Free The Major's Faux Fiancee by Erica Ridley

glances toward Captain Steele.
    Bartholomew’s eyes narrowed. From the looks of it, Whitfield might offer for Daphne right here at the breakfast table, without any eye to propriety or common sense. Or was that the wiser move? Now that both Lambley and Fairfax were out of the way, ’twas simply a question of which would-be suitor stated his case first.
    Whitfield opened his mouth.
    Bartholomew leapt to his feet. “Steele, may I speak with you privately?”
    The pirate arched a thick black eyebrow as he chewed a mouthful of food. “At this precise moment?”
    “If you’d be so kind.” Bartholomew’s fingers brushed against Daphne’s shoulder to indicate it was time. He had promised to help, and he intended to keep his word. Whitfield was a good lad, but he wasn’t the right man for Daphne. She deserved a better partner. A love match.
    Captain Steele set down his fork. “Very well, then. Come to my office. Shall we meet alone, or should Miss Vaughan join us?”
    The fire in Daphne’s eyes at the reference to “his office” indicated there was no chance she’d stay away. She rose to her feet. “I’ll join you in Father’s study.”
    The pirate led the way, his swagger and amused grin indicating he enjoyed having others dangle upon his strings.
    When they reached the vicar’s study, Captain Steele settled himself behind the desk and stroked the salt-and-pepper stubble along his scarred jaw. “Now, then. How may I be of service?”
    “Enough with the games.” Bartholomew wished he had a sword. Captain Steele was a hard man. He would respect decisiveness, not sycophancy. Bartholomew drew himself to his full height and glared down at the pirate. “You want Daphne off your hands. I wish to oblige. Let’s settle this and move on.”
    Steele’s eyes danced merrily. “Well, that’s certainly romantic. Minus the compliments and flowers and avowals of love, of course, but since my own entanglements tend more toward wrapping an arm around the closest tavern wench, I must and do commend your efforts. I also award you special consideration for making the trek all the way from London to Kent to press your case.”
    “I don’t want special consideration,” Bartholomew bit out. “I want—”
    “You want Miss Vaughan. Yes. So you’ve mentioned. With all the eloquence of a stampeding bull.” Captain Steele rolled his eyes toward Daphne. “I suppose you find yourself so overcome with emotion by this heartfelt proposal that you’ll quite literally die if I don’t accept his suit in favor of a better candidate?”
    “One of us will.” Daphne crossed her arms and scowled at him. “I shouldn’t sleep with my door unlocked if I were you.”
    “Now, now. Is that any way for a vicar’s daughter to speak to her elder? I’m shocked. Shocked . And not at all certain the two of you are remotely suited for matrimony.”
    Bartholomew smiled tightly. “Your experience in the matter being…”
    “True. You make a fine point, Major. So here are mine.” Steele ticked them off on his fingers. “We will sign not one, but two copies of the marriage contract. Miss Vaughan, you get neither. I don’t trust vicars or their daughters. The first copy is mine, and the second copy goes to the major so that he does not forget his duties. Which are: having the first banns read tomorrow morning, concluding the marriage ceremony by the end of February—”
    “But it is February,” Daphne interrupted. “Today is the third, which gives us less than four weeks to—”
    “—accomplish what only requires a fortnight to do,” Captain Steele concluded. He held up his last finger without missing a beat. “Finally, you’re to take the lass from my sight as soon as possible. She’s mouthy and opinionated. Two of the worst possible traits a female can have.”
    Bartholomew allowed the outrage to show on his countenance, but nudged Daphne’s toe with his own. They’d done it!
    All they had to do was stall the wedding until Daphne