Her Seafaring Scoundrel

by Sophie Barnes

  “Well, I was trying to leave until you decided to stop me.”

  Inclining his head, he gave her a roguish smile while leading her in a wide arc that took them along the edge of the dance floor. “It’s good to see you again. I probably should have mentioned that first.”

  She felt her cheeks grow warm and hoped he wouldn’t notice her blush. “You weren’t away quite as long as the last time, I don’t think.”

  “Were you counting the days until my return?” He waggled his eyebrows and spun her sideways.

  “Only so I could make sure to be out of Town by the time you dropped anchor.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue, though she did intend for it to be a joke.

  He laughed, causing a pair of perfect dimples to form on either side of his mouth. Cassandra deliberately looked away. Her heart had belonged and always would belong to Timothy. To feel something even remotely similar toward another man was wrong. Plain and simple.

  “I’ve always enjoyed our conversations, Cass.” She liked the shortened version of her name, even though it was also used by everyone else who was close to her and therefore meant nothing beyond a familiar bond. “There’s a straightforward openness to you along with a great degree of maturity and common sense.”

  She snorted. “Many would argue with you on that point.”

  “Why? Because you did something once that resulted in bringing a lovely little girl into this world?” When she gazed up at him and nodded, he smiled down at her and said, “I would never call that a lapse in judgment or a mistake. And those inclined to do so are fools.”

  Cassandra would have liked to say she got something in her eye at that moment, but the truth was that his understanding, most especially his acceptance of Penelope, practically slayed her. If she wasn’t so determined to remain faithful to Timothy, she’d probably do something foolish like ask Devlin to marry her right then and there. At present, a nod was all she could manage, for her throat had turned into a giant knot, and she feared she might break down at any second and blubber all over him like a nitwit. Gracious, even her heart hurt, not with sadness but with overwhelming amounts of gratitude.

  His expression had also tightened, as if the moment was affecting him emotionally as well. He cleared his throat and tightened his hold on her hand. “I’m sorry for all you’ve had to suffer. It isn’t right.”

  “It’s the way of the world,” she managed to say once she’d taken a moment to compose herself. She tried to smile but it felt awfully strained.

  “And part of the reason I try to avoid Society as much as possible.” He snorted. “Once you’ve travelled to other countries and experienced other cultures, all of this – the rules that govern us British – seems utterly trivial.”

  “I’ve always envied you your ability to travel and see the world.” She didn’t miss the look of surprise in his eyes as she said it.

  “Really? I would have thought you’d want to remain in England, more specifically at Clearview, considering all the children in your care.”

  “Well, of course.” A chuckle escaped her when he surprised her by spinning her quickly around before settling into a steadier pace. “I can’t actually go anywhere, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t like to dream.”

  A flash of appreciation lit his eyes. The music faded and he guided her to a graceful halt. “Thank you for dancing with me,” he said as he led her off the dance floor and toward the doorway through which she’d been planning to escape when he’d arrived. “I hope our paths cross again before I leave England.”

  “As do I,” Cassandra replied, even though she had no intention of letting that happen. The feelings he’d stirred in her tonight were too powerful, too tempting, and entirely too dangerous. Which meant it would be best if she returned to Clearview as quickly as possible.

  Devlin watched Cassandra walk away. He’d always found her pleasing to the eye, her curvaceous figure the sort that could capture a man’s imagination for hours. She was also one of the prettiest women he’d ever known, with her lustrous brown hair, exotic green eyes, and a lush mouth that always seemed ready to smile.

  But she was a close friend of Mary’s and Emily’s – the three were practically sisters – so chasing after Cassandra without the proper intentions would only result in him getting flogged by Caleb and Griffin. A pity, since he’d long believed she was equally drawn to him. For although she hid it well, her frequent blushes while in his company, the breathiness to her voice, and the way she always seemed to tremble whenever he touched her, revealed he was more than able to make her burn with desire.

  “Devlin!”

  He took a deep breath, expelled it while watching Cassandra exit through the front door, and turned. “Good evening, Mother.” There was nothing like her to put an end to his improper thoughts.

  “You cheated.” Her arms were crossed and her brow knit in a disapproving scowl. “When I asked you to dance this evening, I meant with a debutante, not with Lady Cassandra, who’s—”

  “What?” Devlin felt the muscles in his back begin to bunch with annoyance. “Think very carefully before you finish that sentence, Mother.”

  Her eyes widened with what appeared to be shocked disbelief. And then she took a step closer to him so she could whisper, “Just so you know, I am extremely fond of Cassandra. It would never occur to me to speak of her disparagingly.” She leaned back a little and sighed. “All I meant to say is that you might have tried dancing with a woman who’d be interested in marrying you.”

  “First of all,” Devlin said, forcing his temper back under control, “you know perfectly well that I don’t wish to marry. And second of all,” he added before his mother had a chance to argue, “what makes you certain Cassandra wouldn’t be interested?”

  “Because,” the dowager duchess explained with the patience of someone addressing an infant, “if she were, I believe you would have married her years ago.”

  “What the…” Devlin caught a look of interest from one of the guests and instantly turned his back on the nosy female. He lowered his voice even further and asked, “What on earth do you mean by—”

  “Devlin. Mother.” Caleb’s well-rounded tone demanded attention. And so Devlin gave it to him. “You two look like a pair of conspirators, whispering over here in the corner. Care to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Not especially,” Devlin grumbled, then added, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  “No matter.” Caleb glanced from one to the other then told the dowager duchess, “I believe your friend, the Duchess of Chitilla, is looking for you.”

  “In that case, you must excuse me.” She gave Devlin a hard look. “One more dance, Dev. You owe me.” And then she was off.

  Owe her?

  For what? Giving him life?

  “I gather our dear mama wasn’t pleased with your trying to placate her by dancing with Cass.”

  “She insists I give it another go.”

  “And will you?”

  Devlin looked Caleb straight in the eye. “Of course not.” He’d done as he’d promised, whether his mother agreed or not. Glancing away, he searched the room until he located Monty, then raised his hand to draw his attention. “Wouldn’t mind a drink outside on the terrace though. Care to join me?”

  Caleb nodded. “Certainly.”

  “Have you met my first mate and longtime friend, Mr. Quinn?” Devlin asked as soon as Monty had reached them.

  “We exchanged a few words when he and his wife arrived,” Caleb said.

  Monty gave Devlin a nod by way of greeting. “One would think you’d be more punctual when you live at the place where the ball is held.” The edge of his mouth pulled upward. “Was there a great deal of traffic between your bedchamber and the downstairs, Dev?”

  “Ho, I like you,” Caleb told Monty while Devlin did his best to maintain a serious expression.

  “Mm…” Devlin muttered. “You wouldn’t believe the sort of impassable pile-up that can occur on a landing.”
The three men laughed. When their mirth faded, Devlin said, “We were just discussing drinks on the terrace, Monty, and I thought you might like to join us.”

  “Sounds like a splendid idea to me,” Monty said. He tugged at his cravat. “The fresh air would do me good.”

  “It’s settled then,” Caleb said. “Let’s go.”

  They each snatched a glass of champagne from a serving tray as they went, then headed toward a pair of French doors made almost entirely of glass. Once outside, they removed themselves to a private spot a little off to one side where they could talk openly without too much chance of being overheard.

  “So,” Monty said in that way he so often did when he was about to broach an uncomfortable topic. “The woman you danced with…”

  Devlin clasped his glass a bit harder. “What about her?”

  “Is something the matter with her?”

  “What?” Devlin almost spat the champagne he’d just drunk back out.

  Monty shrugged. “There were a lot of whispers, so naturally I—”

  “Lady Cassandra is a close friend of the family’s,” Caleb said, apparently sensing Devlin would more likely sputter than speak if he tried to say something else at the moment. “She’s the Earl of Vernon’s daughter, which made it all the more scandalous twelve years ago when she had a daughter out of wedlock.”

  “Could she not have married?” Monty asked. “Surely there must have been someone willing to take on the task of raising her child in order to gain an attachment to such a prestigious title.”

  “If she received any offers,” Devlin said, “she turned them all down. As far as I know, she’s content to be a spinster with a bastard child, however unusual that may be.”

  “You could have asked her,” Caleb said. “After meeting her, that is.”

  Devlin frowned and took another sip of his drink. “I’ve as little interest in marriage as she does.”

  Monty made an “hmm” sound that clearly demanded further investigation, but Devlin forgot all about responding the moment he heard a lady say, “I cannot believe the duke and duchess would think to invite her.” The speaker had just stepped onto the terrace a few yards from where Devlin stood.

  “It is my understanding that she and the duchess are dear friends,” another voice gently advised.

  “Well yes. There is that, I suppose. But to not consider the Vernons’ feelings really is bad form.” There was a small sniff. “Can you imagine having your scandalous daughter make a spectacle on the dance floor for all the world to see? I mean, honestly! She practically threw herself at him, poor man.” There was an outraged snort. “As if Lord Devlin would ever consider marrying the likes of her. The mere thought of it is—”

  “What?” Devlin asked stepping forward. He set his glass aside and faced the spiteful shrew. His head felt like it might explode at any given second. In fact, strangling the woman before him was not an implausible outcome. He stared her down while digging his fingernails into his palms. “The mere thought of me marrying Lady Cassandra is what, madam?”

  “I…ugh…” The shrew gaped at him as if he were some sort of statue who’d suddenly come to life. And then she said, “I am Baroness DeVries. A lady of the peerage.”

  Devlin deliberately grunted, then proceeded to stare her down.

  “I don’t believe he cares about that,” the baroness’s friend muttered.

  She was right. The only thing Devlin cared about at that precise moment was seeing justice served. Because Cassandra was one of the finest people he’d ever known and she deserved to be defended. Even if that meant forcing the horrid baroness to choke on her own words.

  “Yes?” he inquired in an eerily quiet voice that managed to turn his own stomach. “You were saying?”

  “Um…merely that…er…” She glanced at her friend while fidgeting with her gloves but when she found no help there, she surprised Devlin by raising her chin and looking him dead in the eye. “You are a duke’s brother for heaven’s sake and she is nothing but a—”

  “Lady DeVries,” Caleb snapped.

  “—trollop,” the baroness finished, punctuating her statement with a victorious smile.

  What she couldn’t see was the blood rushing through Devlin’s veins or the tight strain of his muscles. Never in his life had he been so livid, and if Lady DeVries had been a man, he would have called her out by now so he could have the pleasure of shooting her dead.

  “Devlin,” Caleb murmured from somewhere nearby. “Don’t do anything rash. I beg you.”

  But the middle-aged woman who stood before Devlin, dripping with smug maliciousness, had pushed him past all reason. “And what makes you so much better?” he asked.

  Lady DeVries gasped. Her friend gulped, took a step back, and then fled back inside the ballroom, abandoning the baroness to her fate. Caleb groaned and Monty managed to get in a weary, “For God’s sake, Dev,” before Lady DeVries recovered and said, “I will not be spoken to in such a rude manner. I deserve better.”

  “So does Lady Cassandra.”

  The baroness crossed her arms. “Don’t be absurd. She might have been born into the nobility, but she threw all of that away the moment she chose to—”

  “Madam,” Devlin seethed, “I would advise you to choose your next words wisely.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I shall have to ask you to leave,” Caleb said.

  The baroness scoffed – scoffed! – in response to her host’s statement, but Caleb apparently chose to let it go without comment. “Why am I not surprised?” she asked as she turned away and started toward the French doors leading back to the ballroom. But just when Devlin thought that might be the end of their quarrel, she turned back to face him with all the arrogance Devlin despised about the aristocracy. “Lady Cassandra is a fallen woman. When even her parents can see that, I don’t understand why you find it such a hard concept to grasp.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Monty murmured.

  Devlin speared Lady DeVries with his hardest glare. “You will not speak of her in that manner.”

  “As much as I respect your family, I hardly think it appropriate for you to advise me on how I may or may not refer to a person of such low moral standing as Lady Cassandra.”

  Maybe it was the fact that he’d just gotten off a ship after several months at sea, maybe it was the champagne—though he seriously doubted it, or maybe it was the fact that he’d really enjoyed seeing Cassandra again that finally made Devlin come up with something completely unplanned and, quite possibly, cataclysmic. What he did know was that he could think of only one way in which to give Cassandra the stamp of approval necessary to make this woman regret her words.

  Blind with rage and as he’d later admit not entirely clear-headed, he ignored Caleb’s words of warning and leaned toward the baroness. Meeting her gaze with all the hatred he possessed for her at that moment, he said, “It bloody well is when she is to be my wife.”

  Chapter 3

  The silence that followed was such that Devlin could hear his own heartbeats.

  Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

  Oh, dear mother of God, what had he done?

  He blinked, startled by the words he’d heard himself speak. And Lady DeVries – her mouth kept opening and closing like a mackerel gasping for air. Which was probably the only reward he would get from his lack of restraint.

  Devlin unclenched his fists and leaned back slowly. Now he would have to figure out what to do next. He glanced at Caleb and Monty. Both men stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. And they weren’t entirely wrong. Within a few minutes, Lady DeVries had driven him to madness, and he, foolish man, had allowed her to do so.

  “You and Lady Cassandra Moor?” the baroness screeched. Devlin turned to face her. A knot had formed at the base of his throat and his lungs felt horribly constricted. Unable to speak, he nodded.

  “Well!” Outrage squeezed her features together in an ugly manner. “And to think I was hoping you’d give your attentions to my Lu
cinda.” She sniffed with obvious disdain. “Thank you for inviting me here this evening, Camberly. Unfortunately, the company has proven too intolerable for my tastes. I shall see myself out.”

  “Please do,” Caleb told her retreating form.

  “I don’t suppose there’s a hope in hell of her never mentioning what occurred on this terrace?” Devlin asked once she’d gone.

  “It’s unlikely,” Caleb said. “And even if she were to keep silent, the rest of the witnesses probably won’t.”

  “What?”

  “Did you forget we weren’t the only people out here?” Monty asked.

  Devlin turned and saw only his brother and friend. Until they tilted their heads to the left. Certain he was about to have his worst nightmares realized, Devlin looked toward the other side of the terrace. His stomach dropped and his heart stopped beating. Or at least that was how it felt. Because there, off to the side, were no fewer than ten guests, all staring at him in shock.

  “Christ.” His hands were trembling, no longer from anger but from panic. “What have I done?” The question kept repeating inside his head. He met Caleb’s solemn expression. “What the hell have I just done?”

  “You saved a friend’s reputation,” Caleb told him.

  “But at what cost?” He looked to Monty, then back to Caleb. “She’ll never forgive me for this.” And who could blame her when he’d just gone and ruined her life?

  “Let’s think about it for a moment,” Caleb suggested. His voice was calm, if a bit strained. “It might not be as terrible as you fear.”

  “Marriage can be a wonderful thing,” Monty said, “and considering your longstanding friendship with the lady in question, she might not be averse to the notion of having you for a husband.”

  “I’ve actually always imagined the two of you ending up together one day. So has Mary.” Hands in his pockets, Caleb rocked back on his heels and smiled. “Yes, this could quite possibly be a blessing in disguise.”