“I certainly hope you’re right.”
Petra could almost hear Simon frowning in distaste.
“Why would Katherine invite them? Morwick and I haven’t spoken in years; not since the debacle in Oxford. Not even when we bumped into each other in Castleton several months ago. And you’ve never cared for Marissa. Good Lord, I’m not even sure how to refer to her anymore, she’s married so many times.”
Petra pressed herself against the paneling, thinking how unkind the comment about Lady Cupps-Foster had been. As if it were her fault she’d been widowed and her husbands had died so tragically.
“Don’t be unreasonable. In hindsight, Katherine was right to invite them. Morwick is our closest neighbor regardless of your rather acrimonious relationship. And he has recently done you a great service in assisting Lady Marsh and Lady Petra. Thank goodness he did so; otherwise, your intended might still be stranded out on the moors. Their coachman should be fired for driving them so far off the main road. I’m surprised he hasn’t been. Perhaps I’ll suggest such a thing to Lady Marsh.”
“Katherine never does anything purely because it’s the right thing to do, as well you know. Good Lord, you don’t suppose she’s carrying on with him again, do you? I thought that was over and done with long ago. She married Whitfield and thankfully moved away. When we were younger, I never understood why Father tolerated Katherine’s relationship with Morwick, though now, of course, I see why.”
Petra winced at the sudden tightening of her stomach.
Fine porcelain rattled. “Your sister assures me nothing has occurred…yet. Perhaps we should allow her to pursue the diversion of Morwick, something to take her mind from Whitfield’s loss. She’s always had an odd fascination for him. I would have much preferred she pursue the elder brother, but Morwick is rather appealing I suppose, in a savage sort of way. Allow Katherine her little affair. No one outside of Brushbriar need know about it.”
Simon cursed. “It’s distasteful.”
“Don’t be such a prig. Would you rather she marry him? I am hopeful she will show an interest in Haddon.” The sound of glass meeting china sounded again.
“Mother, really. Drinking brandy this early in the morning? It’s a good thing you don’t venture to London. I can’t have you drunkenly stumbling about. Imagine what my detractors would say. My mother a sot, and my sister—”
“It’s for my cough. Dr. Stubbins assured me having a little brandy in my tea was beneficial.”
Another cough sounded. “You won’t have any detractors, Simon, unless your future wife does something scandalous.”
Petra pressed her palms against the wall, careful to make no sound.
“Doubtful. I chose Petra specifically for her decorum and obedient nature. She’s as docile as can be. Well-mannered. Attractive, but not overly so. And she hasn’t a reckless bone in her body. If anything, she’s a tad dull. It’s unfortunate her family is related to the Duke of Dunbar, but I can turn such a thing into an advantage.”
I’d no idea I was so boring and tedious. Petra was clenching her fists so tightly she could feel the press of her nails into her palms. Nor my family connections so questionable.
“She strikes me as stubborn,” Lady Pendleton said. “The way she looked me straight in the eye upon her arrival doesn’t speak of a docile nature. Best you take a firm hand with her right from the start.”
“What about Morwick?”
Yes. What about Morwick? Petra was sorting through the conversation trying to determine exactly what the point was, but all she could think about was Morwick with Katherine and Simon’s rather poor assessment of her character.
“There’s no proof, so you must cease your worry.” Lady Pendleton began coughing again, and Simon stayed silent until she was finished.
When he finally spoke, Petra was surprised to hear fear instead of his usual measured confidence. “If Morwick were to ever truly suspect, not even my sister’s numerous charms would keep him from the truth. He’d go to his cousin, the duke.”
“Yet another reason to keep him and his mother close. And marriage to Petra would assure some relationship with the duke. Sometimes I think it would have been easier if Morwick had…” The words lowered and trailed off.
Petra sidestepped her way back down the hall, careful to make no sound as she did so. Eavesdropping never did anyone any good, especially Petra. Simon wanted her because she was dull and possessed not a lick of spirit. Morwick and Katherine’s involvement with each other was common knowledge. Lady Pendleton liked brandy in her tea and was potentially a sot. That was the only piece of information she’d gleaned that Petra found amusing. The remainder of what she’d overheard Petra found curious, though she wasn’t sure what she should do with the information or exactly what it all meant. Until she did, Petra meant to keep things to herself.
Once she reached a suitable distance, Petra turned and made her way loudly back down the hall again, toward the parlor. “Lord Pendleton? Simon?”
A moment later, Simon’s dark head poked through the open doorway. “Are you perchance looking for me?” He spoke in a cheery voice, as if he hadn’t just been telling his mother what an obedient dimwit she was. “Shall we take a walk?”
14
Brendan crossed and uncrossed his legs within the confines of the coach. Why couldn’t manufacturers of coaches and carriages make a conveyance to accommodate a man of his height? He wasn’t the tallest man in England, for God’s sake. There was a gent in Buxton who was far larger than Brendan, though Big Tom farmed sheep and likely had little need for a coach.
“Really, Brendan. Can you not settle? Even as a child, you were forever flip flopping about like a tiny goldfish struggling to find its way back into a pond.” Mother’s deep blue eyes twinkled in amusement. “I do miss those days.” She straightened. “Whatever are you nervous about?”
“I’m not a child, Mother. I haven’t been for some time. Nor am I a goldfish. If you haven’t noticed, I have overly long legs and the coach is a small space. Discomfort is what I am feeling.”
“Unsettled.” She corrected him. “You have been for some time.”
“Yes, since we climbed into this coach to head to Brushbriar. The mere thought of eating at Simon’s table for the next few days unsettles me to no end.” Mother didn’t know about Oxford; why should she? He’d told no one. Even now, the memory rankled him. He should have allowed Simon to be beaten to a pulp that night.
A very unladylike snort filled the coach. “Fine. Continue to be obtuse. Perhaps you are only wishing to catch a glimpse of Katherine. Awful girl.” His mother’s nose wrinkled as if she caught a whiff of something unpleasant.
“Mother, I hate to spoil your assumptions, but I’ve already seen Katherine. I visited Brushbriar a few weeks after her return to offer my condolences on the passing of Lord Whitfield. She’s smashing in widow’s weeds, by the way.”
“I’ll not pretend I’m unhappy things didn’t work out between you two. You would have been estranged within a year. Tales of her escapades still echo throughout the ton. Affairs should be discreet, not be flaunted for all to see.”
Mother had worried needlessly. No woman, even Katherine, was worth the potential damage to his heart; at least, he’d assumed such.
The slim lines of Petra’s delicious stocking-clad legs clasped around his waist, instead of dangling from a tree above him, were all he’d thought of for days. As he’d readied himself for the trip to Brushbriar, Brendan had realized the days in Buxton hadn’t really alleviated his desire for Petra. Being in close proximity to the object of his lust, while under Simon’s roof, was stupid and foolish, especially since he was certain he wouldn’t be able to keep his distance. The mere smell of roses and sugar cookies, and Brendan would lose his resolve. When she was close, terror and desire mixed together in an unwelcome way.
“I’ve no interest in Katherine,” he said, his voice gruff, “so you may put your fears to rest.”
“Good, since I assume she’
ll try to seduce you at some point during the house party.” Mother plucked at her skirts.
“There are times, Mother, when I dislike your bluntness.”
“How else should I be? I have been married three times and am a Dunbar to boot. Goodness, Brendan, I may be your mother, but I am still a woman. I know what lengths a lady will go to in order to seduce a man.”
He shifted in his seat. “This conversation is adding to my discomfort, Mother. May we speak of something else? This tedious house party, for instance. And the fact I am here under duress. You don’t even care for Lady Pendleton. You’ve made no attempt to call on her since you’ve come to stay at Somerton.”
“It would be far truer to say Lydia doesn’t care for me. Nor did she like your father. I’m sure we were invited for the sake of appearances, especially after your assistance to Lady Marsh. Imagine if all of the county arrives at Brushbriar and we aren’t present. Everyone would gossip. Lydia would never wish to invite such attention. Certainly Simon would not. I suppose Lydia never did forgive Spence for punching Simon in the nose all those years ago, though Simon certainly deserved it. Little tyrant.”
“Don’t blame Spence; he was only defending me. I was an easy target for Simon.” He had been until Brendan had turned fifteen and his stature had nearly doubled overnight. Before then, Brendan had been a small, squat lad with big feet. Easy pickings for the much larger Simon, whom all the boys in Castleton worshipped. “Spence preferred to have the unshared duty of bullying me, and Simon disagreed.” Though Brendan and his brother argued about nearly everything, the two were still close. He trusted Spence with his life.
“I miss that little boy.” A wistful look crossed his mother’s face.
What she enjoyed about the smelly child he had been, Brendan didn’t know. Most of the time, he’d been covered with dirt and had bugs in his pockets. He shifted against the squabs again. Mother was often sentimental.
Brow raised, she took in his immense form crowding the small space of the coach. “You’re built like your cousin, Nick, and my father. Large, giant men who are fond of ruining perfectly good furniture that does not accommodate their enormous frames. Your brother was fortunate not to inherit the Dunbar build.”
True. Spence was an inch or two shorter than Brendan with the natural agility of an athlete. Spence was also quite deadly. His mother surely knew about that aspect of her eldest son’s life, though they never discussed it. She continued to tell people Spence was an attaché for the British government in India.
A lie no one in London believed.
“I will be glad to have Spencer home with us at the end of the year. He promises to return to England in time for Christmas. I will expect you in London as well, my love. I wish to have all my ducklings in one place. We have not celebrated as a family in ages.”
She had called them that as children. Ducklings. It wasn’t enough she raised her two boys alone, but also Brendan’s orphaned cousins, Nick and Arabella. She’d had to be mother for all of them while caring for her own ailing mother, Brendan’s grandmother. Not to mention defying the elderly Duke of Dunbar when the situation warranted it. She deserved to have them all together if that was what she wished. Brendan would ensure Spence was home. “It’s only midsummer, Mother. Plenty of time for you to plan something spectacular. I would not disappoint you for the world.”
She smiled indulgently and patted his knee. “I know you will not.”
Brendan could see her excitement at the thought of hosting such a gathering, even though it was many months away. Was his mother bored? For years, Mother had acted as chaperone to Arabella, since the death of Lord Cupps-Foster, a man no one missed. He wasn’t even sure why Mother had married Cupps-Foster, a hothead with the temperament of a bull. Brendan had detested him. Was she lonely? Now that Arabella was happily settled, Mother must be at loose ends. Perhaps she would take an interest in one of the dozens of charities Arabella seemed always to be involved in. He couldn’t imagine she’d marry again. Mother was quite unlucky in marriage and love.
The point of avoiding Petra. Exactly.
“Ah! Here we are. Brushbriar. It’s as lovely as I remember.” Mother peered out the window as the coach passed through the gates. “You know I begged your father to update Somerton, but he refused. His pride, you see, as we most certainly would have needed to use my personal funds, something Reggie didn’t wish to do. Somerton wasn’t near as prosperous as Brushbriar, especially after Pendleton found Blue John. I’m sure Lydia spent a small fortune to update the estate. She was always more than a little extravagant.”
“That’s a polite way of saying you find Lydia’s tastes to be vulgar.”
Mother laughed. “Quite. Money does not buy class, Brendan. Lydia started life as the daughter of a prosperous merchant and was thrilled at her new, elevated station. After the Blue John, she enjoyed throwing her newly found wealth in my face. As if I gave a fig.” His mother’s voice was light but her face had hardened to stone. “My family could buy Brushbriar and all its contents several times over. I had to remind her I was the daughter of a duke.” She pressed her nose closer to the window. “In retrospect that may have been what led to her dislike me, as I had to be very firm.”
Brendan caught the flash of ruthlessness in Mother’s eyes. There were many people, much to their detriment, who liked to write his mother off as a tragic widow flitting about the ton. It was a mistake few made twice. Mother was her father’s daughter, a Dunbar through and through. He expected Lady Pendleton would not misstep again.
“Oh, God, poor Haddon has been dragged into the third circle of Hell with us. That’s his coach.” Brendan nodded to a splendid set of bays. “I hope he hasn’t brought the Haddon Herd with him.”
“I’m sure the girls are lovely. Do not refer to them as cows.”
“I didn’t call them bovines. I only said the quantity of daughters Haddon has could be referred to as a herd.”
Mother rolled her eyes. “Regardless, I’m sure the poor man does the best he can. It can’t be easy trying to raise four young ladies alone with no feminine influence to speak of.”
“You’ve never even met him and Haddon is rarely alone, from what I understand.” Brendan gave his mother a pointed look. “And there is a steady stream of governesses through his doors.”
“Perhaps I shall offer Lord Haddon my advice in raising young girls.” Her fingers drummed against the windowpane in thought. “He may appreciate my experience.”
“Pray do not hold up Arabella as an example of your abilities. Besides, the girls are called the Haddon Hellions for a reason. At last count, the Hellions have disposed of eight governesses, three dancing instructors and four French teachers.”
“Psh. It sounds as if Haddon’s daughters are merely in need of direction and structure. Arabella has made an excellent match. A love match. I adore Rowan and admire his tenacity in handling your cousin.” Mother gave him a brilliant smile. “You might learn from their example.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, I see the Divets.” Mother ignored his question. She was bouncing in her seat in excitement. “I was so hoping they’d been invited. Mr. and Mrs. Divet have been abroad for nearly two years traveling all over America. The tales they must have! Dinner is bound to be fascinating.”
“I somehow doubt that.” Brendan pinched the bridge of his nose wishing he was still in the middle of a brawl at the Whistling Pig in Buxton.
15
Petra was late.
Mother was bound to have a fit if she didn’t hurry downstairs to the drawing room, especially if Lady Pendleton was forced to delay dinner on Petra’s behalf. After several sleepless nights, ones in which she merely tossed about her bed thinking on her current situation, Petra found herself drifting off while reading in the gardens and decided on a late afternoon nap. Morwick, who’d invaded her thoughts nearly every night since she’d left Somerton, was blissfully absent from her dreams today, and she’d fallen into a deep sleep.
Stomach grumbling, she surveyed herself in the mirror. She’d slept through tea and the arrival of most of the guests and was now starving.
Petra looked down at the barely discernable rise of her bosom. “I resemble a small boy dressing up in his sister’s clothing.” Petra had never given much thought to her figure one way or another. She was slender and small-boned, with the bosom to match. But since meeting Katherine, she found herself constantly comparing herself to Simon’s sister. Petra supposed it had more to do with Morwick than anything else. Next to Katherine, Petra was drab and childlike.
“Begging your pardon, my lady, but you do not.” Tessie stood just behind her. “You are lovely. And the color of the dress brings out the green in your eyes. Lord Pendleton won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.”
The pale green dress, the color of spring grass, was one of her favorites, though she couldn’t remember the last time the garment had been worn. She hadn’t even realized Tessie had packed the dress until Petra saw it hanging in the armoire after her arrival.
“Thank you, Tessie.” She hadn’t the heart to tell her maid she doubted Simon would notice anything about her, let alone the color of her dress, unless she drew undue attention to herself.
“You’ll be late, my lady. I’m surprised your mother hasn’t sent for you.” Tessie surveyed Petra once more and nodded. “You should go down.”
Petra thanked the maid again and hurried out the door only to be halted by a wall of warm muscle smelling of the moors, pine, and vaguely of soap. Her breasts, small things that they were, pushed impudently against the crisply pressed shirt. And it was nicely pressed, a change from his usual slightly rumpled appearance. Not a hint of ancient cambric nor a speck of dust decorated the broad chest.
Tall Dark and Wicked: The Wickeds Book 5 Page 14
