Becket's Last Stand. Кейси Майклс
to London for a Season, she’d have half the eligible gentlemen clogging up my drawing room every day. Maybe all of them.”
“And that’s where she belongs,” Courtland declared hotly, wishing he didn’t sound so angry. “Not here, not with me. Fanny was the same way with Rian, believing herself in love with him, until she met Valentine. Proximity. That’s all it is, but Cassandra refuses to believe me when I tell her so.”
“Which you do, daily,” Chance pointed out, accepting a second mug from Ivan. “You know, our Alice is only ten now, but females, I believe, are females. And do you know what I’ve learned from my daughter? The more I tell her she shouldn’t have something, the more she wants it.”
“Meaning?”
Chance shrugged. “Meaning, brother mine, that maybe it’s time you stopped protesting so much. Give Callie a small taste of your attention—and not the doting uncle, brother, father, whatever you think you are, but the man. Once you stop treating her like a child, perhaps she’ll stop acting like one, and leave you alone.”
“Do you hear yourself? What you’re suggesting? I can’t do that. My God, man, she’s Ainsley’s daughter.”
“I’m aware of who she is. I can remember Isabella. God, she was beautiful. Inside and out. I was mad for her at seventeen, and so were you, following her like a puppy hoping for a treat. That’s probably how Callie sees you. I don’t know why, you’re such a stodgy old nag, but she truly believes herself in love with you.”
“Who’s in love with whom?” Rian Becket said, pulling out a chair and sitting himself down even as Ivan brought him a mug of ale. Even mussed, coated with road dust, he had the look of a young Greek god. “Tell me everything, and don’t leave out any of the juicy bits. Quick, before Ethan comes in to tell you how I fell off Miranda and bruised my pride.”
“You fell off a horse?” Courtland looked at his brother, visually checking for injuries. “You’ve never fallen off a horse. Rian, maybe you’re pushing too hard.”
“And there she goes—Mama Courtland, believing herself in charge of everyone,” Chance said, lifting his mug. “Rian lost an arm, not his wits. He’ll master the horse, just give him time. And a few falls, if that’s what’s needed.”
“Thank you, Chance,” Rian said, grinning at Courtland. “Now, who’s in love with whom? And note my use of whom, which I think reflects very well on Ainsley’s incessant lessons over the years.”
“Callie thinks she’s in love with Court here,” Chance supplied quickly.
“Pfft! And here I thought you were going to tell me something that isn’t already abundantly clear to everyone, and has been since the little hellion entered her teenage years.”
“You know,” Courtland said sourly, “I came here to drink alone. I should have known better.”
“Never drink alone, Court,” Rian warned him. “Not when we’re here, more than ready to increase your misery. Did you know the ladies have been giving Callie lessons in how to seduce you? Lisette told me last night. Her contribution, by the way, was to tell Callie to toss any maidenly shyness to the four winds. I blush to think what else she said, and didn’t repeat to me. When it comes to love, women hold all the cards, and we men can only pretend to have any say in the matter. Hullo again, Ethan. What kept you?”
“Your Miranda seems to have picked up a stone,” the Earl of Aylesford said, seating himself. Having ridden the same roads as Rian and Chance, Ethan looked as if he’d just finished a long session with his valet; nattily dressed, every blond hair sleekly brushed back from his finely-boned face. A man could look at him and see a well-dressed, amiable fool of fashion—and that man would very, very wrong. “I walked her up to Jasper at the smithy. I’d like to say he met me halfway, carried Miranda on his back the rest of the way, but none of you is probably deep enough in your cups yet to believe me.”
“Don’t think my giant couldn’t do it, if pressed,” Rian said, grinning. “Have I told you how he carried both Lisette and me out of that burning house, running with us both as if we were no heavier than feathers?”
“Twice,” Courtland said.
“Three times, at the least,” Chance added. “Although I still chuckle over the cannon, I’ll give you that.”
“No matter what, he’s quite a find,” Ethan said. “And I’d trust any of my horseflesh to him. In fact, I’ve already considered stealing him away from Waylon, who promised to break my head if I so much as tried.”
“The day may come when Jasper does take you up on the offer to be part of your horse farm, Ethan,” Court¬ land said, trying to keep the men concentrated on any subject other than him and Cassandra. “Once everyone feels free to leave Romney Marsh, much of this village may cease to exist, having served its purpose.”
It was a valiant try, but Chance must have seen through it, for he said, “Court is all a-twitter because Callie might be sailing off to Hampton Roads with Ainsley, leaving him to molder here, dying of a broken heart.”
“Oh, for the love of God—” Courtland got to his feet, pushing back his chair with some force. “When did I become an object of amusement to you all? This isn’t funny. I think Cassandra may be out to…to seduce me.”
“I think so, too,” Chance said, and looked to Rian. “You?”
“Oh, yes, definitely,” Rian said, smiling up at Courtland. “Shall we have a drink to the shameless little minx?”
“Spence and I discussed just this subject last night,” Ethan told them, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand—an earl in name, but not one who worried overmuch about his manners when out of sight of the society he wished to have believe him a fool. “We’re considering placing bets as to the timing of the thing, actually. We’ve tentatively settled on fifty pounds to the winner. Court? I give you two weeks before you succumb. Spence says a full month, but we all know he’s never right about anything. At least I hope so.”
“Three weeks, and we each ante up fifty pounds for the winner,” Chance said, holding out his hand. “Rian?”
“Chance took my guess,” he said, winking at his brother. “Very well, fifteen days. I could say thirteen, but our dear brother is made of sterner stuff. Aren’t you, Court?”
Courtland sat down again, with a thump. “Aren’t any of you the least bit concerned that Cassandra is, in all but blood, my sister?”
They all looked to one another and answered almost as one.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Callie doesn’t seem to be put off by it—or that ridiculous beard.”
“I can’t speak for myself, having only married into the family,” Ethan said, “but Morgan seems to think you and Callie are fated. And my wife, I warn you, is not averse to helping Dame Fate along, when she thinks it appropriate.”
“I know what it is,” Chance said when Courtland glowered at them, one after the other. “You think Ainsley wouldn’t approve. God, Court, the man thinks the sun rises and sets on you. You really should be embarrassed.”
“He thinks the sun rises and sets on all of us,” Courtland said, feeling his cheeks growing hot, for Ainsley’s approval was all he’d ever wanted out of life, ever since the day the man had saved that life. “We’ve all been very, very lucky to have him.”
“Even when he thinks we should all leave him before Edmund Beales makes his move, get as far from him as possible. Save ourselves.” Chance balled his hands into fists. “Sometimes I just want to knock him down.”
“He’s a father, Chance,” Ethan said quietly. “Just as you and I are fathers. What would you do if you believed having your children with you needlessly exposed them to danger?”
“You