“Why in disguise? ”
“Because he was accused of piracy. Nick is an adventurer who ran afoul of the British navy and wound up marrying an Englishwoman.”
“Raven told me of his marriage, but nothing about why.”
“It is an interesting story, but I was out of the country during most of Nick’s visit, so I’m not privy to the details. I expect you should ask Raven. The two of you seem to be growing close.”
Brynn fell silent at Lucian’s suggestion, remembering her vow to have no intimate interaction with him other than what was strictly necessary to maintain civility.
She gave a cool, curt reply, and turned her attention to the passing landscape outside the carriage window. If she saw the way his lips tightened, she ignored it.
The Edgecomb estate was on the outskirts of London, near Richmond, and along the bank of the Thames River. Brynn felt her nervousness rise as they drew closer, wondering how she would endure the scrutiny of Lucian’s scornful relatives and disdainful acquaintances.
By the time they arrived, a goodly number of guests were milling about the grounds to the rear of the estate. The elegant gardens bore a formal design, with stately rows of yew trees and myrtles lining the smooth gravel paths, interspersed with occasional statuary and giant urns. Beyond, an immaculate lawn led down to the river. Brynn could see rowboats on the water and an archery range that had been set up to provide entertainment.
Lady Edgecomb received Brynn with the same frosty stare as before, yet unlike during their last meeting, the lady seemed prepared to bite her tongue. She extended a stiffly courteous welcome, even though her mouth puckered as if she were sucking lemons.
After a moment of polite conversation, Lucian took Brynn’s arm to stroll the garden avenues and meet the various guests. Several of his cousins were present-both genders and of varying ages. If he disliked any of them, Brynn couldn’t tell, for he exchanged pleasantries with every evidence of his usual charm and appeared to overlook their obvious fawning.
Much to Brynn’s surprise, Lucian seemed almost proud to proclaim her his wife. Even more surprising, he was oddly protective of her. She felt the heat of his body as he stood close beside her, the strength of his hand that rested so casually at the small of her back, but for once she accepted his possessive touch with gratitude rather than dismay. Despite the cold reserve that existed in their marriage, he apparently had decided to shield her from the sniping and criticism of his relatives.
Brynn was quite aware that they were the center of attention-not just herself, but Lucian as well. Other women followed him with their eyes, hunger evident in their expressions, a hunger Lucian appeared not to notice.
The first half hour passed without incident, even when they encountered Lady Agatha again. The dowager’s chill seemed to thaw marginally, but when Lucian ushered Brynn toward another group, she audibly let out her breath.
“Relieved?” he murmured, as if understanding.
“Yes. That wasn’t as bad as I feared. At least your aunt didn’t swallow me alive.”
Lucian’s mouth curved in a wry half smile. “I never expected her to. I’m certain you can hold your own with Lady Agatha or anyone else.”
His praise unaccountably warmed Brynn, but just then she caught the reflection of sunlight off the river. The pastoral scene could have been an oil painting, with willows growing along the bank and fleecy clouds scudding overhead.
“How lovely. May we walk that way?”
“As you wish, my lady.”
When Lucian offered his arm, she took it and strolled with him down toward the river.
“This is nothing like the ocean,” she said wistfully, pausing to view the scene. “But I miss having a view of the water. I miss being able to swim whenever I wish.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. A sea siren should be allowed to cavort in her kingdom.”
She heard the amusement in his tone and glanced up at Lucian to find him regarding her with an intimate warmth in his eyes.
“I’m afraid you cannot swim just now,” he added, “but if you like, we can return here at another time so you can indulge your secret vice.”
Brynn felt herself tense at the unwanted tender moment between them. Her pleasure faded, as did Lucian’s smile.
“Come,” he said evenly, “there are more guests to meet.”
He had just turned her back toward the house when a fair-haired gentleman crossed the lawn to intercept them. Lucian’s features showed genuine affection as the two men greeted each another.
“My dear, let me make known one of my closest friends, Dare North, Earl of Clune-and now the Marquess of Wolverton. Dare came into the title recently when his grandfather passed away.”
Wolverton flashed a wickedly charming smile as he bowed over her hand. “A pleasure, my lady. I heard Lucian hung himself in the parson’s noose, but after seeing what a lovely lady he chose, I can almost understand why. The rumors of your beauty don’t do you justice.”
Brynn kept her own answering smile curt. She had no intention of arousing male attention, certainly not that of a rake like Lord Clune-or Wolverton, she amended. He was a rogue of the first order and one of the founders of the Hellfire League. News of his outrageous exploits had penetrated even to Cornwall.
“I have heard of you as well, my lord. Your reputation precedes you.”
His grin was slow and lazy and in its own way as powerfully magnetic as her husband’s. “I am not nearly as wicked as the gossips make me out to be.”
Lucian’s laugh held amusement. “Don’t believe it for a minute, my dear. Dare has half the ladies in England swooning over him, and the other half quaking in outrage at his scandals.”
Wolverton actually winked at her, which made Brynn struggle to swallow a smile. She could well understand his dangerous appeal to the ladies.
“I don’t suppose you have any sisters?” Wolverton asked in a leading tone.
“I have five brothers, my lord.”
“A pity-”
Just then Raven came up to them. “Clune!” she exclaimed after pressing cheeks with Brynn in greeting. “Or I should say Wolverton…When did you get back from inspecting your new family seat?”
Surprisingly, he bussed her cheek with a kiss that held more brotherly affection than ardor. “I returned just this morning, vixen. I trust you have missed me.”
“Most certainly. No one but you appreciates a good gallop in the park. I’ll wager half the female population has found London impossibly dull without you.”
“I should hope so. Where is Halford?”
Raven waved in the direction of the house. “Speaking with some of his friends. He has no skills in archery, and I am dying to learn.” Her betrothed, the Duke of Halford, was some twenty years her senior, Brynn knew, and had no interest in most of Raven’s activities. “Do come with me, Brynn. Pickering has offered to teach me to shoot, and I don’t wish to be the only novice.”
After glancing at Lucian, Brynn nodded and excused herself.
Both noblemen followed her progress as she and Raven joined a group of gentlemen at the archery butts. Lucian didn’t much like seeing Brynn consorting with the same young bucks who had written poetry to her last week, but he could hardly forbid her participation in an innocuous sport, held in public and in broad daylight. Especially when she could claim so few acquaintances in her new life.
He felt a measure of guilt over that. He hadn’t made the transition easy for Brynn, leaving her alone so much of the time. But he’d thought it best to avoid her, for her sake as well as his own. Being in her company made his own dilemma that much more difficult. His fierce need to visit her bed each night was growing out of control. He was becoming obsessed- and that knowledge disturbed him deeply.
When he heard a throat being politely cleared, he realized Dare was watching him with an unusually somber expression.
“You always did have exquisite taste in women, Luce, but marriage?”