A Convenient Bride (15 page)

They chatted about Brenna’s impending trip and what life would be like at the hall. “I shall soon be the Lady of the Sheep,” Brenna groaned. “The whirl of London will soon be a distant memory.”

Lucy giggled. “You make it sound positively grim.”

“How can I look at this any other way?”

The former courtesan squeezed her hand. “I’m certain you will love the dusty old hall once you have spent time there. As for the sheep, well, I think there are worse things. Be grateful that your husband does not raise hogs.”

“Hogs?” She shuddered. Then an idea popped into Brenna’s head. “You should come with me! Your husband is away, and you do like adventure. Oh, do promise you’ll come!”

Lucy leaned back against the cushions. “Do I dare?”

“We will keep each other company for the next few weeks,”
Brenna urged. “You can send your husband a letter. He should not mind your change of household. When he comes back to England, he can fetch you there.”

A smile graced Lucy’s face. “I will do it.”

The strain of venturing into the unknown lifted from Brenna, knowing she’d have one friend at Beckwith Hall—at least for a few weeks, while she got her footing. There was no telling what Richard would do when she rolled up to his home, buried in luggage, with her “companion” in tow. But she was ready to put up a fight. Her baby deserved that and more.

R
ichard put down the ledger and looked up at Miriam. For a moment, his heart stopped. In the shadows, outside the light from the lamp and fireplace, she looked much like his Millicent, before their marriage had ended so tragically. He shook off the memory and focused on Miriam.

“I hope I am not disturbing you, Richard,” Miriam said, with a smile. “I was wondering if you would like to drive into the village tomorrow with Bethany and me. We both require a visit to the dressmakers.”

Richard wanted to refuse. He knew that family and friends had hoped they would wed, but he could not abide the idea of replacing his late wife with her cousin. And Bethany left no question what she was after. Though Miriam seemed content to wait for him to decide, Bethany was as calculating as a snake. She wasn’t concerned with propriety or the fact that she and Miriam were friends. She was eager to get Richard under a yoke and was not concerned who she stepped over to get her wish.

“I should be able to spare a few hours in the early afternoon,” he said kindly. “Shall we say one o’clock?”

“One o’clock is perfect.” Miriam curtsied and rushed from the room.

Richard stared into the fireplace and wondered what his trio of guests would think if they knew he was already married. They thought nothing of living indefinitely off his generosity in the hope that one of the young women would eventually be his bride. Would that change if they learned the truth?

Two years under this roof. Ever since Miriam’s mother
realized he’d been dragged out of mourning and had given up his life of drunken debauchery, she’d made it her mission to snag Richard for her daughter. About six months ago, she’d finally given up and returned to London.

But she was not a complete fool. She’d left Miriam, and her friends, behind.

There were times when he’d thought of casting them out. However, they brought life into the house, as it were, and he had enough wealth to feed them.

Truthfully, he didn’t care what they did, as long as they respected his privacy. Besides, he admitted to himself, having them under his roof kept him from becoming too used to his own company, or a crazy bearded hermit who scared small children.

“Your Lordship?” Joseph stepped into the library. The butler looked befuddled. “Several coaches are coming up the drive at a rapid clip.”

“Coaches?” Richard rose and went to the window. It was just dark enough to hide whatever markings might have given a clue to the identity of the visitors. “Are we expecting guests?”

“Not that I am aware,” Joseph replied. “I shall have the cook warm what is left of supper and the maids ready several rooms, in case your company decides to take shelter for the night.” He rushed out, put out by the unexpected visitors.

Richard watched the first coach stop before the house, and a second soon followed suit. Curious, he left the library and almost collided with Bethany in the hallway.

“We have guests,” she tittered happily, and took his arm. “I do hope it is someone lively. This park can be quite dull.”

He bit back a snide remark about how she could leave at any time, but decided instead to say nothing. He led her out the door and onto the drive as a flurry of servants came out behind him. They went to the coaches as the coachmen swung open the doors and the process of unloading the coaches began.

Miriam joined them. “Who is it?”

Richard shook his head. The coaches bore no identifying crests. “All we have seen thus far are the trunks. Whoever our uninvited guest, or guests, are remains a mystery.”

Crunching wheels marked the arrival of another coach,
this one grander than the other two. The coach looked new, and the coachman was bedecked in dark blue livery. “Whoever it is, he, or she, has an excessive amount of luggage.”

Bethany tightened her possessive hold on his arm. Richard was about to shake free of her grip when the coach came to a halt before them and a footman climbed down to open the door.

The large feathered hat appeared in the opening. “It’s a woman,” Miriam said, as the visitor was helped from the coach. Another woman, less expensively dressed, climbed down behind her. There was something about the figure underneath the finely cut hat and gown that struck a cord of familiarity in him.

Richard tensed as she lifted her face to the lamplight. Dressed in a deep plum gown and looking as beautiful as ever, Brenna adjusted her hat and looked into his eyes. “Hello, Richard.”

“Brenna.” The world disappeared around them. She took his breath. How had he ever thought he could forget her? She captivated him before, and she captivated him now. It took will to find his voice. “You look well.”

“As do you.” Her voice was strained. She glanced at Miriam and then at Bethany. Brenna’s eyes took her measure.

For a moment, Bethany seemed taken aback by Brenna’s beauty. Then she lifted her chin in a lofty manner and tightened her hold on his arm. Brenna’s fine brows came together.

His mouth twitched. Clearly Brenna recognized a rival when she saw one. Life in society had sharpened her instincts. Though he wondered at her purpose for coming, he was even more curious about how long it would take before she pushed Bethany down on her bum.

“Richard, who is she?” Bethany said sharply, clearly tired of being ignored. The whine in her voice grated.

By the amount of trunks and the determined set of her chin, he knew that his wife intended to stay for an indefinite length of time. Brenna wasn’t about to do anything half measure. She had not come to Beckwith Hall by mistake. She had an agenda, and he was about to find out what it was. Until then, he had introductions to make.

Richard met Brenna’s eyes and saw a mischievous glint in
the green depths. She knew exactly what she was doing when she’d arrived unannounced. She wanted to surprise him, and she had. Now she waited for him to put Bethany in her place.

He willingly obliged. “Miriam, Bethany, meet Lady Brenna Harrington Ellerby, the Viscountess Ashwood. My wife.”

G
asps erupted from both women. Brenna was satisfied to see the thin blonde release Richard. The calculating look in the woman’s eyes was replaced by shock. Whatever she thought her position was in this household, it had just been usurped by a stranger. Worse yet, the stranger was Richard’s wife.

Excellent. Brenna did not try to hide her satisfaction. She’d not come all this way to see her husband claimed by another woman. Whatever their connection, it was over. Brenna would not accept Richard’s mistress living in
her
house. And Beckwith Hall was
her
house now.

“Leave us,” Richard said. The two women stumbled off toward the manor, half supporting each other. Lucy walked over to stand on the steps, far enough away to give them some privacy yet close enough to satisfy her protective nature.

Richard took Brenna’s arm. Drawing her away from the curious servants unloading her luggage, he positioned them face-to-face. Brenna inhaled his spicy scent, and her mind went back to that night at the inn. She remembered how his hands and mouth felt on her and how he tasted beneath her lips. Her skin tingled with the memory.

“Brenna, why have you come?” he asked, and then understanding quickly filled his eyes. “Am I to assume that your parents know the truth about our marriage?” At her nod, he
expelled a harsh breath. “I’d supposed that the truth would come out eventually. When am I to expect Walter to arrive and exact his revenge?” He glanced up the drive.

“He wanted to kill you. Mother reasoned him down to a whipping,” Brenna said. Her emotions where tangled. She was so pleased to see him, more than she’d expected. She’d hoped her infatuation for him was over. She was wrong. If he took her hand and led her to his bed, she’d offer no protest. “I think it’s a satisfactory compromise. Don’t you?”

Several emotions flashed across his face: guilt, anger, acceptance. Her father knew the truth. Richard had to accept his punishment, no matter what her father decided to mete out. It was no less than any other outraged father would do.

He ran a hand over his head. “I thought you wanted an annulment? I assume your husband hunt was unsuccessful?”

She fell into his eyes. She wanted to throw herself against him and feel his arms around her. She wanted him to declare his desire for her here in the drive. She wanted him to kiss her passionately without reservation or guilt.

Lud! What was wrong with her?

Truthfully, she did not know what she wanted, but his indifference was not high on her list. He treated her as though she were a casual acquaintance, as if their night together and their marriage meant nothing to him.

Perhaps it didn’t. Had he missed her at all? Had he lain awake nights missing her naked body against his?

From his hard expression, she suspected not. Well, she was not about to be brushed off like lint on his jacket. She was his wife! She’d shake him to his core and shock some emotion out of him before the evening ended. The life of the staid Viscount Ashwood, as he knew it to be, was over.

So she straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and locked her knees. “Richard, I am with child.”

Surprise widened his bright blue eyes. “You cannot be.”

Finally, she’d chipped through his reserve. She placed a hand on her abdomen. “I assure you that I am. I’m approximately a month along. You should know that since you were there for the deflowering.”

He looked as if she’d hit him. “This is not happening,” he whispered. “Not again.”

Brenna knew his history, but she was not his late wife. “I know you have concerns. However, I come from sturdy Irish stock. I have no intention of dying in childbirth.”

The words were sharper than she’d intended. Still, they performed the desired consequence. Anger tightened his jaw. “You know my feelings on the matter. I did not want a child.”

A rush of annoyance stiffened her spine. “You speak as if I chose to bear your child.” She pointed a finger at his chest. “As I recall, you were equally involved with making our baby. I’ll not allow you to shift the blame onto my shoulders, nor did Lucy and I come all the way from London to be turned away.” She put her hands on her hips. “You will learn to accept this. You have no other option.”

Richard’s jaw pulsed. He glanced over her shoulder at Lucy. She did not need to turn to know her friend was intently listening to the exchange.

“What are your plans?” he asked finally.

“I intend to make Beckwith Hall my home.”

He sighed. “Nothing has changed between us, Brenna. We both know this marriage is a mistake, though if the child lives, I will do my duty as its father. However, our agreement stands. Our marriage will be in name only.”

He turned on his heel and returned to the house.

“Bastard,” Lucy said, behind her. She moved up and placed a comforting hand on Brenna’s shoulder. “I see why you fled him. He is a tyrant.”

Brenna’s lids narrowed. “He can be grim,” she agreed, and faced Lucy. If Richard thought a bit of marital discord would send her fleeing back to her parents, he was wrong. She meant to fight for this marriage, his feelings be damned.

“Will you stay?” Lucy asked.

“Of course I’m staying.” Brenna looked up at the manor. “Richard married me of his free will.” She sighed. “The night we conceived this child, he was tender, almost loving. I hope to find that again. There is much in Lord Ashwood yet to discover.”

Lucy appeared skeptical. She crinkled up her nose. “You will face many challenges in your journey to uncover his good qualities.”

Brenna grinned. “I do enjoy a challenge.” She hooked her arm with Lucy’s, and together they presented a formidable force. “Now, shall we inspect my new home together?”

I
f Brenna expected the hall to be a dusty old manor, she was mistaken. The maids were well trained, as there was no dust, or cobwebs, to be seen. The foyer gleamed.