A Convenient Bride Read online

  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.”

  The idea deepened her happiness. “While you are so agreeable, I hoped that perhaps I could put new drapes in the third-floor guest rooms. It is entirely too dark up there.”

  “Do as you wish.” He lifted the paper, and she considered herself dismissed.

  There were several other changes she hoped to implement but decided to wait until another time to ask.

  Instead, she finished her tea, bid him a good day, and left him to his reading.

  The newspaper was not nearly as appealing as his wife as he lowered The Times and watched her exit the room, his eyes trained on her trim backside.

  It was impossible to ignore the hardening in his breeches. It was impossible to ignore her. He’d kissed her several times already. Without getting a firm hold on his desires, he’d have her bedded by the close of the week.

  His appalling lack of control worried him. If this was to be a marriage of convenience, he needed to tighten his control on his lust. Once the babe was born, Brenna would certainly tire of life in the country and beg to return to London. If he allowed himself to share her bed, the separation would be all the more difficult for them both.

  “Good morning, Richard,” Miriam said, as she swept through the open door and glanced toward the open windows. She giggled. “Though I suppose it is afternoon now. I do not know how I slept so late.”

  Richard watched her walk over to the sideboard to examine the fare. Frowning, it took him a minute or two to realize there was something different about her.

  Her favored costume of choice, a simple high-necked gown in an uninteresting color, was gone. In place was a bright green dress, cut low to showcase her small bosom and to skim over her thin frame.

  “I have never seen you in green,” Richard said.

  “Do you like the dress?” she asked, and turned around for his inspection. Though she possessed none of Brenna’s delightful curves, the dress was certainly better suited to her coloring than the drab colors she usually preferred.

  “It is quite fetching,” he replied, and was rewarded with a smile. “You should wear color more often. You might entice the unattached young bucks in the park to call.” As her guardian of sorts, he realized he’d been neglectful of his duties toward her. Her future needed consideration. “I think it high time you think about courtship. You have spent too much time fussing over me. You should have a husband and family of your own.”

  Her smile slipped. Richard continued, “Once Brenna familiarizes herself with the household, your duties will be eased. It will free you up to pursue your own interests.”

  Any hope she may have had toward him was over. Though he never saw her in a romantic way, he’d enjoyed her company and felt some fondness for her.

  He watched her over the top of the newspaper as her face began to crumble. She placed a hand over her mouth and hurried from the room, thus confirming the change of appearance had been for him.

  Sighing, he lowered the paper. Miriam needed to forget any fanciful notions she had and find a suitor of her own. Brenna was his wife, and his wife she would stay.

  Even if it meant the death of his sanity.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I have never seen a house so clean,” Brenna said to Mrs. Beal. She dropped the edge of the coverlet and straightened. Just for her own amusement, she’d looked under several beds while she and Mrs. Beal chatted about the staff. Expecting to find at least one dust ball, she was happily disappointed. “Your master must carry a large whip.”

  Mrs. Beal startled. “His Lordship is a kind master, My Lady!” she protested. Then, as if realizing Brenna was jesting, she clucked her tongue, shook her head, and muttered, “That cannot be said for others who reside under this roof.”

  Brenna’s brows arched up. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Mrs. Beal? Certainly you cannot be speaking about me?” she asked innocently.

  “Oh no, My Lady. You are very kind.” The housekeeper flushed. “Some people do like to elevate themselves far above their station.”

  Curiosity welled in Brenna. “I will not pretend that I do not know who you mean. Miss Bethany is not pleased with my arrival. I think she had other plans for my husband.”

  “That woman could try the patience of Job,” Mrs. Beal snapped, and her flush deepened. “Oh, dear. I should not speak so.”

  Brenna reached to touch her arm. “Your secret is safe.” She realized Mrs. Beal was very protective of her employer and had clearly feared Bethany would get her talons into Richard. “I’m certain my husband appreciates having such a staunch ally in you.”

  Mrs. Beal nodded. “After his wife died, he was lost, trapped with his demons. A friend saved him. Then two years ago, those women, and Miss Bethany’s brother, George Bentley, came to stay. I worried His Lordship would be taken by Miss Bethany’s face and not see the wickedness inside her.” She peered askance at Brenna. “I am pleased to see his heart has turned in another direction.”

  The comment brought forward an ache in Brenna’s stomach. Mrs. Beal was so happy that Richard had taken a wife that Brenna could not destroy the housekeeper’s romantic notions.

  “What of Miss Miriam?” Brenna asked. “I see the way she looks at my husband.”

  Mrs. Beal waved
the comment away. “She is better off finding a more settled sort. A vicar perhaps. His Lordship was right not to encourage her.”

  Brenna knew she should not gossip about people she’d only just met. However, as unsettled as she was in her new position as Lady of Beckwith Hall, she wanted to know the players in the game to better prepare herself for what may come.

  “Tell me about Mister George,” she said.

  Appearing to struggle with what she should say against what she wanted to say, Mrs. Beal finally sighed. “Mister George has charmed the entire park. The ladies love him, and their mamas all want him to marry their daughters.”

  The housekeeper’s face tightened. This gave Brenna the impression that she was holding something back. “You do not like him?” she said. “Why?”

  “He is a wily fox, that one,” Mrs. Beal said. “He and his sister are cut from the same soiled cloth.”

  “Interesting,” Brenna said. “Thank you.”

  She thought about all she had learned as the housekeeper excused herself. Alone, Brenna sat on the bed, fatigue bearing down on her. She lay back on the coverlet, her hand open on her abdomen, and stared at the ceiling. “You do take much from me, little one. Soon I will sleep all day and eat everything in sight. I’ll be both tired and fat. For that, I’ll thank you.”

  Smiling softly, she yawned and gently caressed her still-flat belly. “I cannot wait to meet you.”

  Richard stood in the hallway outside the guest bedroom and watched quietly as Brenna’s eyelids drooped closed. It did not take long before her breathing evened out and she slept.

  He turned to shush Lucy as she walked up behind him. “Tell the maids to no longer awaken my wife in the mornings. It appears she and the baby need more sleep.”

  Lucy peered around him and smiled. “My Lady wants to please you, My Lord. She thinks a country wife should rise early.”

  He remembered the conversation with Brenna her first morning here. He woke her early to pique her temper. He did not expect her to follow his directives.

  “She can sleep all day if she wishes.” She looked so peaceful in sleep. An ache grew in his chest. He’d overheard her words to their child and knew she’d do anything to keep the babe safe. And as hard as he tried to steel himself against the worry that he’d lose them, fear still lingered. “I want her pampered. Give her anything she desires.”

  “Yes, Milord.” Lucy nodded. She glanced back at Brenna. “When will you tell the household about the baby?”

  “Soon. I thought it best to wait for a bit, and Brenna agrees. We will allow her to settle here before the fussing begins. There has not been a new babe at the hall in many years. The staff will be in a dither once they discover I am to be a father. So for her sake, and mine, we will give Brenna a few more weeks of peace.”

  Lucy rubbed her palms together. “She has been a dear friend to me,” she said softly. “I long for her happiness.” She looked up at Richard. “I hope she can find it with you.”

  Richard stared into her pretty face. There was fierce loyalty in her eyes. More, she had just handed him the duty to ensure Brenna’s happiness.

  He slowly turned back to watch Brenna sleep. She was stunningly lovely against the backdrop of the bright yellow coverlet and the sunshine from the open window.

  Could she be happy here? Could she be happy as his wife?

  What did he want from her?

  Taking a step backward, Richard turned. “Send a maid up to wake her in two hours. That should give her enough time to rest before supper.” In spite of the overwhelming desire to join his wife on the bed, he knew it would only complicate matters.

  He left Lucy to do his bidding.

  When he returned downstairs, he found Joseph waiting with a letter. “This just arrived, Milord.” He handed over the missive.

  Richard tore it open and read the brief note. “It is from the Runner I hired to find Anne. He confirms that she went missing in Scotland. Nothing more.” He crumpled the paper and stuffed it into his pocket.

  “Will you rejoin the search?” Joseph asked.

  “I will not.” Richard had done all he could. Although he hated knowing she was out there somewhere, unprotected, he had hit a wall in the search. “She clearly does not want to be found. I can do nothing more but pray for her eventual safe return.”

  He spent the rest of the day going over estate books. Thankfully, Andrew kept perfect records.

  The evening meal was quiet, and he was satisfied that the seating arrangement had been settled. He took his rightful place at the head of the table, with Brenna at his side and Lucy next to her. Bethany and Miriam took places nearby. After, he excused himself and went to the library for some much-needed libation.

  Brenna found him there. She walked over as he poured himself a brandy and touched his arm. “I understand you received word about Anne.”

  He tossed back the contents and poured another. “Yes. If you consider no news as news.”

  Brenna winced at the bitterness in his voice and stepped away. Moving to the nearest bookshelf, she ran her fingertips over several volumes about proper crop planting and harvesting.

  “These last weeks have been trying for you,” she said softly. “Your sister ran off with a bounder, you betrayed my father by bedding me, and now you are stuck with a wife and child you do not want. Could your life get any worse?”

  Her words took him aback as they pounded into his brain. Was she mocking him for feeling sorry for himself?

  With only one side of her face to see, he was certain there was wickedness in her expression. The little witch!

  Suddenly, and without warning, a chuckle welled up in him. “You are a wicked wench, Brenna Ashwood.”

  “And you feel entirely too sorry for yourself, Husband.” She returned to him. “Your sister is an adult, free to make her own mistakes. I do not know her, but I think she will find her way through her own life.” She drew in a deep breath. “I promise you that I will come through this pregnancy unscathed and give you a perfect little Ellerby heir for you to brag about to everyone. As for Bethany and Miriam, I will leave them to you and do my best to understand their bitter disappointment over losing you.”

  The chuckle deepened. “How can I enjoy my misery properly when you continue to poke fun at my expense? I knew that I should have found a more agreeable wife.”

  Brenna scoffed. “You did not want a wife, agreeable or otherwise. And I found you.”

  She was too close and too lovely in her spring green frock. The fabric flowed over her delightful curves, enticing him with the fullness of her breasts. Unable to compel himself to walk away, he reached out and pulled her to his chest. Her soft floral scent tweaked his senses. “I shouldn’t kiss you.”

  “You should not,” she agreed, and splayed her hands over his chest. Her touch pushed him over the last barrier of resistance.

  “But I will kiss you anyway.”

  “If you must,” she replied.

  With a low growl, he kissed her soundly.

  A whisper of a sigh escaped her. His arms slipped around her, holding her tight, and every inch of her body welcomed his embrace.

  She felt him harden against her. Her feminine core responded with tingles of need. She kissed him passionately, knowing that the moment would end far too soon and wanting to enjoy his kiss for as long as he allowed.

  When he did break the kiss, his voice was low and harsh. “What you do to me, Wife, can only be called torture.”

  “Take me, Richard,” she begged, pulling at his shirt. She desperately wanted to see him naked, feel his body against hers.

  “I cannot.” He released her. “It was not our agreement.”

  “Damn our agreement,” she said. Feeling his disconnect, she couldn’t bear his rejection. “We are husband and wife.”

  Without waiting for further comment, she went to close the door, locked it, and reached for the laces at the front of her gown. She tugged open the bow.

  “Brenna,” he warned.
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  She did not stop until the bodice gaped open and her full breasts were teetering at the edge of spilling over her corset and chemise. His heated eyes were locked on her, his breathing shallow. She trailed her fingertips over the soft tops of her breasts.

  “You want me,” she said, and pushed her gown down over her hips to puddle at her feet. She reached for the corset. Thankfully, this one laced at the front. Soon, the item joined the gown on the floor.

  “You must stop this.” His protest was without bite.

  “I will not.” She tugged at the chemise, and the straps fell down her arms. Her breasts were covered with only the thin fabric. She lifted the hem and removed her stockings. She thought she heard a low groan. Soon, she was wearing nothing but her chemise.

  Slowly, and what she hoped was seductively, she strolled toward him, her eyes locked on his. “We will not leave this room until you have loved me passionately and thoroughly.”

  He grumbled under his breath, but his eyes were already removing the chemise. She stopped and let one side of the chemise slip down, exposing one breast. Without hesitation, his hand closed over the rounded flesh in a firm caress.

  “How thorough is thorough?” His mouth followed his hand as he bent and tugged her nipple gently between his teeth. She moaned and tangled her fingertips in his hair.

  “At least once,” she breathed. “Possibly twice, if you are willing.”

  Expelling an exasperated sound, he bent and carried her to the desk. “You are a temptress, a witch.”

  Richard sat her on the surface and reached for the neckline of the chemise. Renting it easily with a jerk, the cloth fell away. A laugh-gasp escaped her. He leaned to kiss her other breast, kneading the first with his hand.

  “You are a seductive rogue,” she countered, breathlessly.

  The rain of kisses and caresses sent shivers through her as he moved eagerly down her body, like a man feasting after a long period of deprivation. He was no fop, her husband. His calloused hands, rough and certain, teased and tempted her, moving to places they ought not. When his fingertips found and breached her feminine folds, she nearly came off the desk.