed a finger to her lips, lest they be discovered, as the unwelcome interlopers neared. But he held her so tight Cara knew not where she ended and he began. In the shadows of their hideaway, he stared into her eyes. Then he bent his head and with the jut of his nose he teased hers, his warm breath a gentle caress of her sensitized skin. Gooseflesh covered her from top to toe, and she shivered.
Lance shifted, unbuttoned his coat, and enveloped her within the warm folds of his formalwear. Wrapping her arms about his waist, she rested her head to his shoulder, snuggled close, and sighed. In a hushed tone, she inquired, “Are we found?”
“No,” he responded in kind. “But a gentleman would seek an alternate accommodation once he noted our silhouettes, so we should give it another minute.”
“You will hear no complaints from me, as I should be happy to remain here, with you, like this, forever.” Beneath her palms, his muscles tensed.
“Dearest and loveliest Cara, I do not pretend to understand why you rejected my previous offers of marriage, but I hope we have moved past any prior difficulties,” he whispered. “Were it not for my injury, I would kneel for the occasion, my darling.”
“An unnecessary gesture, my lord, as you and I have never stood on formality.” At last, she would seize her prize. And while she anticipated no declaration, she vowed to fight for his heart. Just as her sisters claimed th
e love of their respective husbands, so, too, would she reign supreme over her Nautionnier Knight. As she considered the monogrammed handkerchief tucked inside her bodice, she smiled.
For Cara, everything progressed to perfection.
#
For Lance, everything progressed to perfection.
“May I presume you welcome my suit?” He held his breath.
“You may.”
“Oh, Cara.” He exhaled in relief, as never could he have foreseen the fervent reversal of her position. “There is so much I want for us. I want to build a family with you, to hold you as your belly swells with my heir, to comfort you when you ache, to celebrate the miracle of birth, and to grow old with you.”
“I want that, too.”
“But I am not a good man.” Lance thought of Thomas, of his failure to save his cousin, and acknowledged the gut-wrenching guilt, which had resurfaced with a vengeance. “I fear I will never deserve you.”
“Nonsense.” She framed his face. “And I will have no other.”
“Then have me.” Rolling the dice one last time, he took her hands in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “My most beautiful Miss Douglas, will--”
A feminine giggle pierced the serendipitous moment.
“Bloody hell.” Again, he pulled Cara close, cursing the unknown persons who had just cut short his proposal before he could deliver it and secure her answer. “Never knew the Hayward’s garden saw so much action.”
Unlike the prior interruption, the most recent intruders tarried in the immediate vicinity, which placed his lady’s honor in peril. Even had they announced their betrothal, the late night dalliance could mar Cara’s reputation even after the vows were spoken, and society could be quite cruel.
“Oh, dear,” she whispered. “What should we do now?”
“Return to the ball.” Lance glanced left and then right. “Take the path by which we came, and enter from the terrace.”
“But what will you do?”
“I shall return via the side door of the Hayward’s library and join you for our waltz.”
“Dare I ask how you possess such knowledge of their residence?”
“No.” He set her at arm’s length. “And you should go, before our absence is noted.”
“But, we did not--”
A decidedly male chuckle hung in the air.
“Shh.” Lance tucked a stray curl behind her ear and kissed her. “We will finish what we started here, I promise.”
“All right, my hero.” Cara descended the shelter of the gazebo and navigated the pebbled walk. As she stepped into the moonlight, she glanced over her shoulder and cast him a shy smile. Did she not know what she did to him when she looked like that?
At that very instant, the lilting singsong of lovers snared his trained ear, and he dipped his chin in insouciant salute at whichever rake inspired such impressive feminine moans.
Unwilling to enact an unforgiveable breach of the unwritten but nonetheless potent male code of honor and disturb the heated tryst, he jumped the railing and bit his tongue when he snapped a fallen branch beneath his feet. The telltale rush of alert had him stifling laughter, and he held his position.
When peaceful calm fell on the garden, Lance retreated, step by cautious step--and backed straight into what he guessed was the unfortunate Romeo.
“Oh, I say.” Jason Collingwood clutched a hand to his chest. “My apologies, brother, but you gave me a powerful fright.”
Lance opened and then closed his mouth. Before he could reply, none other than Alexandra Seymour wandered into a clearing, and the silvery light from the moon above illuminated her face. As Alex retraced the same path that Cara had taken, Lance grabbed Jason by the lapels.
“Tell me, Collingwood, and be quick about it, if you value your life.” Lance jerked hard on his adversary. “At what games are you playing?”
“From the look of things, I would assert the same in which you engage, given your presence.” Jason wrenched free and resituated his coat. “Are you mad, Raynesford?”
“I could ask the same of you.” Burning with unrestrained fury, Lance rested hands on hips. “Out with it, Collingwood, else I will see you at dawn. Why do you dance attendance on Cara Douglas in the Hayward’s ballroom, for all the ton to see, and kiss Lady Seymour in the bushes?”
“Easy, Raynesford.” The scoundrel splayed his palms. “Do not jump to conclusions, as I am innocent.”
“As the devil.” Lance snorted. “You have five seconds to tell me the whole of it.”
“But I gave my word as a gentleman to keep their secret.” Collingwood shifted his weight and scratched the back of his head. “And I am loathe to betray my Alex’s confidence.”
“Your Alex?” Brimming with ire, Lance could have throttled the newest Nautionnier Knight, right then and there. “Would you prefer to breakfast on bullets? Or perhaps you favor swords? In either case, I shall indulge you.”
“By Jove, I believe you are serious,” Jason replied with palpable shock. “Yet you misjudge me, Lance. And I resent that, really I do, as I am in earnest.”
“Drop the pleasantries and explain yourself, or you will not live to see the morn.” Lance folded his arms and summoned patience that should qualify him for sainthood. “I am waiting.”
“Hell and the Reaper, you leave me no choice. Yet I do not suppose there is any real harm if I reveal their predicament.” Jason peered from side to side. “Given your lifelong acquaintance with Miss Douglas, I presume you know the identity of the blackguard who used her without regard for her reputation, availed himself of her love, and then did not make her an honorable offer. And perhaps you can solve a conundrum for which I can glean no solution. Why did she not seek the assistance of the Brethren?”
The world tilted beneath his feet, and a shiver of dread traipsed his spine. “I beg your pardon?”
“What so-called man refuses to marry Cara?” Jason clucked his tongue. “While I have never claimed to possess above average intelligence, from my perspective, Miss Douglas seems a very fine lady. Were my affection not firmly planted in Alex’s garden, to the detriment of all others, I would consider Miss Douglas a suitable candidate for a wife.”
“Who spun such a fantastic yarn?” Lance asked with unchecked incredulity.
“Why, Alex did, of course. But it is no yarn.” Jason inclined his head. “Yet you appear surprised by my revelation.”
“More than you know.” Lance chucked his brother knight’s shoulder and said, “Follow me.”
With Collingwood in his wake, Lance located the side doors of the Hayward’s library. In the confines of the impressive athenaeum, which featured countless shelves of books encompassing all manner of fiction and reality, myriad emotions attacked Lance. “All right. Start at the beginning, and spare no detail.”
“Why do I suspect I have been duped?” Jason frowned and exhaled. “At the onset of the Little Season, Alex engaged my services on Cara’s behalf.”
“To what purpose?” His ears rang and his temples throbbed.
“It is elementary, really. They--Alex and Cara, asked me to feign an interest and enact a mock courtship designed to bring our errant suitor, though I would argue reprobate is more apropos to the circumstance, to the fore and secure a proposal.” Jason shrugged. “While I am not in full agreement with their logic, I find it difficult to deny Alex anything, as she is my lady.”
In that moment, Lance closed his eyes and sighed, as something within him fractured. Double-dealing mixed with heretofore-unimaginable disappointment, which well nigh brought him to his knees, and he leaned on a nearby desk for support.
Although Lance would have loved to deny the truth, Collingwood’s confession made such delusion inconceivable. That the one person Lance had always trusted, without question or doubt, had committed such unforgiveable behavior left him reeling, especially in light of the devotion he had just shared with her. Had she found sport in his adoration?
“I understand your rationale for e
mbarking on the foolhardy endeavor.” In silence, he pondered Cara’s possible motives for trickery. What had driven her false pretense? Why had she lied to him? “Faced with similar proposition, I would have acted the same.”
“Would you?” Collingwood adjusted his cravat.
“Aye.” Lance extended a hand in friendship and was relieved when Jason accepted the gesture without hesitation. “My apologies for my prior outburst.”
“None necessary, as I can imagine I appeared the worst sort of villain to the uninformed party.” Jason furrowed his brow. “So tell me, who is the bastard that played fast and loose with Cara’s reputation?”
Lost amid the confusion, and downright hurt, though he would claim otherwise were he asked, Lance grasped at the minutest shreds of comportment, because his course necessitated recalculation. Given he had compromised Cara, he had to marry her, so his goal remained fixed. But her duplicity had destroyed the veil of fantasy and childhood innocence with which he had always viewed her.
“I am the man you seek.” The pain in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. “But I disagree with your characterization, as I have not earned it.”
“What?” Jason tugged on Lance’s arm. “You must be joking.”
“Would that I were,” he replied with calm solemnity. “Let me assure you, I am serious.”
“But--you?” With an owlish expression, Collingwood blinked and sputtered. “This makes no sense.”
“Indeed, I concur.” Were he a child, Lance would surrender to a violent spate of tears, as despair was a bitter pill, and Cara had grievously wounded him. “And it may interest you to know that I have proposed to Cara on a number of occasions, all of which she has refused.”
“Then why would they tell me otherwise?” Jason asked.
“Now that is the question for which I have no answer, brother.” Lance mulled the situation, and his mind raced in various directions, none of which seemed plausible excuses. “I do not pretend to comprehend Cara’s actions, but I do require privacy to further explore our predicament. And there is one aspect in which my certainty is absolute.”
“And that would be--what?” the blameless pawn queried.
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