A Convenient Bride Read online

  The shock could not have been greater had he told Brenna that someone had witnessed her murdering the maid. She had to take a moment to collect her thoughts before she could speak. When she did, her voice was no more than a whisper.

  “How can that be?” She often wrote her family and friends; thus, the paper could have come from anywhere and anyone. Still, it worried her that a killer may have dropped her writing paper during the murder. “Are you certain?”

  “Simon confirmed it. I have a Runner friend who let me see the note. I described it to your brother. It contains the same swan pattern as the notes you send.”

  Brenna turned to Richard. Her stomach burned. “Mother had the paper printed for my twentieth birthday. She designed it herself, as she knows I adore swans. No one else shares that design. Simon would know it well.”

  “The Runners know it, too,” Jace said. “I have come ahead to warn you. After they have checked out the inn, they will come here. I thought you should be ready.”

  Richard reached for her hand. “They cannot suspect Brenna.”

  Jace shook his head. “They do not, for many reasons. They want to speak to you about your friends, family, and acquaintances. They think the killer is someone you know.”

  The many people she’d met through her lifetime blurred through her mind. She tried to think of anyone who could be capable of these horrible deaths and could not name a single man who stood out.

  “I don’t believe this,” Brenna said. “Surely this man could not walk among us as if nothing were amiss. He has to be a monster.”

  “He is,” Jace said. “But on the outside he could appear quite normal.” He stood and walked to the fountain. “Some years ago a bookkeeper in New York was arrested for killing two prostitutes. He buried the first in his garden and was caught with the body of the second one in his home. He was small and meek, not what you would picture in a killer. Yet he did kill.”

  Crickets chirped in the night while Brenna pondered all she’d heard. Suddenly, she wished she had stayed inside after all.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Richard paced the clearing, fear gripping him to his bones. He’d thought the incident with the carriage had been a onetime dangerous prank, by someone with a grudge against him or someone at the hall, and the tree fire, an accident.

  Now a killer was loose and may be stalking his wife?

  He turned to stare into the darkness, unsure of what he expected to see. All he knew was that he needed to tell Jones about the incidents. The time for keeping secrets from Brenna was over.

  He raked his hands through his hair. “There is something you should know.” He pulled in a deep breath. “Last fall someone tampered with one of our carriages by cutting a bolt. The wheel broke when Brenna and I were out. It was through God’s good grace that we were largely uninjured.”

  Brenna shifted on the seat. “You told me the broken bolt was accidental.” Anger flashed in her eyes. “You kept the truth from me?”

  Jace stepped between them before Brenna could start an argument. “That is odd. If the cut bolt was meant to harm someone and failed, why didn’t the culprit try again?”

  Glancing past Jace to Brenna, Richard gritted his teeth and knew his wife would take off his head for keeping the truth from her. Still, he had to tell Jace. There was no way around it.

  “Last Christmas we had a fire. Someone put a candle under the children’s tree, and it burned. Mrs. Beal was certain the candle was not there when she went to bed.”

  “Lud,” Brenna bit out.

  “Could it have been accidental?” Jace interjected.

  “We do not know,” Richard said. “No one came forward to confess. It remains a mystery.”

  Silence fell. Richard wondered if Brenna was plotting his demise. She hated being coddled, and he’d kept two very big secrets from her.

  When he looked past Jones, there was no anger on her face. In fact, she looked rather controlled.

  “Richard?” Brenna shifted again and rubbed her back. “There is something I have not told you, either.”

  “What is it?”

  “Last fall, and a few times over the winter, things of mine disappeared and were later put back, like my favorite brush or shawl. I’d notice the item missing, and then when the search turned up nothing, it would mysteriously return.”

  “And you did not tell me this until now?” Richard said. He tamped down his temper. They’d both kept secrets.

  “I thought it was either my own forgetfulness or someone playing pranks.” She stretched her back. “My arrival was not exactly welcomed by everyone in the household.”

  The two men shared a glance. “I find it difficult to believe a killer would stoop to such a spiteful game,” Jace said. “Still, if the prankster is our killer, then the person lives in or has access to your household.”

  “I suspected it was Bethany and still hold that belief,” Brenna admitted. “She would like nothing more than to see me flee to London and never return.”

  “It is possible,” Richard agreed. “I’d rather consider a jealous woman behind the matter than a killer roaming my household unnoticed.” Richard paused and tried to put all the incidents together. The pieces did not match. “The hidden brush sounds like a petty prank that Bethany would do. The fire and the carriage accident caused real danger. I’m convinced they are separate matters.”

  Jace nodded. “As do I, though it is best to keep vigilant in case we are mistaken.”

  Brenna stood. “The baby is restless.” She bent forward and kneaded her back. Richard went to her and took her arm. With her large belly hindering her balance, he worried she might topple forward.

  “We can continue this conversation tomorrow,” Richard said. “Jones, will you stay at Beckwith Hall tonight?”

  “I’d be grateful. The inn is currently overrun with Bow Street Runners. My friend, Freemont, will not be pleased to know I have come to you first. It ruins their surprise arrival.”

  The trio returned to the common room and found Lucy. They left George, Bethany, and Miriam to enjoy the rest of the evening and took Brenna home.

  Once Jace was sent off to a guest room with a maid, Richard swung Brenna into his arms and carried her up the stairs.

  “I am able to walk,” she protested, but snuggled against him anyway. Lucy trailed along behind.

  Her belly made the effort of carrying her challenging, though she was still quite light. “Indulge me. The evening was long, and you are tired. I’d rather carry you than have you fall asleep halfway up the stairs.”

  Brenna pressed her face to his neck, and her warm breath stirred interest below. Well, that and the fullness of her breast pushing up from the neckline of her gown. Their growth had been one aspect of her pregnancy that he had enjoyed, even if they were only lusted over from a distance.

  Damn. He hated cold baths.

  “I can stay with her tonight, My Lord,” Lucy offered, when they entered Brenna’s room. She helped Brenna out of her gown. “I think her time is close.”

  “No, thank you, Lucy. I’ll stay.”

  Lucy nodded. “Yes, Milord.”

  He walked through to his room and found Miles waiting. The valet stripped him down to his trousers and shirt. “Miles, have you seen anything unusual in the hall over the last few months? A stranger lurking or unusual incidents that brought questions?”

  Miles hung the coat in the wardrobe. “I have not. Has something happened, Milord?”

  Richard briefly filled him in on Jones’s news.

  “That is troubling,” Miles said. “There has been no hint of anything untoward that I can recall. Should I alert the staff to keep watch for strangers on the property?”

  “I think you should,” Richard agreed. “Try not to start a panic, especially among the maids. Tell them to keep vigilant and not to wander the grounds alone.”

  “Yes, Milord.”

  Richard left Miles and returned to Brenna. She was abed, dressed in a nightdress of white. She was
so beautiful. “You look virginal in white, Wife.”

  Brenna smiled and cupped her belly. “You jest, Husband. I’d not be mistaken for virginal in this condition.”

  He walked to the bed. “I should sleep in the chair.”

  “Please sleep with me.” She reached out her hand. “My back hurts. It would pleasure me greatly if you’d rub out the aches.”

  He allowed her to tug him down beside her. “It is comforting to know I can be of use. Roll over.”

  Propping herself at as much of an angle as manageable, Brenna groaned happily as he kneaded her back for several minutes with gentle strokes. “I am in heaven,” she purred.

  The husky sound raced from his ears to his cock, stirring an erection. He struggled not to let his hands roam at will over her softer parts. “Your feet are swollen, your back pains you, and you complain of burning in your chest. What part of this is heaven?”

  She chuckled. “If you rubbed my back whenever I asked, I would have no more complaints.”

  Snorting, he pressed harder into her lower back with his fingertips. She groaned again. He wanted desperately to ease her onto her back and push up her nightdress. Living under this roof with Brenna was driving him mad. He couldn’t sleep, nor could he concentrate on anything but her.

  The sooner she returned to London, the better it would be for them both.

  When his hands grew tired, he lay down beside her. She turned around and snuggled against him. Soon her breathing evened out, and she fell asleep.

  He knew he should go to the chair, but the night was chilly, and Brenna was warm. He pulled the quilt up and relaxed back, hoping sleep would find him as easily.

  The baby had other plans. He felt movement where her belly pressed his rib cage. He froze and was rewarded with a sharp kick. Surprised, he held his breath. The little mite never seemed willing to show himself around his father, though Brenna occasionally, and futilely, put his hand over the places where the baby kicked.

  Now he was kicking quite vigorously. Richard slid a hand between them and marveled at the wonder of the new life.

  Had his worries been unjustified? Would Brenna and the baby survive the birth? Would she give him a healthy son or daughter as she promised?

  “Our child cannot wait to meet you,” Brenna whispered.

  “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I was, until the babe decided to kick up a ruckus.” She closed her hand over his. She knitted their fingertips together. “You are thinking about Millicent and your lost son.”

  He said nothing.

  Brenna lifted her head and rested it on her hand. “Tell me about them.”

  For a moment he thought to refuse. Then just as suddenly, he wanted to unburden himself to Brenna. Tonight was a time to share secrets. He might as well tell her the story she desperately wanted to hear.

  He rolled over to face her and began his tale. “Millicent was the first girl I ever loved. Her father was a baron and friends with one of my neighbors. We met at a picnic, and I was taken with her. The friendship grew with the years until we were old enough to wed.”

  “You were happy?”

  “I was. I think she married me not for love but for security. Her father was a wastrel who gambled them into debt.” He sighed. “The marriage was troubled from the first. She was fragile, moody, and sometimes withdrawn. Eventually, I suspected an affair with a soldier she’d met at a party, but there was no proof, only my own jealous mind.” He closed his eyes. “When she announced her pregnancy, I was pleased. I refused to consider that the baby was not mine.”

  “She told you it wasn’t?”

  “No. She assured me I was the father and she’d not been unfaithful.” His face hardened. “Then one night, I caught her sneaking out the kitchen door wearing only a nightdress. I confronted her. She denied that she was going out to meet a lover. We argued, and she ran from the hall. It was raining. By the time I found her some two hours later, she’d collapsed in the garden, racked with chills from the cold.”

  “Oh, Richard.” She squeezed his hand.

  “She caught a fever and went into labor the next afternoon. The physician tried to save them, but the babe came too early and Millicent was too weak. They did not survive the night.”

  A tear rolled down her face. “How tragic. And you blame yourself.”

  “I killed them, Brenna,” he said softly. “The same as if I’d taken a gun to her.”

  Brenna touched the side of his face. He closed his lids. “This was not your fault. You could not have known she would run away into the night.”

  “We should not have quarreled,” he countered. “If not for the nightdress and her lack of a reasonable explanation for her actions, I had no solid proof that she had a lover. Nor was there proof the baby was not mine. Whispered gossip was all it was. I just did not trust her.”

  “Yet you loved her.”

  Richard met her eyes. “I believe I did. I was a child when we met and became infatuated with her beauty. I think part of our unhappiness came from being married young and my father’s death soon after. I was weighted with responsibilities and frequently left her alone while I tried to untangle the financial mess my father had left behind.”

  It was a sad bit of history. “When did you meet my father?”

  “After the burial, I took to drinking, gaming, and whoring in an attempt to assuage my guilt and blur the pain. I was well on my way to killing myself when I ran, literally, into your father coming out of a tavern. I was drunk and took offense when he refused to apologize for what was my fault. When I swung at him, he hit me in the jaw, hard, and I went out.”

  Brenna smiled. “My father is tough.”

  He nodded. “I woke up at his town house. Your parents nursed me through days, maybe weeks, while my body cleared away the whiskey and ale, and my mind regained focus. Once I was sober, your father gave me a choice. Either I stop my destructive behavior or he’d dump me back where he found me and be done with the entire affair.”

  “Father can be forceful.”

  “I chose the first, and though there were dark times, your parents had faith. They watched over me and became two of my dearest friends.”

  Brenna could not remember him. Mother and Father must have kept him away from her and her brothers. Then, she was on the cusp of her first season and her mind was on young men. She would not have noticed if there had been a giraffe living in the study.

  This story explained much about his closeness to her parents and why he’d been so guilt-ridden after he’d taken her innocence. “That is why you married me. You felt you betrayed them.”

  “I still do.” He pulled his hand from hers. “I knew what I was doing that night in the inn. I could have stopped it. But you were so enticing, so lovely.”

  Brenna’s expression softened. “Thank you for telling me this.” She slid closer to him and leaned her head on his arm. “Soon we will revisit what we want for our own marriage. But first, we have a baby to welcome into the world.”

  The next three days tried Brenna’s patience, as everything seemed to go awry. Her back hurt, food tasted bland, and Bethany seemed to take joy in wearing her most scandalous dresses and flirting outrageously with Richard. The wench knew Brenna was feeling large and unattractive, and it was her want to stand near Brenna, as if to show Richard the marked difference between them.

  “Do not worry, dearest,” Lucy said, during a moment after supper on the third day when Brenna was near tears. “You will soon be giving your husband a gift she cannot. His heir. He cares for you and barely gives her notice. She is a desperate and grasping woman, and it shows.”

  The comment was made to give comfort, but it fell flat when Bethany touched Richard’s arm and leaned in, giving him a full view of her pushed-up cleavage.

  From Brenna’s point of view, she could not see whether he was taking advantage of the moment for a peek or keeping his attention on Bethany’s face. All she knew was that she’d had enough of the woman flaunting hers
elf before her husband. Heat burned up her neck to flame across her face.

  She took one step forward, then two, ready to kill.

  Without warning, a sharp pain doubled her over. She whimpered, the urge to wring Bethany’s neck instantly forgotten. A second pain came, and she cried out.

  “Brenna!” Lucy hurried over and took her by the elbow.

  “It’s the baby,” Brenna said, struggling to keep on her feet. “I think the baby is coming!”

  In a flash, Richard was at her side. “It’s the baby,” Lucy told him, and he swept Brenna into his arms.

  “Send for the midwife and a messenger to the Harringtons in London,” he ordered. “Get Mrs. Beal. She will know what to do.”

  Lucy hurried off to do his bidding. He raced from the room, weighted down by her swollen belly. “No arguments, love, I intend to carry you, and that is final.”

  Brenna winced as another pain came, and she gripped his coat. “It hurts too much to do anything but whimper.” Her attempt at levity failed when another pain gripped her.

  “Richard, it hurts.”

  “I know, love.” Once he got to her room, he paused, then continued down the hallway to his bedroom. “The baby will be born here.”

  “A footman has been sent for the midwife,” Lucy said, arriving on their heels. “We need to get her out of her gown.”

  By the time Richard and Lucy got her undressed and into a nightdress, Mrs. Beal had come in, several maids in tow, each carrying the supplies needed for the birth. She directed two of the girls to smooth out a thick pad on the bed to protect the mattress, and Richard helped Brenna into bed.

  “With a first baby, it will be some time before he or she makes an appearance,” Mrs. Beal said, and tucked Brenna under a warm blanket. “The pains will be irregular, then come more frequently as the birth progresses.”

  While the women flittered around, Brenna pulled Richard down on the bed beside her. He clasped her hands in his.