My Brother's Bride

by Rachael Anderson

  Following the performances, their hostess had introduced Abby and Sophia to Mr. Rend and Mr. Wallace. They were good-natured men and attractive enough, but their eyes did not sparkle with humor and they seemed more concerned with flattering the women than making interesting conversation. Abby managed a smile here and there, but as soon as the opportunity arose, she made her escape. Sophia, on the other hand, had been much more gracious.

  “I must agree with Knave,” said Abby. “Sophia was merely being kind. Mr. Wallace did not engage her interest in the slightest. Didn’t you notice how quickly she changed the subject when you asked about him during our ride home?”

  Prudence frowned, and Abby hid a smile. Her friend despised being wrong, especially when it came to matters of the heart. She considered herself somewhat of an expert on the subject even though none of her matchmaking efforts had amounted to much.

  “Are you certain?” she asked.

  “Quite,” said Abby and Knave in unison, causing Prudence’s frown to deepen.

  The butler entered the room, carrying himself in his rigid, posturing way. His mop of gray hair didn’t move a smidgeon when he announced, “Lady Brigston to see Lady Jasper.”

  In an instant, Abby’s smile vanished, and she forgot all about the butler. Lady Brigston had come to see her? Why?

  She fisted the fabric of her white afternoon dress, contemplating how to tell the butler she was not at home to visitors. Unfortunately, Prudence spoke before Abby could formulate a believable excuse.

  “Please show her in, Dodge.”

  Abby tightened her grip on her skirts as panic tightened its grip on her. It was a cowardly response, she knew. The woman could do her no harm. But Abby would never forget Lady Brigston’s cold, parting words. I think it would be better for all our sakes if you left Oakley as soon as possible.

  The words had injured Abby more than she’d ever admit out loud. Had Lady Brigston come to ask Abby to leave London as well? If so, she wouldn’t do it. She’d come at the invitation of her friends, and she would remain with them.

  Lady Brigston walked into the room, looking confident and more vibrant than Abby remembered her. The strain around her eyes had eased, as had the dark circles. She no longer looked like a fragile waif. Even her brown hair seemed to shine with more luster.

  “Lord and Lady Knave, a pleasure,” she greeted. “And Abby, it is wonderful to see you again. Her gaze lingered on her daughter-in-law, no doubt to assess her the way Abby had just done. “You look lovely, my dear.”

  Abby’s mouth suddenly felt as though it had been filled with cotton. The last thing she’d expected from this woman was warmth or kindness. Did she mean it?

  “Do join us,” said Knave. He was standing next to his wife, gesturing to the chair at Abby’s side. Lady Brigston sat down and smiled as though all was perfectly normal when it felt anything but.

  When Abby finally collected her voice, she said the only thing that came to mind. “This is a surprise, my lady.”

  “A pleasant surprise,” Prudence added, darting a worried look at Abby before smiling at Lady Brigston once more.

  “I might say the same about your arrival in London,” Lady Brigston said pointedly to Abby.

  Abby had to force her lips into a smile, even though it probably looked as phony as it felt. Did Lady Brigston mean Abby’s arrival had been a pleasant surprise or an unpleasant one? If only the people of the ton weren’t so adept at masking their true feelings. It could be most unnerving.

  “Abby was determined to stay in Lynfield and locate a cottage, but after months of begging, we managed to convince her to join us for another season—and little Anne as well.”

  Lady Brigston seemed to freeze in place. Her serene expression, her hands in her lap, even her eyes ceased blinking. The only sign she was still breathing was the slight rise and fall of her chest. Was she angry? Offended? Appalled?

  “You named your daughter Anne?” she finally asked.

  Abby nodded slowly, wondering when she’d become so fearful of this woman. She’d never felt that way about her before. Wary, yes, but not fearful. It was a bizarre reaction. What did she have to lose? Lady Brigston’s good opinion? She’d lost that months ago.

  Finding her courage, Abby lifted her chin and made her voice sound as confident as possible. “Anne Caroline Campbell, after her two grandmothers.” Anne, after Lady Brigston, and Caroline after her own mother.

  Her mother-in-law began blinking rapidly, and Abby caught a sheen of moisture in the woman’s eyes. Her body nearly sagged in relief. She was happy. Hallelujah.

  “May I meet her?” Lady Brigston’s voice trembled ever so slightly, and Abby was quick to nod. It was like a wish granted. She’d love nothing more than to introduce her daughter to her only living grandmother.

  “Would you like to accompany me to the nursery, or shall I have Nurse Lovell bring her down?”

  “The nursery, please.” Lady Brigston sounded anxious, as though she couldn’t wait to see her grandchild. Abby could scarce believe it. It all felt too wonderful to be real.

  She led the way up to the nursery and entered the room quietly. Nurse Lovell sat dozing in the rocking chair but awoke to the sound of the floor creaking.

  The moment she spotted them, she jumped up, glancing at the crib where Anne lay peacefully sleeping. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, my lady. Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Not at all,” said Abby kindly. Anne had slept fitfully since they’d arrived in London, which made it so Nurse Lovell didn’t get much sleep. The poor woman was probably worn to the bone. “Why don’t you lie down? We’ll look after Anne for a time.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t,” said the nurse. She wasn’t a tall woman, but she was large, like a fluffy pillow. Compared to the other rail-thin nurses who had interviewed for the position, Abby thought Anne would be much more comfortable in Nurse Lovell’s arms. And she was, for the most part.

  Abby laid a hand on the nurse’s shoulder. “I know Anne has kept you up many nights, and I’m sorry for it. You must be exhausted. Please go and rest. Anne’s grandmother and I will wake you when we’re ready to go down.”

  Nurse Lovell’s frame seemed to relax in relief. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” Abby shooed her into the room adjacent to the nursery.

  Lady Brigston walked over to the crib and peered down. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she watched her granddaughter sleep. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered.

  “She’s a dear as well, at least some of the time. Nurse Lovell says she has the lungs of an elephant.”

  Her mother-in-law chuckled softly. “May I hold her?”

  “Certainly, but you do so at your own peril. Elephant jokes aside, I wouldn’t be surprised if her wails can be heard as far as Scotland.”

  “I shall take my chances.” Lady Brigston lifted the babe from the crib and tucked her to her chest, gently rocking and cooing quietly. Anne stirred but did not awaken.

  “You have a magical touch,” Abby said, enjoying the site of her mother-in-law holding her granddaughter. She never would have believed it possible had she not seen it with her own eyes.

  The two women settled down, Lady Brigston in the rocking chair and Abby in an armchair by the fireplace. Abby couldn’t help but wonder if Brigston would take a liking to Anne as well. He’d look so handsome cuddling her in that rocking chair.

  That will never happen.

  Abby pushed the image from her mind and cleared her throat. “I haven’t thanked you for the christening gown. It was exquisite.”

  “I’m glad it met with your approval. I should have sent a note, but how does one properly apologize in a letter?” Lady Brigston lifted her gaze to Abby, her forehead creased in consternation. “I was hurt and angry, and reacted in a way I deeply regret. I’m sorry for it.”

  “You had good reason to be hurt and angry,” Abby said. “Jasper and I should have told you straightaway, but he…” What was she saying? The last thi
ng Abby wanted to do was place the blame on her late-husband. He’d only done what he thought best at the time, and she’d placed her trust in him.

  Lady Brigston’s eyes twinkled. “He could be quite persuasive couldn’t he?”

  “I owed him my life. I would have granted him anything.” Except my love, Abby thought shamefully. If only a person could give love to whomever they wished.

  “Morgan can be persuasive as well,” Lady Brigston added.

  It was true. Abby hadn’t overridden either brother. “Or perhaps I am too compliant.”

  “I seriously doubt that.” Lady Brigston leaned over to smell the infant, then tenderly placed her cheek against Anne’s. “She is so soft. I forgot how small they are. How precious.”

  Abby said nothing. She only watched, her heart toasty and happy.

  “Morgan was right to ask that you keep it from me in the beginning,” said his mother. “I needed to be in a better place to weather the news. I only wish I would not have come down so hard on you. Will you forgive an old woman?”

  “Only if you forgive me. I would love for Anne to grow up knowing you. Every girl should have at least one doting grandmother.”

  Lady Brigston seemed to agree with that as well, judging by the brightness in her eyes. “What about you, Abby? Do you have need of a mother?”

  Was she offering?

  “Yes,” said Abby. “Very much so.”

  Lady Brigston smiled a little and continued rocking Anne. After a few moments, she rested her head against the back of the chair and considered Abby. “I hope you will consider staying with us again, once the season ends. Oakley has been a lonely place since you left.”

  Abby nearly blurted she would love that above all things, but while she ached to belong to a family, it wasn’t that simple. Her feelings for Brigston made it impossible for her to accept.

  “As much as I would love to return with you, I need to make a life of my own and live as I see fit. But wherever I make that life, know that you will always be welcome. I’m counting on frequent visits from you.”

  “Will you visit us as well?”

  “I will try.” It was the most Abby could promise. If her feelings for Brigston would ever subside, she’d do more than try.

  Lady Brigston opened her mouth to say something, but Anne stirred and whimpered a little, so she rocked and coddled her again. “I don’t think Anne cared for that answer, Abby. Perhaps you should revisit it.”

  Abby managed a smile, knowing full well that she hadn’t cared for it either.

  MUSIC. VOICES. LAUGHTER. Crystal goblets tinkling. The excited energy in the room mingled with the noises, swirling around Abby and lifting her spirits. Lord and Lady Fernside’s ball could officially be declared a success. Abby had rarely seen so many people in one setting before. There was hardly room to dance.

  It was good she’d come to London. Here, a person could never feel lonely.

  She watched Sophia on the dance floor, walking gracefully through the steps of the minuet with Mr. Wallace. Though she smiled and conversed and executed the steps beautifully, she did not laugh. It was a sure sign he would never do for Sophia. She needed a man who could amuse and interest her. Life would be too difficult without diverting conversations.

  Prudence’s elbow nudged Abby’s arm. “I must concede that you and Knave are right. Mr. Wallace is not lively enough for Sophia, is he?”

  “No, but he is a good dancer.”

  She nodded, her expression pensive. “Why are you not on the floor? I only just saw you speaking with Mr. Egerton. Did he not ask you to stand up with him?”

  “He did, but I told him I would not be dancing this evening.”

  “You cannot be serious.”

  “I am,” said Abby. “If there is a benefit to being a widow, it’s that I can do as I please, and tonight, I’d rather watch than be watched. You can try your hardest to dissuade me, but I am not on the hunt for a husband, and I don’t plan to be for some time.”

  Prudence frowned. “I’m beginning to think you and Sophia have joined forces against me. She said the same thing only yesterday.”

  “You have found us out,” said Abby. “We have made a pact to thwart your meddlesome, albeit well-intentioned, plans. What do you say to that, my friend?”

  “How very rude,” said Prudence, making Abby laugh.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” came a deep voice at Abby’s side—a voice that robbed her of her breath and caused her head to spin and her heart to falter. She knew that voice almost as well as her own.

  She turned her head slowly in his direction and immediately wished she hadn’t. Brigston looked even more handsome than she remembered. His light brown hair fell roguishly across his forehead. His strong jaw, blue-gray eyes, and mischievous smile caused her knees to wobble and quake. How had she not noticed him before now? How had she missed his name being announced or not felt of his presence?

  She certainly felt it now.

  Good grief, she was staring—gaping, more like. At some point her mouth had fallen open, so she snapped it shut and tried to locate her wits. What had he said again?

  “Ah, see?” said Prudence, coming to her rescue. “Lord Brigston agrees with me. He, too, thinks you should stop interfering with my meddling.”

  “I don’t think he knows what he agreed to.” Somehow, Abby’s voice sounded strong and unaffected. Thank goodness.

  “What exactly did I agree to?” Brigston watched the dancers with an air of nonchalance, as though he were conversing with an acquaintance—one who bored him.

  Abby felt a flicker of irritation she couldn’t quite keep out of her tone. “That I am behaving badly.”

  “Are you?”

  As soon as his gaze locked on hers, Abby had to remind herself to breathe again. How could he look so calm when she was anything but? His breathing didn’t sound erratic, his face wasn’t flushed, and he didn’t seem to struggle to make conversation while his head threatened to burst.

  Life could be vastly unfair at times.

  He watched her expectantly, as if waiting for her to say something.

  Oh dear, he was waiting for her. What had he asked again? Something about her behaving badly? Merciful heavens, why was it so hot in here? Where was a fan when she needed it most?

  He was still waiting.

  “Er…” She stumbled for a response, any response, even a dimwitted one. “I never behave badly.”

  “Just stubbornly,” muttered Prudence, watching her strangely. If Abby didn’t pull herself together soon, her friend would be privy to things she didn’t wish her to know. Perhaps she already was.

  Drat.

  Brigston grinned. “I’ll attest to that.”

  Abby frowned. Were they joining forces against her now? Honestly, could someone open a door? At the very least, a window?

  “Who’s made a pact with whom now?” muttered Abby.

  “Bless you for coming along when you did, Lord Brigston,” said Prudence. “It’s about time someone sided with me for a change. Please tell Abby she’s not allowed to play the doddering old maid all evening and continue to cry off from dancing.”

  Brigston leaned near Abby and lowered his voice. “I don’t think you look the least bit doddering or old.” He made it sound as though he’d just paid her a handsome compliment.

  “What a flatterer you are, my lord,” she said dryly. “That is high praise indeed.”

  “Gads, you’re right. That was poorly done of me, wasn’t it? I suppose I shall have to make it up to you.”

  “I suppose you will,” she said, feeling a little more normal. If only she’d seen him arrive. She could have prepared herself at least a little.

  “Would you consider joining me for the next dance if I promise to pepper you with prettier compliments?” he asked.

  Prudence quickly added, “If you do, I won’t be able to accuse you of behaving like a doddering old maid any longer.”

  Abby tried to tell herself to refuse him. She tried to
remember that he was not hers to have. And she tried to think of all the reasons dancing with him would be a terrible idea. Unfortunately, she really was too compliant.

  “I’d love nothing more,” she said, then immediately berated herself for being an imbecile.

  The minuet came to an end, and the couples on the dance floor began to disperse. Sophia almost made it back to Prudence and Abby when Mr. Rend intercepted her, no doubt to claim her hand for the following set.

  The musicians announced the next dance, and Abby’s mouth fell open once again. A waltz? Could that be right? Lady Fernside had always been a stickler for proprieties. She couldn’t have possibly condoned a waltz.

  Those around Abby appeared equally shocked—all except Brigston, who was grinning like a rogue.

  He offered his elbow. “How fortunate. A waltz.”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You don’t look surprised.”

  “Why should I be? The waltz has been gaining popularity for some time now.”

  “Yes, but this is Lady Fernside’s ball, and only last week at Almack’s I heard her call the waltz indecent.”

  “A woman is allowed to change her mind.” He pulled her into his solid arms, and Abby forgot to breathe yet again. She was conscious only of his hand on her waist and his lips so close to hers. And oh, that scent of citrus and spice. How she’d missed it.

  “If you must know, I came across Lady Fernside in Hyde Park earlier today and heard her complain that the Duke of Honeywell had yet to grace her ballroom with his presence, no pun intended. She seemed distraught by the man’s elusiveness, so I came to her aid. We agreed that if I could encourage the duke to attend, she would allow a waltz to be played at her ball. Apparently, she cares more about the duke than her unblemished reputation because she readily agreed.”

  Brigston intoxicated her. His lively conversation, the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned, the extra line on the left side of his mouth that could be seen only when his lips smiled or spoke certain words. Abby’s surroundings became a blur as he spun her around and around.