A Convenient Bride

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  Still, falling in love was not a dream easily forgotten. Not when Richard was standing in front of her now, as handsome as any fairy-tale prince.

  She could not let him see how deeply hurt she was that he could so easily dismiss her. She had her pride. She’d lean on that pride during the months ahead.

  “I agree,” she forced out, her heart breaking. “I accept your terms. From this night forward, my door will be locked to keep temptation in check.”

  With her spine straight and her head high, Brenna walked into the sitting room, locked the door behind her, and allowed silent tears to fall.

  He might well have slapped her. The sadness in her eyes made him long to go to her, to say something to ease her pain.

  She was carrying his child and deserved better than he could offer. She should be in London, falling in love. Instead she was married to a man who held himself from her.

  He was a coldhearted bastard.

  If only he could love her. She had everything a man could want in a wife: beauty, good humor, strength. Even the temperamental side of her intrigued him. He knew she’d be an excellent mother, too. She had much love to give.

  Sadly, she’d come too late into his life. Millicent’s betrayal and the death of the baby had hardened his heart.

  And not even Brenna could heal his damaged soul.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sara, have you seen my silver brush?” Brenna was on her hands and knees, looking under the bed for the item, when a maid arrived with freshly washed linens for the bed. “I used it this morning, and now it is missing.”

  Sara sat the linens on the bed and dropped down beside her. She glanced around the space. “I don’t see it, Milady. Have you asked Agnes?”

  “I have not. She has gone into the village. Perhaps you will have better luck than I am having.” They stood and began a thorough search of the room. The brush was nowhere to be found. “This is odd,” Brenna screwed up her face. “It could not have walked away.”

  After checking the sitting room, Brenna was certain something was amiss. She always lined up her brushes in a neat row on her dressing table. It was a habit she’d picked up from her mother. And neither of them ever lost a brush.

  “This is odd,” Sara agreed.

  Brenna puzzled over the missing brush. “It is possible someone borrowed it.” Though she thought it unlikely, she could not accuse anyone of thievery without first excluding every other option. “Could you please ask the maids if they’ve seen it, and please assure them that I only suspect it was accidentally misplaced.”

  “Yes, Milady.” Sara hurried off to do her bidding.

  While she was gone, Brenna made another cursory look around both rooms again. She was coming out of the sitting room when Lucy arrived.

  “Is that dust on your chin?” Lucy asked, and Brenna scrubbed the spot. “I see you have found the only few dust particles in the entire manor. And put your face in them.”

  Frowning at her friend, Brenna brushed the dust off her hand. “I was looking under the furniture for my silver brush. It has vanished.”

  “How strange.” Lucy walked to the dressing table. She looked down at the array of combs and brushes. “Are you talking about the silver brush with the swans carved into the handle?”

  Brenna nodded. “It was a birthday gift. I’d hate to lose—”

  Her mouth dropped open as Lucy turned, the brush gripped in her hand.

  “The brush has been found,” Lucy said.

  “How…where…?” She took the brush, her eyes wide. “I swear it was not here a moment ago.” Completely befuddled, she tried to make sense of the sudden reappearance.

  Lucy smiled indulgently. “I’ve heard that women can be scatterbrained when with child. Perhaps your eyes were tricking you? After all, you do have several brushes. You may have overlooked this one.”

  “Could that be true?” Brenna wasn’t so sure. Though her thoughts were taken up with the babe, and Richard, her mind remained sharp. Still, what other explanation was there?

  Sara returned. “The maids have not seen the brush, Milady.”

  She, too, looked astonished when Brenna held the item up for her to see. “Where did you find it?”

  “On the dressing table,” Lucy said, with a chuckle. “I think your mistress has suffered some malady of the eyes.”

  The maid smiled wide. “She does have many brushes.” Her words echoed Lucy’s sentiment.

  “I think you are both correct.” As there was no other explanation, Brenna took it as a moment of her eyes playing tricks on her. “Either that, or a mischievous spirit has followed me home from the abbey.”

  The three women shared a smile. Sara took the brush and returned it to the table. “All is well, then.”

  A flurry of rushing feet drew Brenna’s eyes to the open door. A footman and a maid passed, moving at a rapid clip.

  “Something is amiss,” Brenna said. A second maid, Brigit, stopped as Brenna appeared in the hall. “What is this excitement about, Brigit?”

  “Coaches are arriving, My Lady. Lots of coaches. Everyone is having fits.” She hurried off in a bustle of gray cotton without offering any further information.

  “Are we expecting guests?” Lucy asked, as the three women followed on Brigit’s heels.

  “We are not.” In the two weeks since she and Richard agreed to a sexless and emotionless marriage, he’d taken on a polite and distant demeanor with her, and she’d done the same with him. There had been no discussion about entertaining guests. “I suppose we will find out the identity of our mystery visitors soon enough.”

  “Oh, how exciting,” Lucy said. “Perhaps the Prince Regent has come to call.”

  Sara gasped. Brenna turned to the maid after sending Lucy a shaming glare. “It is not the Prince Regent. Please do not start gossip and frighten Mrs. Beal with that nonsense.”

  “Yes, Milady.”

  Though she and Richard were no longer more than two distant parties conversing over a meal, or passing in the hall, Brenna doubted that he’d invite anyone, much less the Prince Regent, without advising her of his plans.

  When they reached the foyer, she found him standing in the open doorway, staring out at the drive. Several members of the staff lingered behind him, in position, ready to hustle off to help the guests.

  “Who has come?” she asked, trying to look around him for clues. Brigit was correct; there were several coaches coming up the drive.

  He stepped aside so she could see the caravan kick up dust in their wake. “Your father, I suspect.”

  “Oh, dear,” she replied. Her stomach flipped. She hoped her father was unarmed. A dead husband would make her a widow and leave their child fatherless. She did not care for that option.

  “Do you Harringtons ever send notice when planning a visit?” Richard said drolly.

  Brenna shrugged. She, too, had shown up at the hall uninvited. “We do like our surprises.”

  Brenna watched a coach, with the Harrington crest, roll to a stop in front of the manor. Two more followed. Father did not wait for the coachman to climb down but pushed the door open and stepped down, turning to help Mother alight.

  “Shall I sneak out through the kitchen?” Richard jested, his voice tight. “I can certainly get into the forest before your father has the house searched for me.”

  Brenna knew he’d not cower from her father, and smiled. “You are a dangerous highwayman,” she quipped. “I think you can stand your ground with one angry father.”

  He looked down at her, a smile tugging at his mouth. She wondered if he even realized that in the light of Father’s arrival, he’d lost the mask of indifference he often adopted in her presence. She thought not. Not even under the threat of her father’s wrath.

  Father did not come all this way for renewed friendship and brandy. He wanted to confront Richard, the man who’d ruined his daughter.

  She slipped her hand in Richard’s and turned back to her parents. He allowed the gesture, as if they b
oth instinctively knew that a show of unity would fare better with her parents.

  “There you are, darling,” Mother said, as she released Father’s arm and hurried up the steps. They came together and fell into a tight embrace.

  Mother’s favorite lavender scent swirled around Brenna and brought tears. “I’ve missed you terribly, Mother.”

  “I’ve missed you.” Mother pulled back and looked her over with a critical eye. “The level of mischief in our home has receded greatly since you’ve been gone.” She took Brenna’s hands and spread her arms wide. Her eyes dipped to Brenna’s stomach. “I cannot wait for this grandchild to come. It will bring fun back into that quiet old town house.”

  Several gasps sounded from the lurking servants. The pregnancy was no longer a secret.

  Brenna ignored them and stepped between her father and Richard. The few steps distancing them from each other did not give her comfort. Father’s glare was dark enough to murder.

  “I’ve missed you, Father,” she said softly, and moved close. He tore his glare from her husband and looked into her face.

  “All is well, girl?”

  “Yes, Father.” She slid into his embrace. “All is well.” He held her for a moment, then coughed and released her. She took him by the forearms when she realized the glare was back. “Please do not kill my husband,” she whispered.

  “I cannot make that promise.”

  Fearing trouble, Brenna sent a silent appeal to Lucy. Lucy nodded, shooed the servants into the house, and closed the door behind them.

  Father eased Brenna aside and walked the last few steps up to Richard. Mother and daughter clutched each other, unsure of what to expect.

  Walter ignored Richard’s outstretched hand and instead let a fist fly. The blow caught Richard in the right eye, and he grunted but kept on his feet.

  “That is for compromising my daughter.” The second blow hit him in the chin. Richard’s head snapped to the side. Still he did nothing to defend himself. “And that one is for betraying our friendship.”

  “I suppose I deserved that.” Richard worked his jaw with his hand. “You may be old, my friend, but you can still hit like a younger man.” His hand moved to his reddened eye. He winced. “I accept my punishment as my due.”

  Brenna felt the tension leave her mother. Father had taken his pound of flesh. There would be no further violence.

  Richard reached out a hand to Brenna, and she took it, thankful she’d not have to purchase widow’s weeds.

  “Come, we shall retire to the library for a drink,” Richard said. “I think we could both use one.”

  The foursome walked into the house, the puzzled servants making a path. Miriam cowered back when Walter passed, and Bethany smiled, her eyes both amused and calculating as she noted Richard’s injuries.

  Brenna ignored them all as Richard led them into the library and closed the door tightly behind them.

  “Brandy?” he asked, and filled two glasses.

  Brenna and her mother shared a glance and took seats on the settee. They held hands and watched their husbands.

  Once the men drank the first brandy and then a second, Richard finally broke the silence. “Nothing I can say will repair the damage I’ve done to Brenna, or our friendship. I can only hope that one day you will forgive me.”

  Walter grunted and walked to the fireplace. He stared into the flames for several minutes. Then, “Why my daughter?”

  Richard turned his gaze to Brenna. She saw the struggle in his eyes. How do you explain to a father how you got mixed up in such a muddle without looking like a virgin-seducing cad?

  “I was smitten,” he said finally. “One look in her green eyes, and I was hooked.”

  Surprised by the warmth of his comment, Brenna’s heart lurched until she realized the words were chosen to assuage her father. She forced herself to smile under his regard.

  Mother sighed. “We Harrington women do entice men.”

  Father and Mother shared an affectionate glance. The love between them was evident and open.

  Richard, with his attention still on her, missed the exchange. His eye was swollen halfway shut, and his chin sported a red welt. Whether by accident or by design, he’d be wearing the mark of the Harrington crest from Father’s ring for days to come.

  Glancing back at her parents, he spoke again. “I was so taken with your daughter that I lost my senses. As soon as I realized the gravity of my actions, I knew I had to marry her.”

  Father said nothing. Richard shook his head.

  “It was unfortunate that we quarreled after the wedding, and through anger, we parted, vowing to keep the marriage secret.” Richard walked over to Brenna and took her hand. “Fortunately, the babe did what his stubborn parents would not do. He brought us back together.”

  If Brenna were not well aware of his ruse, she would have found the story charming. Clearly her mother did, as her eyes softened as she glanced from husband to wife.

  He did spin a compelling story of lust, loss, and love. She could almost believe their tale a grand love story, if she was not living the opposite.

  “So you see, Father, our romance began under unusual circumstances, true. However, now that we have spent these last weeks together, we have learned we are indeed well suited,” Brenna said, and rubbed her cheek against the back of Richard’s hand. She hoped her parents would see them as a devoted couple. “So your fears have proved unfounded. I did not need help finding a husband. He found me.”

  “Or, rather, robbed your coach,” Richard interjected, and smiled down at Brenna. “It was fate.”

  The maid arrived with tea, saving Brenna from continuing the farce. She hated lying to her parents, even if the tale was largely true.

  “How long will you be staying?” Brenna asked, after sipping the tea to quell a wave of nausea.

  “No more than a week,” Mother replied. “Eva is due to give birth soon, and we would like to be there for the occasion.”

  Though the matter of their relationship was not entirely settled to her father’s satisfaction, Brenna thought her father seemed willing to accept that he had a new son-in-law, and a baby to be born in the spring, and let the matter rest. The two men turned their conversation to new farming techniques, and only the damage to Richard’s face was left as a reminder of a fractured friendship.

  The two women slipped into easy chatter about the new Harrington heir and how Brenna’s own pregnancy was progressing. Just when Brenna thought the matter settled, her mother set her teacup down, crossed her arms, and frowned.

  “I want you to tell me the truth about this marriage, Daughter,” Mother said quietly, so as not to be overheard. “That tale of love may have fooled your father, but not me. Something is amiss, and I want to know what it is.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Mother, I do not know what you mean.” Brenna tried to keep her eyes level but found her gaze drifting downward to the floor. She really needed to practice the art of dodging Mother’s truth-detecting stare.

  Kathleen made a small triumphant sound. “I knew that story was rubbish. The only thing missing from this Shakespearean farce was a funny neck collar for Richard and a lute strumming in the background.”

  Warmth crept up Brenna’s neck. She nodded. “There are some issues we have yet to resolve.” Insurmountable issues. But her marriage was a private matter. And she had Richard’s continued good health in her hands. Father needed to think she was happy.

  “Would you like to embellish on that comment?”

  “Mother, nothing is so serious that it cannot be resolved. Neither myself nor Richard were prepared for this marriage. We were strangers. I suspect over the next few months, we will settle in to a contented life.”

  “A contented life? That sounds perfectly dismal. You could have married that milksop, Abbot, and had ‘contented.’ What about passion?” Mother darted a glance at Father. “Your father and I are still passionate about each other. And it has been thirty years.”

&nbs
p; Brenna drew in a deep breath. “There is more to a marriage than passion, Mother.” She held back regret. Looking at Richard dressed in gray, his hair slightly mussed and his damaged eye almost completely closed, she couldn’t think of anything more appealing than dragging him upstairs to bed. “What about companionship, or a shared love of books?”

  Even to her ears, the argument fell flat.

  Mother stared, aghast. “You cannot look forward to discussing books for the next forty years over bedding the handsome man you married?” Her eyes widened. “Has Richard suffered a malady that makes him no longer capable of performing his husbandly duties?”

  “What? Mother, no!” The two men glanced over. Brenna lowered her voice. “Richard is perfectly capable of…Lud, must we discuss this? I am content with my position here. Can we not leave it at that?”

  Even as she pleaded for understanding, she knew her mother would not leave the issue alone. Mother was happy with Father and wanted the same for her children.

  Despite Father and Simon threatening her with an unwanted marriage, Mother would never have allowed them to marry Brenna off to Chester Abbot.

  After adding another sugar to her tea, Mother finally broke the silence. “You have several months before the baby is born to make Richard fall in love with you. After you have recovered from the birth, I expect you to drag him into your bed and solidify your place as his cherished wife.”

  Brenna’s flush deepened. It was impossible to speak so frankly with her mother without blushing. She knew her parents had a loving marriage; it was the idea of two people their age still sharing intimacies in bed that was, well, unseemly.

  “Can we not talk about the weather?” Brenna begged. “I think the sky is threatening rain.”

  Mother frowned. “Just remember what I said. If a man loves his wife, he is less likely to stray. If a man fears the wrath of his wife, he will either behave or sleep with his eyes open.” Mother smiled over her cup. “Ask your father the last time he had a peaceful night’s sleep.”