Brynn bit back a sigh, knowing she couldn’t avoid her dearest friend’s pointed questions, no matter how intimate. “I did not have much choice. My family’s financial circumstances had grown dire. And Lord Wycliff offered to fund Theo’s education.”
“Are you happy, then? I couldn’t deduce a thing from your letters.”
“Happy?” Brynn went still, dismayed to realize her feelings of late had indeed bordered on happiness. Dangerously so.
“I am happy enough,” she murmured. “At least now. The initial weeks were… exceedingly disagreeable. We fought all the time. Lucian purchased me for a broodmare, and I resented his high-handedness-so much that I fear I became a shrew. We were both miserable.”
“But it is better now?”
She looked away. “We no longer quarrel, thankfully. We came to a truce of sorts.”
“Well, you could not expect two strangers to get along perfectly. And I should think you wouldn’t find the marriage bed in the least unpleasant. Wycliff is rumored to be quite a passionate man, for all his elegance and sophistication. You don’t mean to tell me the rumors lie?”
Brynn felt herself flush. “No, they don’t lie.”
“And that is what worries you?” Meredith asked. “It’s only natural that you would be swayed by his legendary charm. Wycliff has never had the least trouble winning female hearts. But there is real danger if you come to fall in love with him.”
“Yes,” Brynn agreed. She was finding it more and more difficult to battle the unexpected threat to her heart. She was becoming ensnared in Lucian’s potent spell, just as she’d feared she would be. “I admit,” she said in a low voice, “that terrifies me.”
Meredith gazed at her in sympathy. “So what do you mean to do?”
“I don’t know,” Brynn murmured. “I don’t dare let myself become too enamored of him. That is why I… We made a pact. Lucian agreed that after I bear him an heir, we can go our separate ways.”
Meredith’s expression showed dismay. “Separate ways? Does that mean you would have to give up your child to him?”
Brynn felt her heart lurch. Absurdly, she hadn’t considered that far into the future, although she certainly should have. Lucian wanted a son so badly, he would never allow her to keep their child if she left him.
“Could you endure that?” her friend asked quietly.
Brynn’s throat tightened. “I’m not certain I could.”
“Well,” Meredith said with sudden cheerful briskness, “there is no use stewing over that bridge until you must cross it. And perhaps by then you will have found a way to break the curse.”
Brynn stared, struck by her friend’s casual remark. Was it possible the curse could be broken?
“Perhaps so,” she murmured slowly, not daring to let herself hope.
Her defenses, however, suffered yet another blow the following week. Brynn was about to descend to breakfast when she heard a commotion issuing from the floor above. Curiously mounting the service stairs, she followed the din to the serving maids’ dormer. To her dismay, she found her maid, Meg, on her knees, sobbing, while the housekeeper stood over her, railing at the frightened girl.
Both women ceased their clamor when they caught sight of Brynn, but almost instantly Meg burst into renewed weeping.
“Oh, milady,” she pleaded, “don’t let her turn me out!”
“Be quiet, you disgraceful girl!” Mrs. Poole snapped.
“What seems to be the problem?” Brynn asked coolly.
“She is in the family way.” The housekeeper pointed at the maid’s stomach, adding in a revolted tone, “Look at that!”
The thin nightdress did nothing to disguise the girl’s thickening belly, while a chamber pot stood beside an unmade cot, attesting to at least one bout of morning sickness.
With effort, Brynn swallowed her shock. The sweet, timid Meg was the last person she would have suspected of bearing a child out of wedlock. She had never noticed the girl’s condition until now, perhaps because she’d been so wrapped up in her own affairs.
“I found her lazing abed, too ill to work,” the housekeeper went on. “Then I discovered this and dismissed her.”
“I beg you, milady,” Meg entreated, “don’t let her-”
“I told you to hush!” Striking savagely, Mrs. Poole slapped Meg’s face, making her cry out.
Outraged, Brynn moved between them. “That will be quite enough, Mrs. Poole!”
“A box on the ears is not nearly enough! She deserves to be soundly thrashed for her wicked behavior.”
Brynn narrowed her eyes. “If you dare strike her again, you will be the one dismissed.”
Mrs. Poole pointed again at the quaking maid. “I won’t have this shameless wanton in my employ!”
“I don’t believe that is your decision to make.”
The housekeeper drew herself upright, quivering with rage. “Choosing the household staff has always been my purview. Mine and Mr. Naysmith’s.”
“Perhaps it was, but I am mistress here now.” Brynn glanced down at the girl. “Do get up, Meg. The floor cannot be comfortable.”
Trembling, Meg obeyed. “Please, milady…” She latched desperately on to Brynn’s arm, evidently seeing her as a savior. “What will become of me if I’m thrown into the street?”
“You will not be thrown into the street,” Brynn assured her.
The housekeeper made a rude, scoffing sound. “She will not even disclose the father of her bastard- if she even knows his name.”
Meg’s shoulders stiffened, while her weeping subsided the slightest degree. “Certainly I know it. I just won’t tell you.”
“You disgraceful jezebel,” Mrs. Poole interjected, “luring some man into sin-” She broke off suddenly, flushing as she glanced over Brynn’s shoulder, toward the doorway. “M-my lord…”
Lucian stood there, surveying the three women curiously.
Brynn felt herself stiffen. It reflected badly on all three of them that not only had his lordship’s peace been upset, but that he was required to visit the servants’ quarters to investigate the cause. Yet discomfiting Lucian wasn’t what worried her; rather, his presence roused her protective instincts.
She had no idea how he would react to such a major transgression by one of his young servants- whether he would endorse Meg’s dismissal or show leniency because of his own rakish past. It would be better for the girl, Brynn realized, if she could handle the problem herself. She would no doubt have a fight on her hands with the housekeeper, though.
“That will be all, Mrs. Poole,” Brynn said before the woman could speak up. “You may go.”
The housekeeper raised her chin stubbornly. “I should like to hear what his lordship has to say about the matter, my lady.”
“We needn’t trouble his lordship.” She sent Lucian a faint smile. “I regret the disturbance. It will not happen again.”
He raised an eyebrow and gave her a long look, then glanced at the housekeeper, who had pursed her lips as if she had swallowed vinegar.
“I trust you understand, Mrs. Poole,” Lucian said mildly, “that Lady Wycliff is mistress here. She commands household matters.”
His implied threat made the housekeeper’s starch wilt. “Yes, of course, my lord,” she answered meekly.
As rigid as stone, Mrs. Poole turned away, daring only a brief, scathing glance at Meg before she left the room.
Brynn flashed her husband a genuine smile this time, grateful that he had chosen not to undermine her authority. Her influence was shaky enough, given that her marriage to Lucian had been so contentious in the past. The servants could not have failed to see the chill between them.
Lucian was still watching her. “I had hoped I might have the pleasure of your company for breakfast, my love,” he said lightly.
“I will be down directly, but… I would like a few moments here first.”
“Certainly. I shall see you shortly.”