Passionately Yours

by Cara Elliott

  His brows tilted upward in question. “Dare I ask?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  I have enough explaining to do.

  Crunch, crunch. The wheels rolled over the gravel. Resigning herself to the inevitable, Caro tried to smooth the worst of the wrinkles from her much-abused gown, then abandoned the effort in favor of snagging an errant curl and refastening her hairpins.

  Alec was watching her in bemusement. “They are your sisters, not the Royal Princesses.”

  “You don’t understand.” Tug, tug. “Men may take courage from a bottle of brandy, but ladies take heart from feeling they don’t look like something the cat dragged in.”

  “Ah.”

  Her eldest sister uttered the same brief syllable some moments later as the carriage steps were let down and Caro climbed out from the shadows. Olivia was clearly making an effort to keep a myriad of questions in check. But her face, always very expressive, betrayed not only affection but also a quirk of appraising amusement as she caught sight of Alec.

  “You must be Lord Strathcona. I have heard quite a lot about you, but look forward to forming my own impression…” Olivia paused to envelop Caro in a fierce hug. “Once I’ve had a lengthy chat with my sister.”

  “Indeed, you and McClellan will have much to talk about—other than this little adventure.” Anna hurried down the portico steps to stand by her elder sister. “But as you say, politics can wait for a bit.”

  “I—I can explain—” Caro untangled herself from Olivia’s embrace, only to find the air squeezed from her lungs by the middle Sloane sibling.

  “I am looking forward to the story,” drawled Anna. “It promises to be more entertaining than any horrid novel.”

  “So am I.” Anna’s husband, Lord Davenport—better known as the Devil Davenport—sauntered up to the carriage. “I thought you a sensible man, Strathcona. Didn’t the experiences at Dunbar Castle teach you a lesson about the dangers of getting involved with the most impetuous member of the high-spirited Hellions of High Street?”

  Caro huffed.

  “If you wished for a quiet existence in your wild Highland hills,” went on Davenport, “you have made a very grave mistake.”

  “Only a paltry, lily-livered fribble of a fellow would prefer peace and quiet to having his life turned upside down,” replied Alec.

  Davenport chuckled. “In that case, welcome to the family.”

  “Adventure seems to run in the family.” The Earl of Wrexham, Olivia’s spouse, chose that moment to join them. He eyed Alec for a long moment. “You are joining the family, aren’t you? Otherwise my mother-in-law might demand that I call you out.”

  “Wait, wait, everyone!” Caro felt things slipping out of control—not an unusual occurrence when the sisters were together. But Alec was not yet used to the experience of having all three Hellions of High Street together, so she wished to give him a moment to catch his breath. “Before you all begin to rake Alec over the coals, please allow us to wash off the travel dust and partake of some refreshments.” She hugged both her sisters again. “One needs to be well fortified to face our family.”

  “It’s not only Alec who is going to feel his skin get a bit scorched,” murmured Anna. “Your letter lit the direst of fears. Devlin and I commandeered a naval dispatch sloop to rush to your rescue. And naturally I alerted Olivia that trouble might be brewing. So we decided to rally the forces, as it were, and come to Bath to rescue our little sister from the perils of her passionate nature.”

  “How—” began Caro.

  “Never mind that now,” said Olivia. “We’ll have a comfortable coze shortly—about a great many things—but first, let us take you in to tea.”

  “Yes, you must be famished.” Isobel had been waiting for the sisters to finish their greeting before releasing her hold on Alec and coming to offer her own embrace. “I am so relieved to see you.” She glanced back at her brother. “Both of you. Thank God you are safe.”

  “Alec was a true hero—” began Caro.

  “Hero?” interrupted Anna, a mischievous gleam lighting in her eyes. “Oh, don’t say anything more about heroes until I can fetch my journal and jot down some notes. I am always looking for fresh inspiration.”

  Isobel smiled uncertainly.

  Caro patted her arm. “In case you haven’t yet learned it, both my sisters have a very peculiar sense of humor.”

  “That is rather the pot calling the kettle black,” observed Olivia.

  “Indeed,” chimed in Anna. “That’s another thing we will discuss at greater length as soon as you have had some refreshments.”

  “Aunt Adelaide and I have a lovely repast waiting,” said Isobel brightly. “Shall we go inside?”

  “Of course we will talk,” said Caro softly, as her sisters each took an arm. “But surely it can wait until evening. I can’t abandon Alec—”

  “Oh, don’t worry about Alec,” said Anna with an evil chortle. “Davenport and Wrexham will keep him occupied.”

  As the maids cleared the remains of the bountiful tea and pastries, Alec watched Caro’s sisters hustle her away to one of the upstairs bedchambers. It would be quite a while before she reappeared, he reflected, given how much had happened in the last half year.

  A few short months. The sun and the moon revolving through their usual cycles. And yet his universe had utterly changed. An inexorable force, a powerful magnetism, had realigned all the stars in the heavens, and suddenly his inner compass had no trouble navigating through the vast stretch of darkness and the countless points of winking light.

  Love. Strange how the word suddenly felt so right on his tongue. Watching the sway of her shapely hips disappear through the archway, he was tempted to shout it aloud for all to hear.

  “You look like a hound bewitched, who is about to begin baying at the full moon,” drawled Davenport. “I have a feeling you would welcome something stronger than tea. Allow me to pour you a brandy.”

  “Pour one for me as well,” said Wrexham.

  “The Perfect Hero drinking while it’s still daylight?” Davenport waggled a brow. “Marriage must be softening your steel.”

  The earl responded with a very un-Wrexhamlike grin. “My steel has suffered no ill effects from wedlock.”

  The retort earned a mirthful snort from his brother-in-law.

  “But we are not here to discuss my matrimonial state,” went on the earl. “Rather that of Lord Strathcona.” He fixed Alec with an inquiring look. “Please assure me it won’t be pistols at dawn. Not only is it cursedly uncomfortable to rise at such an early hour, but I am accorded to be a deadly shot, and you appear to be a decent fellow.” A pause. “Aside from having seduced my wife’s baby sister.”

  Davenport let out a bark of laughter. “Perhaps it would be wise not to open Pandora’s Box on who in this room might be guilty of anticipating the marriage vows.”

  Wrexham allowed a hint of a smile. “Perhaps you are right.”

  “I, too, am accorded to be an excellent shot, Lord Wrexham,” replied Alec calmly, once the banter had ceased.

  “Having seen him in action on the Scottish moors, I can confirm that,” offered Davenport helpfully. “What a pity you are both so skilled,” he added with a theatrical sigh. “The sight of blood upsets my delicate sensibilities.”

  “However,” went on Alec, ignoring the Devil’s barbed teasing, “I trust that any test of marksmanship will be confined to a more pleasant use of bullets and powder—like shooting apples off the top of Davenport’s head. Because, I assure you, my—”

  Andover, who had tactfully kept himself removed from the reunion until now, chose this moment to poke his head into the room. “Is this a private family gathering, or might I offer my greetings to Alec?”

  “From observing you with Strathcona’s sister, it appears you are almost family,” quipped Davenport.

  Andover coughed and colored slightly.

  “So by all means, join us.”

  Alec wasn’t unha
ppy at having the chance to divert the attention from him, at least for the moment. “Oh? Is there a development I ought to be aware of?”

  “Nothing formal,” replied Andover in a strangled voice. “I was, er, waiting for you to return to speak, um…”

  “First things first, Andy,” interrupted Wrexham. “Before we discuss your matrimonial prospects—congratulations, by the by—I think we ought to settle the matter of Strathcona’s intentions.”

  “Which are, of course, completely honorable,” answered Alec. “I have proposed, and Caro has seen fit to accept.”

  “God only knows why,” murmured Davenport.

  Wrexham moved to the sideboard. Ignoring the decanters, he opened the cabinet door and brought out a silver urn containing a bottle of champagne nestled in shaved ice.

  “I was hoping you would say that. It would have been a pity to have to return such a fine vintage to the cellar.” He popped the cork and filled four glasses. “Shall we drink a toast, gentlemen?” he said, passing them to the others.

  “To the Hellions of High Street,” said Davenport. He winked at Andover. “And their soon-to-be sister in the Black Magic art of bewitching their men.”

  Crystal clinked, punctuating the low rumble of male laughter.

  “To the Hellions!”

  “So, shall we draw straws to see which one of us recounts her story first?” Settling smoothly into the role of eldest sister, Olivia took a seat in one of the upholstered chairs by the bedchamber hearth, while Anna assumed an elegant sprawl on the settee. “Though I must say, mine will be the shortest and least interesting.”

  “Oh, that doesn’t matter,” said Caro hastily. “The men will likely want to take a leisurely interlude to trade masculine jokes over port and cigars, won’t they? So you should take precedence.”

  “The men might well be taking the leisurely interlude to trade masculine punches,” said Anna. “Wrexham was very concerned that you had been placed in a very awkward situation.”

  Caro had just taken a perch on the edge of the bed, but shot up in a flash. “Oh, you don’t think—”

  “No, I don’t,” replied Olivia firmly. “They won’t come to blows… assuming John decides Lord Strathcona is worthy of your hand.”

  “And assuming Strathcona asked for it, and not just some other part of Caro’s anatomy,” added Anna dryly.

  Caro felt a heated blush rise to the very roots of her hair.

  “Just jesting.”

  “I—I should hope so.” She lifted her chin. “Alec is a man of stalwart honor and unimpeachable integrity.”

  Olivia slanted a look at Anna. On receiving a confirming nod, her shoulders relaxed a little. “Not that I truly feared the worst, but some gentlemen can be very charming rascals, and…”

  “And with my passionate nature, you worried that I might be swept off my feet by a few poetic phrases.”

  “Well, since you put it that way.”

  All three sisters began to laugh.

  Oh, it was beyond marvelous, thought Caro, to have them here teasing her. And sharing her joyful news. If anyone could understand how she felt about the wonders of love it was Olivia and Anna.

  Brushing away a tear, Caro quirked a watery smile. “I’ve missed you both so very much.”

  “And we you,” answered Anna. “But don’t think you’ll wiggle out of explanations by sweetening us up. Forget about how we came to be here. It’s simple enough—by a serendipitous twist of luck, your letter happened to reach me just as Davenport received a note from the Foreign Office asking him to return early from our visit. So a fast naval sloop was waiting to whisk us back to England.”

  “And Wrexham and I had just arrived back at Wrexham Manor when Anna’s warning arrived by special courier,” chimed in Olivia. “Naturally, we set out immediately to meet up in Bath.”

  “So now it’s your turn,” said Anna. “Isobel has told us some of the details of what has been going on, but we expect a full recount.” She grinned. “I know a good story when I hear it.”

  “Oh, very well,” conceded Caro. “I’m not nearly as skilled at this as Sir Sharpe Quill, but I shall do my best.” She slid back onto the coverlet and drew her knees up to her chest. “It was a dark and stormy night—really, it was!” she added quickly, seeing Anna roll her eyes. “Isobel and I were attacked on a country lane just outside of Bath, and that is how the whole adventure started.”

  “A dramatic beginning,” mused Anna. “I couldn’t have written it any better myself.”

  “Shhhh. Stop interrupting, or we’ll never get to the end,” warned Olivia.

  “Sorry.”

  “Do go on, Caro.”

  And so she did, with a bit of stumbling at times, and with a bit of glossing over the exact details of the intimate interludes. Both her sisters exercised considerable restraint, though there were several occasions where they couldn’t refrain from pressing for clarifications.

  Crafting a narrative was devilishly difficult, she realized, her admiration for Anna growing even greater. At last, however, she managed to bring her account to an end.

  “My, my.” Olivia leaned back in her chair and let out a bemused sigh. “You’ve certainly had an eventful few weeks.”

  “What she means is, we’ve known for years that you’ve been yearning to have your own adventure.” Anna tapped her fingertips together. “And now you have.”

  “And now I have,” agreed Caro.

  “Was it all that you hoped it would be?”

  Even if she had wished to, it would have been impossible to hold back a smile. “It was all that I hoped for—and more.”

  “Yes, well, the ‘more’ part does tend to happen when a handsome, stalwart, honorable man is involved,” quipped Olivia.

  “You forgot sexy,” pointed out Anna. “Speaking of which…”

  Ummm. Caro considered pleading sudden fatigue and crawling under the covers.

  “Now that we’ve settled a number of questions, I have just one burning one left to ask.” Anna glanced at Olivia and flashed a mischievous wink. “Knowing our impetuous sister all too well, I can’t help but wonder—do you think she did or didn’t?”

  Deciding three could play the teasing game—after all, she was no longer the baby sister—she retorted, “Ha—don’t look so smug, you two. Are you trying to say you were perfect paragons of propriety?”

  Her sisters exchanged guilty grins, and then began laughing.

  “We are, after all, the Hellions of High Street,” said Olivia. “What fun is it to have a slightly shady reputation if you can’t be a little naughty.”

  “Despite all the trials and tribulations, we have had fun, haven’t we?” mused Caro.

  Silence settled over the room for a long moment, the bond of sisterhood wrapping them in unspoken love.

  “And it promises to get even better,” said Anna. “I’m sure our extended family will keep us on our toes.”

  At the mention of family, Caro climbed down from the bed. “I’d like to invite Isobel to join us. You will like her very much.”

  “We already do,” assured Olivia.

  “Andy has found the perfect match,” added Anna fondly. “It’s delightful to have him join the clan—he will make a wonderful brother.”

  Isobel was a little shy about joining in, but Caro and her sisters quickly drew her into the spirit of things. A lengthy interlude ensued as the conversation danced through a number of topics—most of them having to do with men and their foibles.

  “Oh, my. You all seem so knowledgeable about these things, while I…” Isobel blew out a sigh. “I confess, I—I have several questions to ask about… love.”

  Caro put her arm around her sister-to-be and gave her a hug. “I’m not sure there are any easy answers, but we shall be happy to share our thoughts.”

  “Indeed,” said Olivia. “But as that will likely take quite some time, I suggest we wait until later. It’s almost suppertime, so we ought to go down and join the others.” A rumble of male
laughter suddenly made its way up from the drawing room. “It sounds like the celebration in progress will put us in just the right mood for talk of Cupid and his arrows.”

  The festivities soon turned even merrier. Champagne corks popped, punctuating friendly jests and flowery toasts to the impending nuptials. Wrexham was just finishing his speech when a thumping and bustling in the entrance hall drew everyone’s attention.

  “Who could that be?” wondered Caro.

  “I expect it will be Mama,” explained Olivia. “When Alec’s note arrived here, I sent word that she ought to hurry and join us if she didn’t want to miss a momentous announcement. After all she has been through with three headstrong daughters, it seemed only right that she be here to savor the fruits of her labor.”

  The drawing room door flew open with a thump, and the baroness marched in. “What is this about an engagement?”

  Caro opened her mouth to speak, but Anna and Olivia were even quicker to elaborate on the happy event.

  “Hmmph.” Lady Trumbull pursed her mouth and huffed a few rapidfire breaths as she mulled over the news. “I must say—”

  Olivia intervened before she could go on. “Mama, surely this is cause for great celebration. Just think—your travails are over. You will soon have all three daughters married.”

  The baroness sighed, as Wrexham hastened to present her with a glass of champagne. And then, to Caro’s great surprise, she broke into a broad smile.

  “I will, won’t I?” She took a moment to survey her children, then slowly moved her eyes around the circle. “A marquess… an earl… and a baron.”

  Her gaze lingered on Alec. “I was hoping for…”

  “Yes, yes, I know—a prince,” said Caro. “Princes may sound oh-so grand in fairy tales, Mama. But my sisters and I have found something infinitely more wonderful than paper and ink royals.” She leaned against Alec’s shoulder and curled her fingers around his big, warm hand. “We have found flesh and blood heroes.”

  For a moment there was silence as the baroness signaled to Wrexham for more champagne. She then cleared her throat.