A Convenient Bride (18 page)

A
shiver slipped down her spine. The emotion in his words left her troubled. She had to pray Anne was hale and happy. The idea of raising her child alone, after Richard was hanged for the murder of Mister Lockley, knotted her stomach.

“You must put aside the notion of killing the man,” she scolded. “And keep your mind looking for the positive. For now you must accept that your steward is still searching for her and all will be well.”

He looked at her sidelong. “I do not remember you seeing the world with such optimism,” he said, his tone flat. “I thought you a bit of a termagant from our first meeting.”

Her thoughts turned dark. “How dare you call me shrewish? I am a woman of good humor. It was your grim expressions and grumbles that were the source of my sour moods. Anyone who had to spend that many days traveling with you would feel the same.”

“I had very little cause to be happy,” he admitted, to her surprise. He pulled his hand free. “Even you could not expect levity when my sister was missing at the hands of a letch. I think a sour mood was acceptable, considering the situation.”

Brenna sat for a long pause, processing his comment. She
knew he was not talking only about his missing sister. Much of his history was bleak. There
was
very little in his life for him to smile about.

Finally, she said, “I vow to change that, Husband. I intend to bring laughter into this household. Our child will not be raised in a grim mausoleum.”

She rose and left him to take her words as he would.

They both needed happiness. It was some months since she’d laughed wholeheartedly just for the sheer joy of doing so. It was Lucy and her teasing that kept her from becoming quite sour.

Though she’d been out of sorts and angry after learning of Simon’s plans to wed her to Lord Abbot, she vowed to reclaim her joy. She was married to a man she, oddly enough, felt great affection for and was about to be a mother. What was there not to be happy about?

R
ichard stared out the open door. His wife had not lost her headstrong nature. Though she’d accepted Miriam’s and Bethany’s places at the head of the table without comment, he’d seen the agitation in her eyes. The two women had no idea what a formidable foe they had in his wife. If they expected weakness in the city-born Brenna, they would soon learn their mistake.

For a moment, he considered warning the pair, then changed his mind.

Bethany had gotten too used to playing mistress of the house, and Miriam, well, he was not entirely sure what went on in her head. Whatever their plans had been regarding him had been shattered with Brenna’s arrival. It would be interesting to see how this all played out.

He smiled. Lud help the person who underestimated his bride.

“Can I get you anything else, My Lord?” the maid asked, turning his attention back to the moment.

“No thank you, Fanny. I feel the need for a ride this morning. Can you ask one of the footmen to call for my horse?”

“Yes, Milord.” She curtsied and trotted off.

A ride on this cool fall morning would go far to clear his head. Brenna’s arrival and the surprising news of the babe left him unsettled. Wanting her with stunning intensity was not the same as loving her or wanting the marriage.

And he knew that not all women died in childbirth. It was the almost violent nature of Millicent’s death that gave him nightmares for a long time afterward.

He’d loved her as one loves a childhood friend. Now, years later, he still couldn’t shake the irrational fear that he might fall in love with, and lose, Brenna.

He wasn’t certain he could survive it.

W
ith Lucy keeping her company and acting as a watchdog of sorts, Brenna—with the help of Mrs. Beal and the butler, Joseph, who had found a map of the hall buried in Andrew’s desk—was off.

Brenna and Lucy took almost three hours exploring the upper two floors, including the attic, even chasing a mouse, leading Brenna to make a note to request more household cats.

“I do so hate those little creatures. I would be content to leave them be if they just stayed outside,” she said, climbing off the chair after Lucy chased it under a wardrobe.

“Let us pray there are no rats,” Lucy remarked dryly.

Brenna grimaced. “Do not tease.”

Lucy giggled. “I am surprised there is even one mouse. This house is so clean that even the dust motes are fearful of making an appearance, lest they end up in the ash bin.”

Looking around the upstairs parlor, Brenna nodded. “I wonder what the maids would do if I left my stockings scattered on the floor?”

A male voice interrupted. “You would be locked in the closet until you vowed to pick up after yourself.”

Brenna startled, and Lucy squeaked. They spun around in unison to see Richard standing in the open doorway.

Wearing dusty riding clothes, Brenna’s heart fluttered as she scanned his handsome face.

“Mrs. Beal worried you might have become lost, and I offered to launch a search.” He stepped into the room and
walked over to Brenna. He looked down at the map in her hand. “Are you enjoying your exploration?”

“Very much so,” Brenna replied, holding his gaze. “There is much to discover.”

Richard looked around the room, allowing her to examine his profile. He had the small scar under his left eye and a few crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Both gave him a rakish air.

When his attention returned to her, he locked onto her gaze. Brenna wetted her bottom lip with her tongue. Richard watched the movement with great interest. Brenna stopped breathing.

Lucy cleared her throat. “I’d forgotten that I was to help Mrs. Beal with…something. Perhaps we can continue our tour after lunch?” Without waiting for a reply, Lucy sent her a knowing look and hurried out the door.

“You have an interesting companion,” Richard said, frowning. “Wherever did you find her?”

“She has decided to match us,” Brenna admitted, ignoring his question. Lucy’s past was their secret. “She has a romantic heart.”

“Hmm.” He moved closer. “I thought we were already matched.” He reached out to finger the ribbon at her waist. “I think the child is proof of that.”

Brenna wanted to slip her hands around his waist and bury her face in his dusty coat. “Strangers marry. Romantics hope for the emotional attachment. Love.”

“Romeo and Juliet had romantic love,” he offered. “See what that got them.”

Smiling, Brenna shook her head. “You truly are a man who keeps his heart carefully guarded.”

“It is better than the man who thinks he loves every woman who crosses his path. That man is a fool.”

She thought for a moment. She knew such men. “Perhaps.” A movement caught her eye. The mouse had darted out from under the wardrobe and was running along the wall to the door. She squawked and scrambled back onto the recently vacated chair.

Richard spun around. Clearly not knowing what to expect, he backed up to shield her from harm. She grabbed the
shoulder of his coat with one hand and pointed a shaky finger with the other.

“Mouse!” Brenna cried, as the furry body scurried from beneath the wardrobe to the open doorway and vanished out the door.

The tension in his body eased. It took another moment to realize he was shaking. At first she thought perhaps the mouse had frightened him, also, until she realized he was laughing.

She smacked him on the shoulder. “This is not funny. Have you ever had a mouse run up your skirt?” He turned, his chuckle filling the room. Cad. “Well, I have. It is positively terrifying.”

He shook his head and scooped her into his arms. “It isn’t the mouse that amuses me, my dear, it is knowing that my fearless wife can be terrorized by a creature small enough to fit into a teacup.”

She wanted to struggle, but the fear of the mouse returning kept her from demanding release. “When an eight-year-old girl suffers the feel of tiny claws climbing up her stocking, she should not be ridiculed for her girlish screams.”

“I assume you are speaking of your brothers?”

She scowled. “They are an unsympathetic pair; Simon more than Gabriel. He did enjoy tormenting me for my fear. I still think he was working together with that mouse.”

Richard chuckled again, and Brenna realized that although it was at her expense, she liked the sound. He seldom found amusement around her, and she silently thanked the mouse for its intervention on her behalf.

Perhaps she should skip adding more cats to the household.

Taking advantage of the turn of events, she snuggled against him and pressed her face against his neck. He smelled of spice and outdoors.

“Do you think the mouse is gone?” she asked. He murmured something to the affirmative but did not release her. She played with his hair. “I certainly hope so. Maybe you should hold me for another minute in case it returns.”

If he sensed her game, he said nothing. The clock clicked for a moment. Then, “I believe you are safe now.” Slowly, he lowered her to the floor.

Disappointment welled. Still, she’d stolen a moment and would be satisfied with that. For now.

Stepping back, she met his eyes. “I should find Lucy and continue the tour.”

Richard tucked her hand under his arm. “Not until you’ve eaten. I’ll not have you starve my child.”

The concern in his voice sent a rush of warmth through her bones. She smiled. “I promise not to miss a single meal, My Lord. Our babe will be born plump and hearty.”

Those words came back to haunt her a week later when the chamber pot became her most treasured companion.

B
renna brushed her hair back from her face and slowly pushed, wobbling, to her feet. “I wish I had not eaten those eggs for breakfast.” She walked to the basin to clean her teeth while Lucy watched.

“Poor dear,” Lucy said. “You are so pale.”

Peering in the mirror, Brenna grimaced. There was no color in her cheeks. “The last two mornings have been trying. But it does not stop with the arrival of the noon hour.”

“I thought pregnancy nausea only came in the morning?”

“Morning, afternoon, evening,” Brenna grumbled. “I spent most of last evening racing for the chamber pot. We must ask Cook not to make pickled fish.”

Lucy bit her lip. “I will make a note to tell her.”

Beneath her gown, Brenna’s stomach recoiled. It took all her will not to return to the pot. “You will understand my misery when you are caught with a child of your own. I certainly do not look forward to the months ahead.”

Lucy walked over and put her hands on her friend’s shoulders. “I shall ask that your breakfast be limited to toast and tea. Eggs shall be banned from your plate.”

Brenna smiled and turned to hug her friend. “What would I do without you?”

“It will be another week or two before you have to find out,” Lucy replied. “I should hear from Franklin soon.”

The idea of losing Lucy was disheartening. But she would not be selfish and voice her regrets aloud. Lucy had her own family to build. She could not live here at the hall forever.

“Have you heard from your husband?”

“I have only that one letter. I assume he is still in France and will return by the end of the month.”

Part of Brenna hoped his return would be delayed, but she squashed the wish. Though Bethany and Miriam had been on good behavior, she’d seen them whispering together and sending unhappy glances her way when they thought she wasn’t looking. She worried that they were plotting some misdeeds and liked that Lucy was watching over her.

She took Lucy’s hands and smiled brightly for her friend. “We shall pray he finds a swift ship home.”

The rest of the morning was spent going over the menu for the week and banning fish and eggs. Brenna also made an effort to talk to the maids and footmen, trying to set names to faces. It wasn’t easy, as there were so many, but she felt she had most of it conquered by lunch.

“I don’t know why you concern yourself with knowing their names,” Bethany said, as she daintily nibbled a pastry. “ ‘You there’ has always worked well for me.”

Bethany was quite a snob.

“Funny,” Brenna said. “I have always found using someone’s proper name more productive when making a request than a grunt and finger point.”

A snort sounded from the direction of the waiting footmen, but when she and Bethany glanced over, there was no hint of guilt on the trio of set faces.

Bethany glared at each in turn. Brenna smiled at the men and quickly regained her sober expression before the woman turned back.

“I have learned from my mother’s teachings,” Brenna continued, “that the staff is more amiable when treated with respect.”

The woman stared at Brenna as though she were a blithering idiot, then said, “Perhaps the threat of dismissal would work just as well.”

Brenna had no time to answer the ridiculous comment. She reached for her teacup, and the staff set upon her as if she were the queen.

“Would you care for more tea, My Lady? Is the pudding to your liking? Perhaps I can find you a tart. Cook makes
excellent tarts.” This went on and on for several minutes, as each servant who’d overheard her exchange with Bethany offered to assist in her comfort, while Bethany couldn’t get even another sugar for her tea.

Richard joined them. He stared at the effusive staff with puzzlement while Bethany stewed.

And Brenna watched it all with serenity on her face. The other woman finally stood, threw down her napkin, and quit the room.

“Should I dare ask what has brought this overwhelming display of devotion?” Richard asked.

Her sweeping smile encompassed the staff, and they smiled in return. “I have set in place a new rule. All servants must be called by their names. Anyone who fails to adhere to this rule will be sent on their way.”

Brenna braced herself for his objection. Instead, he nodded. “That is an excellent rule. I do prefer my staff be treated with respect.”

She beamed. She had won her first battle with the support of her husband, though it was won without one shot fired.

“Thank you.”

Richard shrugged and reached for his newspaper. “This is your home, Brenna. If you’d like to pass a rule that we all come to meals in our nightclothes, I shall make sure mine are pressed.”