The Duke Wears Nada by USA Today Bestselling Author Barbara Devlin is the ninth book in the Brethren of the Coast series and is an epic love story. This installment brings together Damian Seymour and Lucy Teversham, two people who are destined to be together if they can overcome Lucy’s past.
How will Damian respond when the woman he loves is haunted by her fears? Will he put his honor first? Can they accept whatever discoveries are made?
Each book is layered with characters from previous books, a treat for any devoted reader. It’s time to set sail and discover why I fell in love with Barbara Devlin and her sexy knights and pirates.
If you are looking for a story that is emotionally satisfying and leaves you wanting more, download this now. Beloved fans, if you have devoured each and everyone, this one is a gem. I prefer to read them in order, but there is not right or wrong way as each can be read as a standalone. Sit back, download a few and let me know who your favorite sexy knight is. There are just so many to choose from! For me, I’m always ready to dive into a romance where our beloved heroine wears glasses. This was no exception!
I received an ARC for a fair and honest review and happily purchased my copy.
A dull painting of some long dead ancestor served as a functional balm to the disconcerting thoughts that swirled in Damian’s brain, as well as the ache below his belly button, as he joined Blake in the study, for a brandy and men’s talk. At least, in the masculine domain marked by leather wall inserts, a Harrison chronometer, and the tinge of cigar smoke, Damian did not need to worry about an interrogation on such scintillating topics as courtship and marriage.
“It is remarkably pleasing to see you, brother, as it has been since the end of January, when last we gathered at Elliott House.” Blake handed Damian a drink and eased to a leather high-back chair. “So, how long have you been in love with Lucy?”
“I am not in love with her.” Damian tugged on his cravat. “She is possessed of keen intelligence.”
“Indeed, she is.”
“And she is a devil of a fisherman.”
“Indeed, she is.”
“She is blessed with sharp wit.”
“Again, you are correct. Yet, none of that fits your usual requirements.” Blake smirked. “So tell me, just the same, when she captured your special attention.”
“I beg your pardon?” For all of two seconds, Damian panicked. Just as quick, he tamped his anxiety, studied the polished toes of his Hessians, and composed himself. “Will you be serious?”
“At four and thirty, I am set in my ways, thus my query should not surprise you.” Blake snickered. “And you have it bad, my friend, thus it is my turn to gloat, and gloat I shall.”
“I submit you have spent too much time in your wife’s company, because you sound like a matchmaking mama.” Perhaps Damian should have remained at Penhurst. “And if memory serves, I supported you in your conquest to win Lenore.”
“Not without the customary ribbing that often accompanies the shark infested waters known as courtship, when I thought you might forgo such childish nonsense.” Blake assessed his fingernails and narrowed his stare. “Thus I believe it only fair to return the favor. And did I not warn you about the younger Miss Teversham, in Portsea?”
“You did.” And Blake’s powers of foresight still irked Damian. “But I had hoped you might rise above childish sport.”
“A-ha.” The leader of the Brethren slapped his thighs. “I am correct in my assertion, and do not try to deny it. Wait until I tell Lenore, as she made me swear to keelhaul you, if you ruined Lucy.”
“There is nothing to deny, because there is nothing between us.” Why could Damian not confide in Blake? What kept Damian silent, when he had shared every single conquest with a man who could not be more a sibling were they bound by blood? “And you would side with Lenore over me?”
“When you are married, you will understand that the bond between a husband and a wife supersedes all else, and you never want to anger your bride, or you could end up sleeping on the daybed in your study.” Then Blake coughed. “Not that I know what that is like, but I submit I could never strike you, so you need not worry. Now, tell me why you frown.”
“Am I that obvious?” When Blake rolled his eyes, Damian groaned. As the mantel clock ticked in a steady rhythm, he reflected on Lucy’s peculiar behavior. “Has Lenore mentioned anything that might be troubling her sister?”
“No.” Blake shifted and leaned against the armrest. “Why do you ask?”
“Because there is something distant in her manner, something new and bothersome, but she will not confide in me.” Or was it a recent development? Given Lucy’s changed demeanor after her kidnapping, she possessed a forlorn undercurrent that drew him to her, as he ached to rescue her from her desolation and despair and restore her ebullient smile, much absent of late. “When we first met, Lucy boasted a seemingly endless supply of energy mixed with joy. However, upon her return from her captivity, she struck me as more mature, yet I am convinced there is more to it.”
“And that is when you commenced the chase.” Propped on an elbow, Blake rested his chin in his hand. “How far have you progressed beyond illicit kisses, that I might smooth my wife’s ruffled feathers?”
“What makes you think I have kissed Lucy?” In mock affront, Damian sniffed and tugged on the lace edge of his sleeve. “As we are just friends.”
“Brother, do I look like I was born yesterday?” Blake arched a brow, and Damian realized his goose was cooked. “When you arrived, with my sister-in-law firmly planted in your lap, she bore telltale swollen lips, a blush in her cheeks, and she could not meet my gaze, evidencing a well-ravished woman. So, shall we dispense with the charade?”
“You exaggerate.” Yet, Damian yearned to savor Lucy’s mouth, as she gave vent to her sweet little moans of pleasure, which she did several times, as they navigated the graveled drive to the main entrance. “It was naught but a simple, welcoming exchange between acquaintances.”
“Is that really your story?” Blake choked on his brandy. “Because I have acquaintances too numerous to count, and we do not exchange welcomes like that.”
“You are too witty, brother.” In the future, Damian would exercise more restraint. Then again, given his love of logic, he doubted his ability to resist Lucy. “But I would argue you are more sensitive to her condition, in light of your familial connections, and you weave unsustainable inferences from whole cloth.”
“You honestly think you are fooling me.” It was a statement, not a question. Blinking, Blake sputtered. “Do you not realize your refusal to share the details only confirms my suspicions?”
“Because you did the same thing with Lenore.” The fog cleared, and Damian discovered, too late, that his conclusion confirmed Blake’s suppositions. “Then again, I am nothing if not discreet.”
“Oh, I see.” Why did Blake’s smile raise the hair on the back of Damian’s neck? “It was prudence that led you to weigh anchor in Lady Wilhelmina’s harbor, in my box at the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane. Or the time you sailed Lady Amelia’s middle passage, on the desk in my study at Elliott House, during Mama’s birthday celebration. Then there was the afternoon I found you naked as the day you were born, with Lady Julia, atop the table in my quarters aboard the Tristan. And then—”
“That is quite enough, and I get your meaning.” Frustrated, Damian pushed from the chair and paced before the hearth, a habit he loathed and often eschewed, as it indicated a lack of control, but he had to do something, else he might run amok. Still, he was unprepared to dissect his feelings for Lucy. “Let me assure you that I care naught for Miss Lucilla, as she is a bespectacled, unpolished termagant destined to become the next Lady Hester Stanhope. Indeed, Lucy possesses naught to recommend her, other than her substantial dowry, of which I have no need, and her newfound familial connections, which I already share.”
Bestselling author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller. A Texan, through and through, Barbara hasn’t been without a book in her possession since she was in kindergarten. She wrote her first short story, a really cheesy murder-mystery, in high school, but it was a Christmas gift, a lovely little diary with a bronze lock, given to her in the fifth grade that truly inspired her love of writing.
After completing part of her undergraduate studies at the University of London, where she developed a love of all things British, Barbara returned home and began a career in banking. But the late 80s weren’t too promising for the financial industry, and every bank that hired Barbara soon folded. So she searched for a stable occupation, and the local police department offered the answer to her prayers.
Initially, Barbara wasn’t too sure about her new career in law enforcement, but she soon came to love being a police officer. And then one uncharacteristically cold and icy day in December 1998, Barbara was struck by a car and pinned against a guardrail while working an accident on a major highway. Permanently disabled, she retired from the police department and devoted her time and energy to physical therapy.
Once Barbara got back on her feet, she focused on a new career in academia. She earned an MA in English and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren of the Coast.
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I’ve attached a list of all the books linked to my previously posted reviews Barbara’s books.
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