Her Seafaring Scoundrel

by Sophie Barnes

  “Please, Devlin. It really is the least you can do after staying away as long as you have.” She sniffed. “One would think you cannot abide your family’s company.”

  He groaned and used the rest of his brandy to dislodge the chunk of sandwich wedged in his throat. “I refuse to be trotted out like some stallion seeking a mare.”

  “Dev,” Caleb said, his tight voice conveying his censure.

  “My apologies, Mama,” Devlin said, “but you know I don’t wish to marry. Everyone knows it and yet—”

  “I’m sure it’s just a question of meeting the right woman,” his mother said. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mary?”

  Devlin jerked his head around and saw that his sister-in-law had arrived. He stood, as did Caleb, and waited to sit until she’d lowered herself to the armchair adjacent to her husband’s.

  “There are men who never marry,” Mary said.

  The dowager duchess looked like she might have crossed herself if she’d been Catholic. “Please don’t say that,” she groaned while Devlin silently thanked Mary with a smile. She had certainly been the right woman for his brother. No doubt about that.

  “Although,” Mary added, causing Devlin to frown, “I would have thought that a man who’s experienced as much as you, Devlin, would want to share it with his progeny, as a legacy of sorts.”

  “All I ask is for you to put in an appearance, chat with a few young ladies, and dance,” the dowager duchess implored. And then, to ensure his compliance, she gazed directly into his eyes and said, “It would mean the world to me, Devlin.”

  Only a horrid, selfish, ungrateful son who didn’t love his mother could say no to such a heartfelt request. Even if he knew she’d laid it on a bit thick. He sighed and took another bite from his sandwich while mulling over the situation. It wasn’t what he’d been hoping for. Hell, what were the chances of Caleb, who hated ton fanfare as much as he did, suddenly deciding to host a ball at a time when he just happened to be in town? It was deuced unfortunate was what it was.

  “Very well,” he sighed, acknowledging there was no way out if he wanted to please his mother. “I shall put in an appearance and talk to a few young ladies. But I am only dancing one dance, after which I intend to remove myself to the card room.” He eyed Caleb. “There will be a card room, won’t there?”

  “Of course,” Caleb assured him.

  “And also,” Devlin said, deciding to do something nice for Monty, “I’d like to invite my good friend and first mate, Mr. Montgomery Quinn, and his wife to attend. They’re not upper crust, but they’re respectable enough and—”

  “Your friend will be most welcome,” Caleb said. “I look forward to making his acquaintance.”

  Later that evening, after the children had been tucked into bed and kissed goodnight, Mary sat at her vanity table, combing out her hair. “Your mother is up to something,” she said, watching Caleb in her mirror.

  He removed his cravat and padded across the carpet, positioning himself directly behind her. Taking the brush from her hand, he continued what she’d started.

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” he murmured in that low tone that did funny things to her insides. After years of marriage, the effect he had on her hadn’t faded one bit.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she told him wryly. “Perhaps the fact that you and I weren’t planning to host a ball this Saturday.”

  “There is that,” he agreed.

  When he frowned, she felt compelled to say, “We don’t have to do it, you know. I’m sure I can think of some excuse to get us out of it if you don’t want the ton invading our home.”

  He sighed. “No. I suppose a Camberly ball is long overdue.” Finishing with the brush, he set it aside and placed one hand on her shoulder. Their eyes met in the mirror. “Will you have enough time to plan it though?”

  “I think I can manage if Emily and Cass help me write the invitations.”

  Caleb bent to press a kiss against her cheek, then straightened and smiled. “You have to make sure she’s at the ball.”

  Mary didn’t even try to pretend not to know to whom her husband referred. Three friends, two of whom had each married a Crawford brother, made it reasonable to surmise that the third would marry the last. Although…

  “Cass has no intention of getting married.”

  “Neither does Dev,” Caleb said as he offered his hand to Mary and helped her rise. “So they already have that in common.”

  She grinned. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

  “Terribly handsome?” he asked right before he pressed a kiss to her mouth. “Or terribly wicked?” he asked as he pushed her silk robe off her shoulders.

  Mary simply sighed and gave herself up to her husband’s caresses. There would be more time for logical thought and party planning in the morning.

  Chapter 2

  The last place Cassandra Moor wanted to be was at a ball. Not only because she considered it to be a colossal waste of time, seeing as she wasn’t looking to marry and frankly hated dancing, but because it was one of those grand affairs to which every member of the ton had been invited. Which meant her parents were in attendance.

  Hovering near the refreshment table where she could be somewhat obscured by a pillar, Cassandra peered through the throng of guests at the spot where Fiona and Charles Moor, the Earl and Countess of Vernon, stood. Since they were conversing with friends, Cassandra doubted they’d noticed her presence, which was just as well. The last time she’d seen her mother, the lady had crossed the street in order to avoid an embarrassing encounter with her ruined daughter. While Cassandra could appreciate the fact that she had gone and done the unthinkable by getting herself pregnant outside of wedlock, she’d always believed her parents should have loved her no matter what.

  “Who are you hiding from?” a familiar voice asked.

  Cassandra turned in response to Mary’s question and saw that both she and Emily must have approached without her realizing. Jutting her chin a little to the left, Cassandra indicated the spot where her parents stood. “Who do you think?”

  A sympathetic glimmer touched Mary’s eyes. “I’m sorry about that, but they are the Earl and Countess of Vernon. It would have been bad form not to invite them.”

  “I know,” Cassandra grumbled. She turned more fully toward her friends. “Had it occurred to me, I would have stayed away.”

  “Then it’s a good thing it didn’t occur to you,” Emily said with a smile. “The evening wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  “Thank you. I suppose.” Cassandra rolled her eyes when both her friends chuckled. “I’m not really in Town for this sort of thing, however, and in a way I feel as though I’m being too lavish by coming here. It did require purchasing a new gown.”

  “And what a lovely gown it is,” Mary said.

  “You’re allowed to pamper yourself every once in a while,” Emily added. “At Clearview you hardly ever get the chance.”

  That was a bit of an understatement, Cassandra decided. The last time she’d attended an event near Clearview that even remotely resembled something as grand as this was six years ago when Caleb had been staying with her, Mary, and Emily under an assumed identity.

  “Speaking of Clearview,” Mary said, “have you managed to work out an agreeable arrangement for the twelve-year-old girl who wrote to you?”

  “Yes. Her aunt has finally released her into my custody.” Like most of the children Cassandra had cared for over the years, Rosemary Clarence was an orphan. She’d written to Cassandra two months ago to inform her that her life had become intolerable after her father died and that she hoped there might be room for her at Clearview.

  Cassandra frowned at the memory of what she’d discovered when she’d first gone to visit the girl’s home. “That woman treated poor Rosemary as if she were her slave, not caring one whit about me being there. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you managed to wrestle Rosemary away from her evil clutche
s then,” Emily said.

  “How did you manage to do it?” Mary asked.

  “How do you think?” Cassandra gave them both a meaningful stare. “I paid her a handsome sum of money.”

  “Well. I’m sure it’s money well spent,” Emily said. She moved to where a large pitcher of lemonade stood on the refreshment table and began filling three glasses. “Clearview will be good for someone like Rosemary who’s been treated unkindly.”

  “How are things at Clearview going by the way?” Mary took one of the glasses Emily had filled and handed it to Cassandra. “You’ve been so busy while in Town, we’ve barely managed to talk. Hence my reason for insisting you join us this evening.” She added a smirk then sipped her drink.

  “All is well. As you know, Katherine is a tremendous help.” The daughter of the Marquess of Stanhope, Katherine Donahugh, had fallen for one of the footmen in her father’s employ. A child, now five years of age, had been the result, along with Stanhope’s assurance that he wanted nothing further to do with Katherine or her bastard child. And since Katherine’s fate was so similar to her own, Cassandra had sympathized deeply with her plight and offered she come live with her.

  Together, they’d continued helping orphans until they reached the age of fourteen and required a more demanding education than the two women were able to provide. At this point, the children would move to Montvale Manor where Mary and Caleb took over, assisted by the tutors they’d hired.

  “It is always a relief to hear you say so,” Emily said. “Leaving you at Clearview by yourself so I could go off and get married has always made me feel guilty.”

  “It shouldn’t. If you’ll recall, Katherine moved in before you moved out.” Taking a sip of her lemonade, Cassandra glanced back at where her parents had been standing and instantly froze. “Oh dear God, they’re coming this way.”

  Her friends looked in the same direction as she. “Whatever happens,” Mary murmured, “you have our support. They won’t be allowed to be anything but cordial, or they shall have us to deal with.”

  “And our husbands,” Emily said, alerting Cassandra to the fact that Caleb and Griffin were almost upon them. They’d been approaching from an angle that hadn’t been within Cassandra’s line of sight.

  “Are you talking about us?” Griffin asked with a devilish smile as he came to stand next to his wife.

  “Only in the context of the two of you possibly having to give the Earl and Countess of Vernon a set down, depending on how the next five minutes play out.”

  “And where is Devlin by the way?” Mary asked. “He promised he’d be here.”

  Cassandra’s mouth went instantly dry. “Devlin’s back?” How she managed to pose that question in a normal tone was beyond her. But she was grateful for her ability to do so.

  “Arrived a few days ago,” Caleb said. He seemed to survey the room. “Speaking of missing people, I haven’t seen your brother either, Cass, and he assured me he’d be here.”

  “He’s danced the last two sets with Vivien,” Cassandra said. She’d actually been hoping he and her sister-in-law would soon be done so she could ask them if they could go home. She was staying with them during her visit, so they’d come to the ball together by carriage.

  Another swift glance toward the spot where her parents had been moments earlier caused a cold bite of angst to grip Cassandra’s spine. They still hadn’t seen her, but they were awfully close and now…now there was the added risk of running into Devlin – the only man in the world whom she had to avoid at all cost.

  “Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said as she took a step back. “It’s been delightful. Really.”

  “You’re not leaving already, Cassandra?” Mary looked slightly miffed, though not the least bit surprised.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

  “Don’t worry about your parents,” Emily told her. “We won’t let them hurt you.”

  As much as Cassandra loved her friends for being so protective of her, she rather feared it was too late. Her parents had hurt her more than she would ever admit to anyone. “Thank you. But I prefer not to give them the chance. Please let Robert and Vivien know that I’ve gone back to their house.”

  And with that she turned and hurried away, following the periphery of the ballroom until she knew her parents were somewhere behind her. Breathing a sigh of relief, she walked toward the open doorway, content in the knowledge that no one would try to detain her. After all, who would want to be seen in a fallen woman’s company anyway? And if there was any doubt in her mind about whether or not those present might have forgotten who she was or the scandal that clung to her name, it was swiftly dismissed by the critical glances and muted whispers to which she was now subjected.

  Behind the pillar, she’d been safe. Out in the open, she was prey for the vultures.

  Doing her best to feign disinterest, she straightened her spine, pulled back her shoulders, and marched past the lot of them, happy to climb the two steps leading out of the room and into the hallway. Until she almost collided with the one person besides her odious parents she’d been hoping to avoid.

  Devlin Crawford, who’d been entering the ballroom as she’d been trying to exit, came to an instant halt. “Lady Cassandra,” he murmured, as if surprised to find her there. His eyes, warm and dark and with a slight hint of mischief, met hers.

  And in that instant Cassandra was reminded of all the reasons why she’d been hoping not to run into him this evening, which she’d almost quite literally done. And really, when she put her mind to it, she had to admit all her reasons actually equaled one: the fact that he made her knees grow weak and her heart start to gallop, and lord, she was scarcely herself when in his presence. Which was probably why he was staring at her as if she’d lost her head.

  Which she had. More or less.

  “Lord Devlin,” she said, quite pleased with the level tone of her voice. “I did hear that you had returned.”

  The edges of his eyes crinkled in a charming sort of way as he smiled. “Indeed.” He was quiet for a moment, during which Cassandra wondered if she ought to step out of his way since she was, in fact, blocking his path. But then he said, “I hope you’re not leaving just yet.”

  “Now that you mention it—”

  “For I promised my mother I’d dance at least one dance this evening. And dancing it with you, a longtime friend of the family’s, would be infinitely better than having to engage a young debutante.”

  Cassandra knew he didn’t mean to insult her and that she shouldn’t be hurt by his referring to her as a friend, but somehow the comment still stung. Which was part of the problem. Because she’d loved Penelope’s father with all her heart and he’d loved her back. They’d made promises to each other and dreamt of the future they’d share once they were married. One indiscretion, the night before the wedding, hadn’t seemed like a bad idea at the time. They’d wanted to be together and knew they’d be man and wife the next day. But rather than the joyous occasion they’d both been expecting, tragedy had struck in the worst possible way. And Cassandra had never recovered from the news that Timothy Dorset, Earl of Lemfield and heir to the Marquess of Sussex, the man with whom she’d hoped to spend the rest of her life, had perished on his way to the church.

  Now, thirteen years later, she was just as aware as she had been back then that falling for anyone else would be a betrayal. So the guilt that sank its venomous teeth into her conscience each time Devlin made her cheeks flush or her skin start to tingle or her heart begin racing was what propelled her to keep her distance from him.

  “I’d rather not,” she said, then took a deep breath. “The last time we danced I stepped on your feet at least five times.” She’d been out of practice and incredibly nervous.

  He smiled – that lopsided smile she loved so well. It melted her bones. “That’s a very long time ago,” he said, offering her his arm, “and it really wasn’t so bad.”

  Cassandra glanced past his shoulder, at the fron
t door barely visible at the end of the hallway. In that moment it seemed so close and yet so horribly far away. “I really must go,” she tried.

  “And so you will. Right after this set.”

  And that was when she realized his insistence was based on more than his wish to avoid some young lady eager to snatch the last of the Crawford men. It also had a lot to do with the fact that their conversation was starting to attract attention. People were beginning to stare, which meant she could no longer leave without causing a stir or encouraging gossip. As it was, it might be too late, but at least she still had the power to ensure that the gossip remained positive and that it would not reflect poorly on any of the Crawfords.

  “You owe me,” she muttered between clenched teeth as she placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her toward the dance floor. The moment she touched him a bolt of lightning raced up her arm. She groaned and wished she’d stayed at her brother’s home for the evening.

  “Duly noted,” Devlin said in response to her comment. With the sort of elegance that ought to have been impossible for a man who was over six feet in height and possessed shoulders twice the width of hers, he spun her into position.

  Cassandra instinctively gasped in response to the unexpected movement, and then the music began and she realized whatever nightmare she was currently living had just gotten worse, because this was no simple country dance or even a quadrille, cotillion, or reel. This was the waltz of all things and that meant close contact with one’s partner and…

  “Cass?”

  Startled, she tripped and promptly planted her foot right on top of his shoe. “Sorry.”

  If she’d hurt him, he didn’t let it show. Instead he tightened his hold on her hand and pulled her into a more secure position, bringing her shockingly close to his person. “Is something the matter?”

  “No. Of course not. Why would you suppose such a thing?”

  He gave her an incredulous stare. “Because you’ve been looking like a trapped rabbit since the moment I arrived.”