“No, and I don’t plan on telling her until we are wed.”
Trey nodded. In accordance with the charter, members were sworn to secrecy, and only spouses could be told about the real purpose and history of the elite organization that was centuries old.
Brandon was glad that if necessary he could call on support from the Guardians, since he now had an uneasy feeling about this mission. Given his bad blood with Louvel, successfully resolving the issues of the shipwreck was not only less likely, but walking into this particular pirates’ den could prove dangerous for Kate, and even put her life at risk along with his own.
Yet as he had promised her brother, he would do everything in his power to keep her safe. And as he had promised himself, he would use the opportunity to convince Kate that her future was with him as his wife.
—
The final week before their departure was a whirlwind of activity for Kate. Planning the final details of the journey, preparing for Nell’s wedding to Mr. Horatio Underwood, wrapping up social engagements, and saying farewells while pretending to celebrate her own betrothal occupied her every waking moment.
The biggest surprise, however, was the change she noticed in Deverill: He matched his circumspection in private with his circumspection in public. There was nothing risqué or untoward in any of his actions, and no physical contact whatsoever.
Not that she trusted his apparent conversion. He might be making an attempt to behave, yet he couldn’t change his intrinsic nature. It was only prudent to question his motives. And regardless of his restraint, the attraction between them was still there in spades, sizzling beneath the surface. Merely a look from Deverill still made Kate’s stomach flutter and her pulse race. Indeed, now that she knew the sensual pleasure he could give her, she craved his touch even when she knew her desire drastically weakened her willpower.
Ironically, she couldn’t quell her discontent at this softer, tamer, more gentlemanly version of Deverill.
Take, for example, his initial meeting with her uncle Cornelius and aunt Rachel when they arrived in London for the wedding. Deverill was the epitome of a perfect suitor, not only conducting an overt courtship for their benefit, Kate observed, but appealing to her scholarly uncle’s intellect and thoroughly charming Rachel, who had only become a member of the Wilde family last year, and who was wary of most noblemen because of her difficult past with her brute of a late husband. By week’s end, both her uncle and aunt were clearly enamored of Deverill.
On the day of the wedding, the weather cooperated and sunlight filled the church. Plump, middle-aged Nell looked beautiful, dressed in a pale blue gown with an overskirt of ivory lace while beaming with joy. And Mr. Underwood was clearly besotted with his bride. Kate found herself weeping happy tears as she watched their vows being spoken.
Sitting beside her, Deverill silently handed her his handkerchief. “Why the devil are you crying?” he murmured as the bride and groom walked together down the aisle, accepting felicitations from the guests.
“I don’t really know,” Kate said, sniffing. “I suppose because Nell’s first marriage was arranged against her wishes, and during her widowhood, she struggled financially. She is truly a good person and deserves the best life has to offer.” Kate wiped her eyes. “I am wildly happy for her, even if I am sad for myself at losing her as my companion. I will miss her terribly.”
“You should be pleased that you matched them. Even I can see how much in love they are.” Deverill gave a soft chuckle. “I confess, it has a charming appeal. I am not accustomed to weddings where the bridal couple is in love.”
“A pity,” Kate replied before being struck by a sudden realization. Deverill was making an effort to share his feelings, just as she had asked of him. Perhaps she was being too quick to suspect him of insincerity, or worse, some sort of furtive calculation. Perhaps, after all, he was striving to be the suitor she wanted, without any hidden purpose in mind.
The wedding breakfast after the ceremony was held at the Beaufort mansion in Grosvenor Square. When the guests had assembled in the drawing room, Kate had a moment to speak to Daphne, who shared a secret with Rachel, although few people besides the Wildes knew of it.
“I wish to apologize, Daphne,” Kate said in a low voice. “You must think me a grasping dunce for trying to pair you with Lord Valmere, only to become engaged to him myself the same evening. It was unkind of me to raise your hopes.”
Surprisingly, Daphne gave a laugh. “Not at all. My hopes were never raised. Valmere made it clear from the first that he had his sights set on you.”
Kate glanced across the room at Deverill, who was conversing with her brother, Ash. “He did?”
“Yes, indeed. I took his hints as a warning not to assume too much regarding his attentions. It is you he wants, Kate, not I.”
Maura joined them just then, in time to overhear Daphne’s last remark. When Daphne left, Maura gave Kate a sober look. “If he wants you that keenly, I hope it is for the right reasons. I know you said this betrothal was temporary, Kate, but I worry that you might lose your heart to him irrevocably this time and invite an even worse case of unrequited love.”
Kate took a deep breath. “I promise I won’t,” she vowed. “I well know the dangers.”
Yet Kate knew Maura was right. She couldn’t let her longing for love with Deverill make her blind to reality or expose her to fresh pain.
The trouble was that barely two hours later, directly after the company had partaken of a grand wedding feast, Deverill approached her with a
small velvet box.
“I have a betrothal gift for you,” he said, opening the box to display a pendant on a delicate gold chain. “St. Nicholas is the patron saint of sailors. This medallion is supposed to keep you safe at sea. You can wear it on our voyage.”
Kate felt her heart melting. “It is lovely,” she murmured, accepting the box with delight and awe. Deverill had remembered her morbid fear of sailing and wanted to reassure her and buck up her confidence.
“Turn around. I will help you put it on.”
When she complied, he draped the necklace around her neck and fastened the clasp.
The light brush of his fingers against her nape sent a jolt of sensation through Kate, yet for once she didn’t think it was a deliberate ploy on his part to gain physical mastery over her. Deverill had not tried to get her alone. On the contrary, they were standing in a crowded, noisy room filled with wedding guests and servants.