To Catch A Fallen Spy (Brethren of the Coast Book 8) (10 page)

Unfortunately for Ross, the marquess and the rest of the Brethren were waiting on the terrace, when he escorted Elaine to the house, and the grim countenances signaled a storm brewing. In an attempt to spike Raynesford’s guns, Ross opted to confess everything. “Lord Raynesford, I can explain—”

The marquess struck Ross squarely in the jaw, and he stumbled backward, as Elaine shrieked.

“Now that we have dispensed with the honor punch, what is it to be, Logan?” Raynesford folded his arms. “Pistols at dawn or the parson’s noose?”

“Lance, no.” To her credit, Elaine placed herself between Ross and her furious cousin. “If you harm Ross, you will kill me.”

The jolt brought him out of his fit of temporary insanity, and Ross wondered what in bloody hell he had done, as he could not wed any woman. But he had no choice, as he noted Elaine’s distress, and he deliberately ruined her, so he had to restore her reputation, and there was only one solution.

“No need for dramatics.” With a handkerchief, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “I will marry Lady Elaine.”

“Was that your plan, all along?” Lance shouted. “I suspect you duped me into acting as your unwitting accomplice, when I sought to protect her.”

“What is going on out here?” Cara, with the Brethren wives in tow, rushed to Lance’s side. “Would you stage a scene for the delectation of the guests? Is it not enough that Elaine is being dragged through the mire by the Hogarts, as we speak?”

“Trevor, I forbid you to kill Sir Ross.” Caroline tapped her foot on the paver. “And the same goes for the rest of you.”

“But he debauched Lady Elaine,” George insisted. “It is our duty to dispatch him to his maker.”

“I beg to differ.” Steadfast, Rebecca yanked Dirk to her side. “Your mission is to get him to the altar, on time and in once piece. And if you fail, you will answer to us.”

“Indeed.” With a huff, Sabrina collected Everett and adjusted his cravat. “And now you will adjourn to the ballroom, with a smile on your handsome face, else you will sleep on the sofa in your study.”

“And what of Logan’s offense?” asked Everett. “He must atone for his misconduct.”

It was like watching some absurd comedy on Drury Lane, as the Brethren wives wielded their power, and five heretofore-infallible husbands bowed to their mate’s pleasure. Even the unattached George and Lucien acquiesced, and Ross supposed he glimpsed his future as a member of the odd extended family.

“I grant you that.” Daphne lowered her chin and narrowed her stare. “So I will make you a bargain. Let he who committed no similar wrongdoings prior to his nuptials exact recompense.”

The repetitive cadence of night creatures formed a gentle symphony, in contrast with the clumsy shuffling of feet, as the husbands groaned in unison.

“So what do you propose to correct the current conundrum, my beautiful bride?” In a stroke of genius Ross filed for later use, Dalton switched allegiance.

“If memory serves, we found ourselves in the same circumstance, when Lady Moreton conspired against us, and we prevailed by dictating our response.” The dinner bell pealed, and Daphne snapped her fingers. “Gather round, as I have an idea.”

After rancorous discussion, during which Elaine reached behind and grasped his hand, Ross repaired to the dining room, surrounded by the Brethren. In full view of society, the men exchanged hearty backslaps and vociferous congratulations, while the ladies hugged Elaine. Despite an undercurrent of tension, the scheme worked brilliantly, as soon the whispers grew into open discourse and speculation of an impending wedding.

Sitting across from Elaine at the table, Ross winked, and she grinned. Even in a crowded room, she managed to touch him, and her invisible but comforting caress provided reassurance. For the first time in countless years, he coveted hope for something he never wanted, but would his dark past ruin any chance at happiness? Would Elaine want him if she knew the truth?

to catch a fallen spy

chapter six

Early the next
morning, after a night spent tossing and turning, Elaine donned a pale yellow morning dress of sprigged muslin and sat at her vanity, while her lady’s maid secured a bandeau. With a final check of her appearance in the long mirror, she smoothed her skirts, when a knock at the door intruded on her thoughts.

“Come.” Elaine glanced at the servant, just as Cara entered the room. “Thank you, for your assistance, Mary. You may be excused.”

“Yes, my lady.” Mary curtseyed and exited.

“Sir Ross just arrived.” Tapping her chin, Cara compressed her lips. “And while your ensemble is lovely, you should doff the fichu and opt for another eye-catching necklace, to remind him why he negotiates a marriage contract with Lance.”

“What a marvelous idea, but I will not see Ross until the settlement is concluded, because only then will Lance summon me to the study.” And that bothered Elaine, because she needed an explanation for Ross’s behavior at the Netherton’s.

For years, he rebuffed her advances, but last night he engaged in a dalliance that forced them to the altar. But what if he was so caught up in the moment, as she had been, that he did not notice the approaching interlopers until it was too late? Perhaps that accounted for the sudden shift in his attitude. If not for the courtship he initiated, however late, she would not even consider marriage to her man.

“Ah, yes. There is that.” Cara averted her stare. “But do you really want to leave the details to Lance, as I would have given anything to participate in the momentous occasion, when he faced my father, after holding me captive all night?”

“Should we besiege them?” On the thought, Elaine faulted a wicked case of nerves for her beau’s strange demeanor and bounded from her chair. “Indeed, I had better start out as I mean to go on, and Ross should know what he is getting before he speaks the vows.”

“Then let us join our men.” With a flick of her wrist, Cara beckoned, and Elaine trailed her friend’s footsteps.

“Do you think Lance will let us hold the wedding in the drawing room?” In the hall, Elaine mulled the guest list, which she intended to limit to her family, and her trousseau. “We need to go shopping, and I should commission a dress.”

“You should purchase some new nightgowns, too.” As they strolled through the gallery, Cara giggled. “But if Ross is anything like Lance, you will not require much in that department.”

That comment was enough to send Elaine screaming mad into the country.

“Will we convene the Brethren wives the night before the ceremony?” To steady herself, and ease her growing anxiety, she skimmed her palm along the polished balustrade. “I am desperately in need of advice regarding—well, you know what I reference.”

“Of course, and worry not, as we will not let you venture to the connubial bed without sensible expectations and a strategy to survive what can be an enthralling but exhausting experience.” Carla leaned near and in a low voice said, “Do not be surprised if you cannot vacate your bed the morning after your nuptials.”

“If memory serves, I did not see you for three days after you married Lance.” The reasoning for Cara’s absence fascinated Elaine. “Must confess I am a tad alarmed—”

Thunderous contretemps shattered the relative quiet, and a pair of footmen vacated the hall.

“Upon my word, what happened?” Cara sprinted toward the study. “Why, that is Lance and Sir Ross.”

In a flash, Elaine twisted the knob and flung open the door. Toe to toe, the two most important men in her life almost came to blows.

“You were supposed to enact a mock courtship, not ruin her. You promised to protect her.” Lance grasped fistfuls of Ross’s lapels. “We had a gentleman’s agreement, and it did not involve besmirching Elaine’s reputation.”

While the argument continued, Elaine focused on the remarkable revelation, which echoed in her ears in a cruel refrain.
You were supposed to enact a mock courtship…
The flowers, the attention, the kisses—it was all a bitter ruse, and she had fallen for it, because she wanted to believe in Ross. In that instant, she decided she preferred he reject her than make a fool of her. Tears threatened her composure, but she swallowed a sob of distress.

“I beg your pardon, but you need not worry about me, cousin.” Fisting her hands, Elaine cleared her throat and vowed not to embarrass herself, as Lance and Ross started and noted her presence. “Upon further reflection, I realize I cannot possibly accept Sir Ross’s gracious proposal.”

“What are you doing here, as I did not summon you?” Lance inquired, more than a little perturbed as evidenced by his stern expression. “And you will have him, as you made your choice known to all of society, last night.”

“Do not take that tone with her, Lance Fortescue Prescott.” Cara folded her arms. “What have you done, and why did you keep your machinations from your wife?”

“That is not important.” When Cara lifted her chin, Lance added, “At least, not at the moment. But Ross and I devised a means to guard her. However, he breached the limits of polite decorum, and now he must make reparations.” Then he pinned Elaine with his stare. “And you will marry him.”

“I will not, and you cannot force me.” To much commotion, Elaine turned and ran to the back parlor, which functioned as her safe haven since she was a child.

In the privacy of the familiar quaint surroundings, which featured blue flock wall coverings with forest muses in the design, she collapsed on the sofa, hugged a pillow to her face, and screamed into the cushion. As she wept, she shivered and regretted the day she ventured from the shadows and into the spotlight.

“Lady Elaine, are you all right?” Banks shuffled his feet. “I thought I heard a noise, and I did not mean to intrude.”

“No need to apologize, and I am fine.” That was not true, as inside she suffered a slow and painful death. “Could you ask Mary to remove the roses from my chamber, as they do not agree with me?”

“I shall do so, at once, my lady.” The butler offered his handkerchief and bowed.

“Thank you.” She sniffed. “That will be all.”

On his way out, Cara almost knocked him to the ground, but Banks never lost his composure, and how Elaine envied his fortitude.

“Tea, please,” Cara said to Banks. “And scones with some of cook’s clotted cream.”

“Yes, your ladyship.” The manservant dipped his chin and shut the door behind him, and Elaine braced for copious outpourings of sympathy.

“Oh, Elaine, I am so sorry.” As would a friend, Cara offered solace and a shoulder upon which to cry, as she sat beside Elaine. “And Lance will pay for his part in the ruse.”

“It is not his fault.” She buried her face in her hands, as another deluge of misery overtook her. “I should have known Ross did not want me, in truth, but I did so wish to believe in him.”

“But he is blameless, as Lance admitted Ross wanted to apprise you of their plot, but Lance forbade it.” With a humph, Cara cradled Elaine’s head and rocked. “I know it hurts, and my husband will rue his decision to keep a secret from me, if that gives you any satisfaction, but do not let that stop you from marrying the man you want.”

“What?” Elaine sat upright and wiped her eyes and nose. “You think I should hold Ross to a proposal he never intended to extend?”

“Yes, I do.” As Elaine made to protest, Cara silenced her with an upraised finger. “Hear me out, as I know too well the dilemma you confront, but I wager the circumstances were not quite so dire as mine.”

“I do not understand.” Now Elaine was well and truly flummoxed, and everything inside her railed against Cara’s advice. “I know Lance offered for you, in earnest, but you refused him. Thus our positions could not be more divergent.”

“You know that I gave my maidenhead to him prior to taking vows, so I will not attempt to deny that. But if you will indulge me, I would like to share some very personal details, that I might spare you a similar miscalculation.” When Elaine nodded, Cara continued. “It was during Lance’s recuperation from his broken leg that I took him in his bed. Of my own free will, I locked his door, I took off my clothes, I climbed between the sheets, I straddled his hips, and I claimed him as my own. I know it is shocking, but he wallowed in anger mixed with self-pity, as the injury exhausted his store of patience, and I yielded to his anguish in a moment of weakness. He was wounded and helpless, and he did not fight me. Yet I cannot indict him, as I did what I did out of love. In some respects, I probably loved him from birth, as I cannot remember a time when he did not own my heart. But after the consummation, he couched a proposal in a lecture on honor and duty. Choking on pride, I refused him and set us on a course of near disastrous consequences.”