“You do not think the duke might think differently?”
“No, I do not. He has no say in the matter.”
“Your father is dead, correct? Is the duke not your guardian?”
“To the extent society needs us to have a guardian. The duke and duchess have been very generous in presenting us to society, and I am eternally grateful for my sister’s sake. But we do not need a guardian, Lord Luhaunt. I control the estate.” She looked pointedly at him. “And it is tied into trusts that are untouchable by any man my sister chooses to marry.”
His look remained nonplussed by her words. “How did Rowe—the duke—become your guardian?”
“My father knew his uncle, the late Duke of Letson. Honorably, the duke wanted to fulfill his uncle’s obligations.”
She wasn’t about to admit it to Luhaunt, but honestly, Brianna still could not believe her good fortune. She had never heard of the Duke of Letson, never read any mention of him in her father’s papers. So when the duke had contacted her a year after her father’s death, informing her of her father’s wishes that the duke become their guardian, she had been more than suspicious.
Refusals were sent, but the duke invited her and Lily again and again to Notlund. Brianna had continued her polite refusals. But the weekly letters, always with an invitation, continued for months from both the duke and the duchess.
Brianna had resisted for months, but had finally caved to Lily’s constant haranguing to visit Notlund.
Wary, Brianna had been preparing for a battle of control over the Silverton estate. But it never came. It took her months to trust that the duke and duchess just truly wanted to help them in any way they could. The duchess, Wynne, had become a grand friend to both her and Lily. And Brianna had grown to rely on the duke’s wisdom when it came to managing her family’s estate.
Luhaunt watched her, apparently waiting for more words from her.
Her guard spiked again, and Brianna realized she didn’t care for his probing questions.
“But why ask me, Lord Luhaunt? If the duke is such a good friend to you, why not ask him? You are welcome to take your leave to go do so.”
He shrugged, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Take no offense, Miss Silverton. I am just curious. I have known Rowe for many years, and had never heard of the Silverton sisters. Not until your sister became the darling of the ton.”
She gave him a curt nod, her eyes going back to the trail. Only a few more minutes and she could escape this man. She would need to talk to Wynne right away when she got back to the castle to make sure Luhaunt was kept away from her sister.
He was far too handsome, and Lily would like that—which was exactly what Brianna needed to curtail. She had had a difficult enough time getting Lily to whittle her list of possible husbands to three.
“Tell me, Miss Silverton, I observed you in London and watched you treat a number of gentlemen with open and utter distaste. Why?”
Her eyes flew to Luhaunt, the question flustering her mind. Open distaste? Had she really been that rude in London? So rude a complete stranger could see it? But then, if she had been, did it matter? Spinster. She was a spinster.
The frown on her face deepened. “It is not my concern if those gentlemen did not understand the function a spinster companion serves at a ball. Their over-presumption was at fault. I never led a single one of them into, nor encouraged any conversation. They had no purpose with me, and I none with them.”
“You do realize you are a beautiful woman, Miss Silverton?”
Her jaw dropped. She had absolutely no retort to the comment.
He smiled at her. Genuine. Warm. “I do not wish to offend. I just thought it needed to be spoken, Miss Silverton.” He inclined his head. “As we are near the stables, I will leave you so we do not arrive together. I would not want any untoward words spoken of you.”
He gave a low whistle, and the tall black stallion sprang into motion, trotting ahead of Brianna.
Staring after him, she did not close her mouth until Luhaunt and his horse disappeared over the crest of the hill in front of her.
She had not thought of herself in that manner in a long time.
Not since Gregory.
Not since her father died.
Not since the weight of her father’s secrets had become hers.
She shook her head, clearing the air around her.
No. She was a spinster. And a spinster she needed to remain.
{ Chapter 3 • Earl of Destiny }
Ears tuned to the conversation next to her, Brianna absent-mindedly plucked through the last few chords on the pedal harp before her.
Where she had once taken great pride in her musical ear, the notes had rung hollow, her fingers stiff over the strings for the past two years. But Wynne had convinced Lily to sing for their guests earlier in the evening, and Lily always sang better when Brianna accompanied her.
Before Lily was even done, Brianna realized the convenience of staying behind the harp. She could hover, monitoring Lily playing whist without being drawn into tedious conversation with Lord Newdale’s mother or sisters.
So Brianna had plucked through every last sonata she could think of for the past several hours, fading into the background of the drawing room.
Lord Luhaunt’s hearty chuckle caught her ear, warm and soft, and it was enough to make her glance across the card table at him. His charming smile was focused on Lady Rebecca, the younger Newdale sister, and he managed to keep his eyes well above the ample cleavage she was angling at him. Lady Rebecca’s own high-pitched chuckle joined his, and she lightly touched his arm.
Apparently, Lady Rebecca was not heeding her sister’s earlier advice.
Following dinner, and far from their mother’s ears, Brianna had overheard the elder Newdale daughter corner her younger sister in the drawing room before the men had joined them.
“He is cursed, Rebecca,” the elder sister, Beatrice, had said, her voice hissing out the side of her mouth.
The peculiar words had slowed Brianna’s feet to a crawl as she passed behind them on the settee. She had turned, facing the wall to straighten one of Wynne’s paintings—a stable boy at Notlund leaning against a pitchfork, a hidden smirk of shirking his duties curving his mouth. Brianna’s head tilted slightly to the side, her ear straining to the settee.
“Lord Luhaunt?” Rebecca had smoothed the skirts of her teal gown, adjusting on the settee next to her sister. “Posh, do not be so dramatic, Bea. He was very charming while we were dining. And this whole stay is looking much less dull since he has arrived. We are in the middle of nowhere, for heaven’s sake. Besides, how could Luhaunt possibly be cursed?”
“It is what they say. He uses the dark arts—it is how he knows the horses, his strange ability with them—and how he has gained his wealth,” Beatrice continued, her words still a low hiss. “It is a well-known fact he traded his family’s lives in exchange for his own gain. Both the title and the horses.”
“But he is so dashing.”
“Of course he is. He has the dark arts on his side, clouding his person. So set your eyes downward, Rebecca—mother would never allow it, so be done thinking on it.”
Brianna had only heard Rebecca grumble something incoherent at her sister at that point, so she moved on past the settee, perplexed.
She was accustomed to hearing useless gossip, but the dark arts as a cautionary tale? That was new to her. And she wasn’t so sure the elder sister hadn’t concocted the whole of it as a ruse to keep Lord Luhaunt’s attentions for herself.
But the words had stuck in Brianna’s mind the entire night. Every time she ventured a look at Luhaunt, she tried to connect him in some way to a mind filled with sinister dark arts. And every time, she could not see it in him, no matter how hard she looked.
Then again, she did have a hard time seeing anything sinister in handsome men. That much was proven.
At the card table, Luhaunt glanced up at Brianna in the very second she was watching him, ponder
ing once more the dark arts supposedly attached to the man.
Her head dropped instantly, hiding from his brown eyes that still crinkled at the corners in mirth. Brianna wondered fleetingly what the humor was about. It was the one thing she admitted to missing as a spinster—easy laughter over innocent nothingness.
“Are you positive, Lord Luhaunt, you did not just flip that card from your sleeve?” Lily leaned across the card table, her heart-shaped mouth in a teasing pout. “I do believe Lord Newdale and I were well on our way to winning. Dare I call trickery upon you?”
Brianna quickly plucked one last chord, cutting short the sonata, and stood. The way Lily elongated the word “dare” told Brianna that Lily was already two glasses of sherry past decorum. Not to mention she had just accused Lord Luhaunt of cheating.
It was going to be a long evening.
Biting her tongue, Brianna moved to stand behind Lily, ready to intervene. Her eyes flickered over Luhaunt’s face. Men did not always respond well to Lily’s bold assertions when things—be it a game of cards or a dance—were not going her way.
Lord Luhaunt gave Lily an easy smile. “I assure you, nothing of the sort. Cheating at cards is a skill I never acquired.” He held his arms straight out, manically flipping his wrists up and down. “I have absolutely nothing to hide, Miss Lily.” His eyes drifted up to Brianna.
Brianna exhaled a sigh of relief. At least Luhaunt was a gentleman where Lily was concerned. Though she was not entirely positive if his last words were directed to Lily or to her.
Lily laughed at his overblown antics, looking to Lord Newdale. “Do then shuffle the cards Lord Newdale. I would like to soundly beat Lord Luhaunt in the next round.”
Lady Rebecca, the fourth in their game of whist, cleared her throat good-naturedly.
“And you as well, Lady Rebecca,” Lily said, her head swinging to her other adversary. “The sound beating will be yours to own as well.”
Brianna held her breath, but the whole table laughed. What her sister managed to get away with—merely by her sweet voice—never failed to boggle Brianna’s mind.
Lord Newdale picked up the cards, shuffling them.
“Tell me, Miss Lily, about where you grew up,” Luhaunt asked. “I understand from Rowe that you lived for many years with Viscount Friellway? That your father was his solicitor?”
“We did. But Papa was so much more than his solicitor.”
“How so?”
Lily smiled with obvious pride. “Papa was the viscount’s most trusted advisor and friend, and we lived at the viscount’s estate in Norfolk for as long as I can remember. Papa guided the viscount’s holdings into tripling their worth, and was rewarded thusly—which is how the Silverton estate grew. They were grand friends—one was rarely without the other. And the viscount was much more akin to a beloved uncle for Brianna and me.”
“So a happy childhood?” Luhaunt asked.
“Yes. It was just the four of us—papa, the viscount, Brianna and I for many years.” Lily picked up her glass, sipping the last of her sherry. “We have no other family. The viscount did marry a number of years back, but his wife died in childbirth soon after. A tragedy.”
Brianna poked Lily in the back. Her mouth was running fast again.
Lily reached for the fresh sherry glass that had appeared by her hand. Brianna eyed the overzealous footman that had placed it there, silently cursing him.
“Incredibly sad,” Lord Newdale said, shaking his head as he passed out the cards.
In one long sip, Lily drained a third of the sherry. “Yes. We were happy. So very happy.” Her hand waved in the air. “Until everyone died, that is.”
Brianna bent next to Lily, her voice a low hiss. “Close your mouth, Lils.” She snatched the glass from Lily’s hand, red liquid sloshing onto the table.
“Bree, you are making a scene.” Lily looked up at her, miffed.
“Please, excuse us.” Brianna set the glass on the table and grabbed Lily’s elbow, looking around the table. “May I interrupt the game and steal my sister away for a moment? I have sudden need of her in the hallway.”
Both men were to their feet in an instant.
“Of course, Miss Silverton.” Lord Newdale gave a slight bow.
Brianna didn’t give him a chance to say anything else as her fingernails dug into Lily’s elbow and she dragged her to standing, then steered her out of the room.
She had hoped to make it down the corridor and into the library before Lily exploded.
They only made it halfway.
Lily tore from Brianna’s grip in the hallway, her feet planted.
“How could you, Bree? You have embarrassed me beyond all decency in front of Lord Newdale—and his sister—and his mother—and his other sister. And this is only their first real evening here.”
“Lils, you are overreacting.” Brianna’s palms went up, trying to sneak onto Lily’s shoulders.
Lily slapped her hands away. “I am not. You cannot stand it that I have a man showering me with such attention—two men if Lord Luhaunt’s actions tonight are included. You are jealous—jealous of the entire season and of what I can have and what you cannot.”
“You know that is not true, Lils.” Brianna fought to keep her voice calm. “You have just had too much wine tonight and you are not thinking well.”
“Too much wine? You are to judge me? You?”
“Lils, I am only—”
“You are only what? Bitter?” Lily snorted a hard chuckle, her arm swinging wide. “That I already know, Bree. Ever since Gregory, you will do anything to make sure I do not find happiness.”
“Do not, Lily. Do not.” Brianna’s head shook, the words coming out hard. “I am doing all of this to make you happy. To get you what you want.”
Lily scoffed. “What I want? What would you know about that? You have already ripped away every bit of happiness from me.”
“I am doing all of this for you, Lils. For your happiness. The season. Being here at Notlund. Entertaining Lord Newdale and his family. All of it is for your happiness. This is what you wanted.” Brianna stopped, taking a deep breath. She could tell not one of her words reached Lily. “What do you want me to do, Lils?”
“I want you to walk. Walk out of here. Leave me alone. For one blasted moment, just leave me alone.” Lily’s voice vicious, she spun away from Brianna, almost stumbling to the floor. She managed to catch herself on the stone wall before she went down. “Better yet, I will leave.”
“Lils…” Brianna’s voice faded as her sister staggered down the hall, veering back and forth.
Heart hurting, Brianna watched her, wanting to go after her sister, but confounded about what to do.
Lily disappeared around the corner at the end of the long corridor.
Brianna’s hands came up to her face, both palms rubbing her eyes and forehead.
Loss. She was at a complete loss.
She had only been trying to stop Lily from embarrassing herself. And she had gone through this particular scene in the hallway too many times to count.
“You were overly generous with her.”
Brianna whipped around, only to see Luhaunt with his arms crossed over his chest. He leaned against the stone wall under a hanging lantern, the candle-light flickering on his dark hair.
The absolute last thing she needed at the moment.
Swallowing a groan, her hands dropped to her sides, her chin going up as her spine straightened. “You do not know a thing about it, Lord Luhaunt.”
Pushing off from the wall, he stepped from the light, moving toward her. “You are right. I do not know a thing about it, only what I overheard.”
“And just what did you overhear?”
“Your sister apparently blames you for everything that is not right in her life.” He stopped in front of Brianna, looking down at her. “And she likes her wine.”
“Well then, you must know her quite well.” Brianna did not bother to hide the sarcasm in her voice. “That should be advant
ageous for you while attempting to court her.”
An odd smile crossed his face. “Your sister is upset. Do not be so sure it is you she is upset with.”
“I am quite certain it is me.” Brianna met his brown eyes, sighing. She did not have the energy for this. “What is it you came out here for, Lord Luhaunt?”
“Escape. It became somewhat awkward in the drawing room after you two exited. Wynne is scrambling to put cheer on, and Rowe is just sitting back, silently amused.” He turned, motioning with his hand to the drawing room. “But now that you are free once more, maybe you can help to restore the balance inside? I will walk you back.”
Brianna glanced over her shoulder to where Lily had disappeared. What she really wanted to do was sneak up to her own rooms and sit in the dark. But that was not an option for her—that was an option reserved for the drunk and dramatic.
She nodded in agreement, starting forth.
Luhaunt stepped in line with her, his hands clasped behind his back. “You play the harp exceptionally well, Miss Silverton.”
The compliment caught her off-guard, and she glanced at him. “Thank you. I was happy to find the duke had a pedal harp in residence—my father always much preferred listening to me play the harp over the harpsichord, so it is what I am most comfortable with.”
“But you do not sing?”
“I croak like a toad.” She shook her head. “Lily is a true talent when it comes to voices. I am happy to merely be the accompaniment to her voice.”
“In other words, you like to hide in the background?”
“It is easier for all involved.”
“How is that?”
She looked at him, wry smile on her face. “Did you yourself not say I treat people with ‘open and utter distaste’ when forced to interact?”
He chuckled. “That I did. But I think I limited the comment to misguided gentlemen foolhardy enough to stand next to you.”
He opened the door to the drawing room, stepping aside to let her in.
Her voice dropped to a whisper as she passed him. “So why, Lord Luhaunt, are you bothering to stand next to me?”
Lord of Fates: A Complete Historical Regency Romance Series (3-Book Box Set) Page 31