Craving the Rake's Touch (Rakes of the Caribbean) (5 page)

Chapter Ten

Damned or not, morning came. Benedict had never hated
the light more, never mind that the weather promised to provide one of the best
of the summer. There was fishing planned for the men and a picnic to follow.
Only the thought that Sarah would need him to play host got him down to the
breakfast room, dressed for the day’s activities.

Any hope he had of having a quiet breakfast alone evaporated
immediately. Devonshire was already there as was Teddy, Ren’s younger brother.
Teddy grinned when he saw him. “Benedict! I heard you were here.” The boy jumped
up from the table, a tangle of gangly limbs. “Sarah says I can fish with
everyone today. Some of the other boys from the village are coming along,
too.”

Benedict smiled. He was genuinely fond of Teddy, having never
had a younger brother himself. “You’ve grown! Look how tall you are.” Benedict
held up a hand over his own head and nearly leveled it with Teddy’s. “I think
you weren’t even up to my shoulder the last time I saw you.”

Teddy grinned, pleased at the compliment. “The last time you
saw me, I was only ten. Where have you been? You used to come around all the
time with Ren.”

Benedict fixed a plate from a sideboard loaded with breakfast
favorites—eggs, sausage, kippers, hot toast, smoked salmon, summer strawberries
and cream—and politely ignored Teddy’s question with a diversion of his own.
“Tell me what you’ve been up to? Is the rope swing still up at the swimming
hole?”

“Yes, and Ren put in a second one last summer.” Teddy beamed.
“Perhaps we might try it out before dinner today.”

Benedict nodded. “We might just squeeze it in if Sarah keeps
dinner until later.”

“She will if you ask her,” Teddy said confidently, biting into
a piece of toast.

Devonshire looked over the edge of his newspaper. “So you have
that much pull with Lady Sarah? The benefits of being a nominal host, I
suppose?” Devonshire’s tone bordered somewhere between suspicious and nasty.

“What do you mean by that?” Benedict asked sharply.

Devonshire raised an inquiring eyebrow. “What do
you
mean by it? You breeze in here several days into a
house party to which you were not invited and attempt to steal a march on decent
men with a day to go. Men, I might add, who have come here under the impression
that Lady Sarah means to choose one of them, that a very important match is
about to be made.”

Teddy was looking avidly from Devonshire to him. Damn
Devonshire for his lack of discretion. This was not a subject to be vetted in
front of Sarah’s brother. Benedict rose, leaving his plate untouched. “I think
our discussion might be better suited to the veranda.”

Devonshire gave a mean laugh as he stood. “It is absolutely
hilarious and ironic to see you in the role of moral arbiter, DeBreed. The
veranda it is.”

Outside, Benedict did not mince words. “If you have a problem
with my presence, you address it with me privately. But you know better than to
bring up Lady Sarah in such a way in front of young Teddy.” He wondered if Sarah
would forgive him if he rolled up his sleeves and planted Devonshire a facer.
Probably not.

“What I have a problem with is being brought here under false
pretenses,” Devonshire began. “This is a matchmaking party and everyone knows
it. We are all here for the same end. Even if we’re all here for different
reasons, we all need the same goal accomplished. We all need to marry. Do you
need to marry? Is that why you’re here, too?”

He slid a sly look in Benedict’s direction and Benedict
stiffened. “Perhaps Lady Sarah needs to marry faster than the rest of us.”

Devonshire pulled a letter from inside his coat pocket. “I had
a note from my friend, Rhys Camry, to that extent.” He paused, waiting for a
reaction. Benedict was careful to not give him one. This was the nightmare he’d
ridden neck or nothing to Sarah for.

“Perhaps you are not surprised because you already know the
contents of the letter?” Devonshire asked, hazarding a guess. “Maybe that’s why
you’re here, to warn Lady Sarah of impending scandal or to implore her to pick
one of us faster than news can travel. She might have pulled it off if my news
hadn’t come from the source.” He winked at Benedict. “I doubt anyone else will
hear of it for a day or two. She could still pull it off unless I decide to
spill the news.”

Ah, Benedict understood now. Devonshire wanted to negotiate.
He’d never liked Devonshire much. The man had all the natural enticements to be
considered a matrimonial catch. But beneath all that, Devonshire was mean and
manipulative and extraordinarily disloyal. He was not a man to be trusted. Of
all the men present, Devonshire was the man he’d least want for Sarah. The very
thought of her chained to such a man turned his skin cold. Devonshire’s next
words fairly made his skin crawl.

“Ensure that Sarah picks me and I’ll squash the scandal. She
was considering me as a forerunner in this merry chase until dinner last night,
or should I say until you showed up and sequestered yourself away with her.”

Devonshire gave him a speculative stare. “Why do you suppose
that is? Does she favor another or did you say something that might have
redirected her attentions? She can’t seriously be considering Badgley’s boy.
He’ll have to have his father consummate the marriage, did you tell her
that?”

Benedict summoned a preternatural amount of patience.
Devonshire needed to be taught a lesson about respect and decorum when it came
to Sarah Dryden. “I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong man. I cannot guarantee I
hold any sway with her. I’m simply here out of a favor to her brother.”

Devonshire gave an easy shrug. “I understand. I misjudged the
situation. Perhaps I should put the situation directly to her then. Lady Sarah
strikes me as an imminently practical woman. Thank you for your time, DeBreed.
Enjoy the fishing today.”

Devonshire turned on his heel and strode inside. Benedict
gripped the brick half wall of the veranda, seething. Sarah had to be warned.
Every fiber of him wanted to run to her and tell her of Devonshire’s trap. But
that was the worst thing he could do. Devonshire would be watching, waiting for
exactly that. And who knew what Devonshire’s response might be? Benedict could
imagine him denying it when Sarah confronted him. He could imagine Devonshire
suggesting to her that he, Benedict, had made it up for some nefarious purpose
to perhaps dissuade her from his suit.

Benedict turned to go inside, his hands fists at his side.
Those hands were metaphorically tied at the moment. How did he save Sarah?

The busyness of the house party saved him from any foolishly
motivated chivalry. Even if he’d wanted to rush to her side, the party was
getting underway for the fishing expedition and Sarah was in the thick of it,
guiding people to carriages and directing servants with hampers and fishing
poles, tents and blankets, to wagons. Her sister, Annaliese, was with her.
Younger and shyer, Annaliese was glued to Sarah’s side. The best Benedict could
do was bide his time, wait for a discreet opening and in the meanwhile devote
himself to keeping Teddy out of Devonshire’s clutches. Who knew what poisonous
rumors Devonshire would fill Teddy’s head with given the chance.

* * *

Every chance she had, Sarah’s gaze wandered in
Benedict’s direction. It didn’t matter where he went, her eyes seemed to know.
And they seemed to want to undress him. She found herself mentally removing his
jacket, stripping off his shirt, tracing the contours of his chest in her mind.
Contours she now knew were there. It was a private torture to play such a wicked
game knowing she had to let him go. She tried to focus on the others, on
Brisbourne, who suddenly seemed so much less engaging than she’d thought him at
dinner, and on Badgley’s shy son, but to no avail.

“Do you want to talk to Benedict?” Annaliese asked quietly at
her elbow as they walked along the river’s edge.

“Why would you think that?” Sarah said a bit too sharply,
surprised by the comment.

“You’ve been watching him all morning.” Annaliese hesitated.
“It was nice of him to come. I miss him. I always feel less shy when he’s
around.” She nodded toward the spot where Benedict stood in the water, pole in
hand as he explained something to her brother. “He’s good with Teddy. I think
maybe he’s good with a lot of people. He helps us be less awkward.”

Sarah stared at her sister, startled by her insight.
Annaliese’s face brightened, her grip on Sarah’s arm tightened. “I know, Sarah.
You should marry Benedict. If you’re going to marry, why not him? We all like
him and he’s been part of the family for ages, or at least he used to be.” Her
enthusiasm faded a little. “Then he just stopped coming around, but he’s back
now.”

Sarah watched Benedict with Teddy and her stomach did a queer
flip. He was good with people. How did she tell her sister, though, that he
didn’t keep his promises? How did she tell her sister the truth behind the house
party? She couldn’t pick Benedict because he didn’t have enough money. He had an
old property in West Sussex and a dream. Did he still have that property? Did he
still have that dream? He laughed at something Teddy said, the sound of it
drifting to her over the gurgle of the river. This time it was her heart that
clenched. It did that before it broke, she knew from experience. But she knew
from instinct it wouldn’t heal this time. Perhaps it never had.

Sarah looked downstream to Brisbourne. His head was bare, the
sun shining off his blond hair, his body lean and graceful as he reeled in a
trout, the men around him cheering and joking. She wished—oh, how she
wished—that she might love him, might feel for him a fraction of the intensity
she felt for Benedict DeBreed. But she felt nothing.

“It’s not fair, Sarah,” Annaliese said softly. “It’s not fair
to Brisbourne. He’s a good man, he deserves to be more than your consolation
prize. It’s not fair to you, either. Why would you throw away happiness?”

“It’s not that simple,” Sarah began but Benedict caught her eye
before she could look away. He handed Teddy the fishing pole and started toward
her.

“It can be,” Annaliese whispered, slipping quietly from her
side.

Benedict was wet, his hair damp, but it only added to his
appeal. “Teddy’s getting big, and Annaliese is going to be a beauty in London
next year.” It was as good of a conversation starter as any, but Sarah sensed he
hadn’t strode through the river to tell her that. Something else lurked behind
those green eyes.

He dropped his voice and guided her farther downriver toward
semiprivacy. “Sarah, we have to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” Sarah stalled the urgency in his voice. Perhaps
she could talk herself into Brisbourne if she thought of Benedict less, although
she was having little success on that front. “We both know what last night was
and what it wasn’t.”

Benedict gripped her arm and shook his head, his seriousness
frightening. “It’s not that. Camry wrote. Devonshire knows.”

Chapter Eleven

The news hit her like a blow. Sarah could feel the color drain from her face. She didn’t need to be told what Devonshire knew. If Camry had written, she could imagine it all too well. “I’m all done up, then.” Panic welled at hearing herself speak the words out loud. It tore up the column of her throat, and she felt as if she might scream. “No one will have me now.” What was she going to do? What was the family going to do? How would she get them through this until Ren could succeed? He’d only been gone a month. He’d need far more time than this to turn the sugar plantation around.

Benedict’s grip on her arm was firm, the only anchor in the sea of her whirling, panicking thoughts. “Don’t put the cart before the horse, Sarah. You’re overthinking things.” His voice was a stern command, the tone of reason. “Devonshire doesn’t intend to announce it. He intends to use it as leverage to ensure you accept his proposal.” It had only taken a discreet pound note or two to learn from Devonshire’s valet that Devonshire had brought a ring among his luggage and that he intended to ask her tonight before dinner.

Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth. “This is supposed to make me feel better? I am about to be blackmailed into marriage. Why? Why would he go to such lengths for a bride without a substantial dowry?”

Benedict shrugged, his hands fiddling distractedly with a twig. “Why does a man like Devonshire do anything? He loves his own sense of power. He once made someone vacate their box at the opera simply because he wanted their seats. You are the prize this Season, and he wants to win. He wants to win what Camry could not, what no man for four Seasons has been able to win—the beautiful Lady Sarah Dryden, with her wit and grace and impeccable bloodlines. You are the Season’s most exquisite game.”

Anger stung Benedict’s voice. “At least his pride would protect you from exposure. He wouldn’t dare let it slip you were in financial straits. He’ll deny Camry’s claims to his face in order to protect his own ego.”

The twig Benedict had been playing with suddenly snapped in his hands.

“So I am to accept him?” Fury seethed in every word. She had even less choice than she’d thought. In the beginning, she’d believed the choice would be hers, limited as it was. But now the choice had been removed from her entirely, stolen by the devious Devonshire. She didn’t want this, didn’t want the unfaithful, arrogant Devonshire. After last night, she could not imagine sharing her bed with anyone other than Benedict.

Benedict’s arm gripped the tree branch over her head and he leaned close, smelling of a river and a summer’s day, his eyes full of emerald fire, his voice hoarse with emotion. “No, damn it, Sarah, don’t accept him. Don’t accept any of them. Take me,
marry me
, Sarah. I will challenge anyone who dares to breathe a word against you.”

The Benedict who stood before her would, too, Sarah realized. He’d stand in the park at dawn every day of the week for a month and shoot them down one by one. She was struck numb by the intensity of his declaration. This was not the standard flippant remark she’d learned to expect from the insouciant rake he’d become. This was the old Benedict, the Benedict she’d fallen in love with.

If he kissed her, she’d be lost. She tried to back up, to create distance, but there was nowhere to go. Her derriere met the trunk of the tree. She needed time to think. Which one was the real Benedict? “I don’t know.” Sarah swallowed, stalling as her thoughts gathered. “I don’t know who you are anymore, Benedict. Are you the man I fell in love with or the rake you’ve become? You left me once. If I gave you my heart a second time, I would not survive another betrayal. Please respect that, Benedict. Please, don’t use me again.”

Tears stung at her eyes. She wanted to run. She was going to regret last night’s indiscretion in so many ways. It had absolutely destroyed her armor. The woman who had met him toe-to-toe in the office yesterday afternoon had melted. Where was her strength, her resolve, when she needed it? She was absolutely vulnerable. She would not stay here and let herself fall apart. Sarah pushed past him, forcing him to step aside.

She’d gone ten yards before his voice stopped her. “I never used you. I promised your father...something.”

Do not turn around.
Do not look at him.
You know what happened to Orpheus
, her conscience counseled. But she was no stronger than Orpheus in the end, her curiosity winning. She turned. He stood, his hand still gripping the branch overhead, his back to her, every muscle taut. “What did you promise my father?”

His head was bowed as he dragged in a ragged breath. “He made me promise to leave you alone. He said you were made for better men.”

Sarah took an involuntary step toward him. “When did he tell you this?”

“The day after Lady Wilton’s ball. I called on him to ask for your hand just as you and I had planned.”

Sarah struggled to assimilate the pieces, to grasp the import of what they meant. He’d come, he’d been refused. More than that, he’d been warned off. Did she dare believe him? “Why? My father liked you.” That part didn’t ring true and now her father was dead. He could not defend himself. It would be an easy, convincing tale to tell. No one could gainsay him.

“He liked me as a friend for Ren. He did not see me as a solvent match for his daughter.” There was pain in his voice as he relived those moments. Surely no one could feign such sorrow. But there was more than sorrow, there was embarrassment, the shame of having been found wanting by a man he’d cared for as a surrogate father.

She was utterly undone by the confession, her tears running freely. Sarah took the remaining steps between them and placed her cheek against his back. She wrapped her arms about him. His body shook with a ragged breath as he tried to curb his emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered, her own tears soaking into his jacket. But she knew why before he answered.

“Because I loved you and I knew how much you loved him. I couldn’t destroy that. I couldn’t make you choose between the two of us. Your family was like a rare gem to me after the dismal experience of mine. I did not want to be the one to sully such perfection.”

“And now?” Sarah breathed, hope daring to blossom slowly in place of the panic and fear.

“And now, I am arrogant enough to believe I might have something you need, something I can give you. Do I, Sarah?”

It would be so easy. Benedict might not have money, but marriage would stop the scandal, the rumors that she’d lured men to Sussex under false pretenses. But that was not what prompted her desire to answer. This was not about satisfying Society. This was about happiness, about satisfying herself. Did she dare say yes?

The sound of slow, exaggerated clapping interrupted her answer, and the bored cynicism of Devonshire’s drawl invaded the privacy of their glen. “Good God, DeBreed, is that how you talk about your cock these days?”

* * *

Benedict shoved Sarah behind him out of an instinctive need to protect. “This is not your concern,” he said harshly.

“I respectfully disagree. The woman to whom I would offer marriage is wrapped about one of London’s more infamous celebrities and he is wondering if he might have something she needs. No wonder all the women in London are hot for your prick, you’ve the devil’s own tongue, DeBreed. I have no doubt you could lay an entire convent in a night with lines like that. I don’t care, frankly, if you do. I just don’t want you laying my wife.”

He gave a smirk. “At least not without me. Perhaps after the honeymoon wears off we could do a little ménage à trois if you’re still interested, one of us at her mouth, one of us at her...”

Benedict’s fist got to Devonshire’s face before the word could fly. An ugly stream of saliva and blood spewed from his mouth. He was on Devonshire instantly, taking him to the ground with a bone-jarring thud, fists pummeling mercilessly until Devonshire moaned for mercy. “Apologize!” Benedict yelled, dragging Devonshire’s head up by his collar.

“I will not apologize to you.” Devonshire tried for a sneer around his bloodied lip. They were starting to draw a crowd. Devonshire would be dangerous with witnesses. Any number of damning things could come out of his mouth. It wouldn’t do Sarah any good to have avoided one scandal only to encounter another.

“Not to me, you fool,” Benedict spat. “To Lady Sarah Dryden. You will not slander her name within my hearing or I’ll break your nose.”

He felt Sarah’s hand on his arm and sanity began to overtake the rage that had driven him. “Let him up, as a wedding gift to me,” she said, loud enough to be heard. She looked out at the gathering crowd of guests and smiled. “The earl has just learned I’ve accepted Mr. DeBreed’s proposal of marriage.” The implication that he didn’t take the news well spoke for itself as two guests came forward to good-naturedly help Devonshire limp off down to the river to clean up. The moment was masterfully managed, so well done in fact, that the import did not register immediately with Benedict.

He staggered to his feet, his mind latching on to the odd words
as a wedding gift.
Good lord, that meant Sarah said yes. She agreed to marry him! He swept Sarah into his arms and kissed her hard. He did not care that the entire party looked on, or that this would be the subject of many letters hastily written back to London.

There were congratulations to accept and hands to shake. Annaliese and Teddy stood next to them as they patiently talked with the guests, giving the rather unorthodox episode a patina of respectability. But all Benedict wanted was to have Sarah to himself. Now that she was his, he found he didn’t want to share, not for a single moment.

The last to come forward was Brisbourne. He shook Benedict’s hand without reservation, leaning in with a wry smile. “Wish me luck, DeBreed. I hope to have good news of my own by supper.”

Benedict raised a knowing eyebrow. “Miss Elmore would be the lucky one.”

“I hope she thinks so.” Brisbourne grinned and went to join the guests, who were busy packing up their things for a return to the house in time to dress for the farewell dinner.

“Are you sure, Sarah?” Benedict took her hand and walked them apart from the activity of the group. In the aftermath of Devonshire’s interruption it had occurred to him she might have said it to mitigate the scene.

Sarah’s eyes were somber as she stopped walking and faced him. “Am I sure? Absolutely. Am I scared? Yes. I haven’t any money to speak of, Benedict, and I have a family to support until Ren can work his magic.”

“I know.” Benedict smiled. “It’s me, remember? I know you. There are no secrets between us, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It will be hard. People will talk. Camry and Devonshire won’t make it easy,” Sarah said.

He put a finger to her lips. “This is not a surprise to me. I’m willing to weather it.” He smiled. Now was the time to tell her his other piece of news, the news he’d been saving for just the right moment. “It might not be as hard as you think. Do you recall Caron’s heir has trouble holding on to property?”

“Yes,” she said slowly, her brow knitting as she tried to guess the direction of the conversation. He didn’t blame her. Yesterday seemed a lifetime ago.

“He happened to lose a tin mine in a card game a few days ago and he happened to lose it to me.” It had been a terribly high-stakes game and not without great risk to himself, too, but he’d had to do something. Sarah was desperate. He would have mortgaged his soul for her once he knew how bad the Dryden situation was.

Sarah swallowed hard, her eyes seeing far more than his words had told her. “You were coming for me with or without the scandal.” Her voice cracked a little with emotion.

He nodded solemnly. “I couldn’t let you face this alone, not when I could do something about it for the first time in years. But I couldn’t come empty-handed.”

She cocked her head and gave him a mischievous look. “You didn’t say anything about the tin mine until now.”

“I meant to. I mean to plead my case in very practical terms, terms a pragmatic woman like yourself would understand. But when I walked into that drawing room and saw you sitting there, your mind tallying up everyone’s net worth, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to be another walking pound sign. I wanted you to see me as more than a means to an end.”

Sarah stepped close, her arms going about his neck. “And so you decided to persuade me to make a different choice—to marry for love instead of money.”

Benedict placed a soft kiss on her lips. “It was a little more selfish than that. I wanted you to marry me instead of them.”

Her blue eyes danced. “I might need a little more persuasion.”

Benedict laughed, his joy too great to be contained. “I’ll persuade you every night for the rest of our lives.”