Blood Blade Sisters Series (Entangled Scandalous)

by Michelle McLean

  Here went nothing…

  “Mrs. Krause, Mr. Taggart has kindly agreed to accept the position of butler for our household.”

  The older woman’s nostrils flared and her eyes widened. She pinched her lips together and Brynne recognized the signs of a brewing argument so she hurried on, unwilling to get into a knock-down brawl with her housekeeper right there in the salon.

  “If you could show him to his quarters and then perhaps give him the grand tour, that would be lovely. And then, please assemble the staff for me and I’ll make his formal introduction.”

  Mrs. Krause’s face turned an unhealthy shade of red and she was clenching her teeth so tightly together the muscle of her jaw audibly popped. But she didn’t say anything, merely gave Brynne a cursory nod and stomped out of the room.

  Mr. Taggart gathered his suitcase and turned to Brynne.

  “Good luck,” she said to him. It felt woefully inadequate, but there was little else she could do at the moment. Hopefully, once the woman got over her initial shock, things would smooth over.

  Mr. Taggart gave her a wry smile and said, “Thank you, ma’am,” before hurrying out after the housekeeper.

  Brynne slumped back into her chair and picked up the letter from her husband again. She stared at his handwriting until the words started to blur. Then she reluctantly folded it up and put it in her desk.

  She didn’t envy Mr. Taggart right now. But she had bigger things to worry about. She had to let her mother-in-law know who she’d just hired to be the face of her household.

  Heaven help her.

  Chapter Five

  “Oh, madam. It’s simply beautiful,” Beth exclaimed, clapping her hands to her cheeks.

  Brynne held the shimmering taffeta confection up to her chest so she could see it in the mirror. The deep red material brought out a becoming blush in her cheeks. It complimented her fairer skin and picked up the reddish highlights in her hair. The back of the gown erupted in a cascade of champagne colored flounces, which matched the simple, off-the-shoulder bodice. But Brynne’s favorite part was a corset piece in the same dark red as her skirt that was embellished with gold embroidery.

  The style was a bit unusual, but so beautiful that Brynne hadn’t been able to pass it up when she’d seen it. It had been hanging in her closet for nigh on a year and while there had been many an occasion when she could have worn it, she’d always opted to remain at home instead of gadding about town. She wouldn’t be wearing it to the Cabot’s ball either had her mother-in-law not tricked her into going. Brynne muttered a silent curse at the woman’s well-meaning meddling. Truth be told, she was rather looking forward to wearing her forgotten finery.

  Beth steered her toward her dressing table first so she could have her hair done in relative comfort before donning the voluminous gown. Brynne hadn’t attended many balls, despite her mother-in-law’s determined efforts to get her to go to a good many of them in the year that Brynne had been in Boston. She couldn’t muster the desire to hob-nob with Boston’s finest when the vast majority of them viewed her as something less than pleasant that must be endured for the sake of being polite.

  But Richard Oliver would be at this ball. Brynne wasn’t quite sure what to think of him yet. His opinion of her appeared to be improving, which went a long way toward improving her own opinion of him. And he had agreed to let her volunteer at the clinic, which was also a mark in his favor. Those deep blue eyes and adorable dimple didn’t hurt either.

  Brynne’s cheeks heated and she looked in the mirror at Beth’s reflection over her shoulder, hoping the maid hadn’t caught her tell-tale blush. But Beth was happily chattering on about the ball while she styled Brynne’s hair into an elegant coif.

  When she was done, Brynne turned her head from side to side, smiling as the ringlets gathered on either side of her head softly brushed her cheeks.

  “Thank you, Beth. It looks wonderful.”

  Beth flushed with pride. “Now it’s time for your gown,” she said, nearly squealing with glee.

  Brynne laughed. While she still felt like a cow being herded into the slaughter house, it was hard not to pick up a bit of the enthusiasm that fairly poured from her maid. Beth stuck her head into the hall and summoned Mary. They could probably manage on their own, but the help of the other maid would get the job accomplished faster, and with less potential damage to her hair.

  Beth helped her step into her crinoline, and then she and Mary maneuvered her into the voluminous skirts. Beth carefully arranged them over the hoops and all three women sighed as the layers of taffeta pooled about Brynne’s feet. Brynne brushed her fingertips across the material. She’d truly never worn anything so lovely in all her born days. Her heart quickened its pace a bit as a small thread of excitement flowed through her. She still didn’t look forward to spending her evening with the hoity-toities, but their company was worth it for the chance to wear such a gown.

  The outer girdle/corset made wearing her regular corset unnecessary, for which Brynne was truly grateful. Beth got her into the bodice, arranging the capped sleeves below the slope of her shoulders. And then the embroidered corset was fastened about her waist. Mary climbed beneath the folds of her skirts to help her slide into the black silk slippers.

  Beth went to the dressing table and retrieved the jewelry Brynne would wear. Brynne hadn’t owned any jewelry before arriving in Boston, other than her husband’s wedding ring, her own thin gold band, and a small locket that contained a portrait of herself as a baby that Coraline had taken to wearing around the house. So these pieces had to be purchased especially to match the dress. While Brynne had never been one for frivolity, she would admit to a certain thrill at the chance to wear such beautiful gems.

  Beth clasped the three-stranded pearl necklace about Brynne’s neck. The large center pendant hung above the swell of her breasts, the garnet in its filigreed gold setting winking in the light of the lamps. A matching pearl and garnet comb went into her hair, and twin miniature versions of her necklace encircled each wrist. Mary held out a Spanish-style shawl made of black lace and embroidered with a delicate gold floral design. Brynne felt like a princess.

  Then both of the maids stood back and enjoyed their handiwork.

  “Oh, madam. You look simply lovely,” Mary said.

  Beth nodded in enthusiastic agreement. “You’ll be the toast of the ball, no mistake about it. Dr. Oliver won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.”

  A small squeak of protesting surprise escaped Brynne’s lips. “I’m sure the good doctor will be far too busy to pay me any mind.”

  “No man will be too busy to notice you tonight,” Beth assured her. “Some of those others you want to steer clear from, of course. They think because a woman is a widow, they can get away with taking liberties.”

  Beth was beginning to sound more like a protective mother hen than a ladies maid. Brynne hid her amusement, touched that the girl cared.

  “That doctor,” she continued, “he’s a good one. An honorable man. Never been even a smattering of scandal tied to his name. And all that work he does in his clinic? He’s a saint, that man. He’d be a good match,” she said, with a wink.

  Brynne flushed at that. “Well, I’m not looking for a good match, or any match for that matter. I’m only going to make Mrs. Forrester happy. That is all.”

  Beth and Mary exchanged a knowing glance that Brynne chose to ignore. She also ignored the small, inner voice that agreed with the maids. She was looking forward to seeing the doctor again. But she refused to acknowledge that, to herself or to anyone else.

  Lucy entered, looking ravishing in a lavender hued work of art of ruffled tulle and lace. The women exclaimed over each other’s gowns, Lucy’s excitement nearly tangible in its exuberance.

  The Forresters were waiting for them in the parlor and Cora came forward with an exclamation of delight.

  “Oh, my dear girls, you look so lovely.”

  Edward, her quiet, unassuming father-in-law, nodded his shy
agreement and quickly kissed her cheek. “Quite lovely,” he said.

  “Will it do? I know it’s a bit unusual.” Brynne’s hand fluttered to the embroidered corset at her waist.

  “It’s absolutely breathtaking,” Cora said. “There’s a great deal to be said for standing out from the crowd.”

  Perhaps, but not when you were trying to fit in. Maybe the dress had been a mistake. But it was too late now. Cora had grasped her elbow and was already leading her out the door to their waiting carriage.

  …

  The moment Brynne stepped into the Cabot’s grand hall, she wished she could run back out. It was, in a word, overwhelming. Between the opulence of the setting and the glittering throngs of society’s elite that graced the halls, Brynne found it difficult to keep her panic at bay. What had she been thinking? She didn’t belong here among the bejeweled and beribboned upper crust dancing and prattling her way through the marble-columned halls embellished with shimmering chandeliers, sparkling glass, and imported Italian marble.

  But it was too late to escape. Cora led her around to various groups of chattering women, saying hello, nodding politely, and eventually stopping at a group that contained a few of Cora’s particular friends. And Mrs. Morey.

  Mrs. Jacobs, the one woman in the group who had always been decent to Brynne, struck up a conversation with her and Lucy. “You look so lovely tonight, Mrs. Forrester. And you as well, Miss Richardson.”

  “Thank you,” Brynne said, Lucy echoing her. “Your gown is beautiful.”

  Mrs. Jacobs murmured her thanks, her cheeks blushing becomingly.

  Cora gave Brynne a subtle wink and settled into a deep conversation with one of the women from her book club, content that Brynne had found a few friends to talk to.

  The other women all smiled politely until the moment Cora turned her back. Then, one by one, they found an excuse to drift off. They weren’t outwardly rude and did nothing blatant that shouted their disapproval. It was much more subtle. A smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes, a nod of acknowledgment that was so lacking in movement it almost didn’t count as a nod at all.

  Brynne was surprised they bothered to keep up pretenses at all.

  “Mrs. Jacobs.” Mrs. Morey called to Brynne’s companion. “My dear, do come and tell Mrs. Springwell about that tonic that helped George.”

  Mrs. Morey took Mrs. Jacobs’ arm and led her away from Brynne with barely a nod in Brynne’s direction. Mrs. Jacobs, bless her heart, attempted to draw Brynne along with them, but Mrs. Morey quickly waylaid her, whisking her away with a finesse that Brynne found almost admirable.

  A corner of her mouth rose. Touché, you old bat.

  Brynne turned to the other women left in their small circle, only to find them all deep in conversations with each other, a subtle turn of each back effectively shutting Brynne out.

  “Excuse me,” Brynne murmured, seizing the opportunity to put them all out of their misery. She made her away through the throngs of party-goers, sticking to the outer recesses of the room in search of Lucy, who had disappeared as soon as Cora’s attention had been occupied. Brynne spotted her a few minutes later, happily twirling in the arms of some dashing young man. Brynne fought the slight twinge of jealousy she felt, glad that her sister was having a good time.

  Brynne nodded politely whenever she bumped into someone, but with few exceptions, most didn’t bother to include her, and by this time, her sensibilities were feeling too fragile for her to force her presence. Her anger grew stronger with each subtle snub. She’d never done anything to these women. Except, of course, to commit the unpardonable sin of losing her husband to a horrendous crime and then refusing to retire from society at the ripe old age of twenty-three to mourn for the rest of her days. Oh no, she insisted upon being independent and doing something meaningful with her time. How dare she?

  Brynne had worked herself into a righteous lather, which was fair ready to explode, when she heard someone behind her.

  “So you were able to attend after all. I was beginning to wonder.”

  Brynne spun about to find the good doctor gazing down at her.

  “Would you do me the honor?”

  He held his hand out with a slight bow. Brynne hesitated, belatedly realizing another reason she’d avoided these outings. She hated to admit to any weakness or deficiency, especially to a man who hadn’t had the highest confidence in her abilities when they’d first met. But…well, she had grown up on a ranch outside a tiny Californian town. Learning how to dance hadn’t been high on her list of priorities.

  “Is something the matter?”

  “Oh, well, no, it’s…”

  A quiet burst of tittering erupted behind her and Brynne glanced over to see Mrs. Morey and her friends smirking behind their fans. Well, that settled it. Brynne raised her chin a notch, placed her hand firmly in Dr. Oliver’s, and allowed him to lead her out onto the floor.

  He pulled her into his arms, wrapped his hand firmly about her waist, and spun her into the mass of swirling bodies.

  Brynne stumbled and muttered an apology. Dr. Oliver smiled kindly at her. It took a few moments, but she finally figured out that if she allowed him to lead her, she could follow fairly easily.

  Once she stopped concentrating so hard on where to put her feet, she began to concentrate on the rather large, warm hands that held her. She stumbled again and Dr. Oliver chuckled.

  “Sorry. I didn’t have much opportunity for dancing back home.”

  “You are doing splendidly,” he assured her. “So, if you didn’t spend your days dancing to your heart’s content, what did you do?”

  “We didn’t have much time for frivolities, I’m afraid. The ranch took up all our time and what we had to spare was spent…helping any of our neighbors that needed it.”

  “A very worthy use of your time, indeed.”

  She’d almost told him exactly what sort of help she’d provided for her neighbors. Somehow, she didn’t believe he’d think her bandit activities would be very worthy.

  “Yes, well. We were a bit isolated there. We had to look out for each other.”

  “You must find life here very different.”

  She laughed. “A bit. Some days, I do find myself with nothing more to do than barkin’ at a knot.”

  Richard chuckled. Brynne bit her lip and tried again. “I mean, I have more time on my hands than I’d like.”

  The music came to a close, but he did not release her. “Is that why you volunteered to help at the clinic?”

  “Partly,” she said, stepping out of his arms. “I prefer to be useful.”

  “Well, I’m sure we can find some task that is agreeable to you.”

  Brynne nearly argued that she wasn’t offering to help only as long as the task was agreeable, but the notes of the next song began and the doctor again pulled her close.

  “Pardon the assumption, but I don’t believe your dance card is full yet.”

  Brynne almost snorted but refrained. “Nor is it likely to be.”

  He tightened his hold on her waist and Brynne’s concentration slipped again. It had been a very long time since a man had touched her, let alone held her in his arms. She’d missed it.

  “This lot can be a difficult one to breach, I’ll grant you that. But there are a few worth your attention.”

  Not many that she’d seen. Would that be an unforgivably rude thing to point out?

  The doctor chuckled and Brynne ducked her head to hide her flush. Apparently, her thoughts were plainly enough written on her face that she didn’t need to speak them aloud.

  “I’ll introduce you to a few of the more agreeable ladies.”

  A rush of genuine gratitude trickled throughout her. “Thank you. That is very kind of you.”

  The music came to an end and, true to his word, Dr. Oliver led her to a group of women that included her mother-in-law, Lucy, and Mrs. Jacobs, who were deep in conversation, and several other friendly looking faces. And Mrs. Morey. Who immediately pounced upon
the poor man.

  “My dear Mrs. Morey. Would you do me the honor?” Dr. Oliver bowed and extended his hand. Mrs. Morey simpered and blushed like a woman a third her age and took his hand. He led her onto the dance floor, catching Brynne’s eye with a quick wink over his shoulder.

  “Ah, my dear. Are you enjoying yourself?” Cora asked.

  “Yes, I am,” Brynne said, surprised to realize it was true. The good doctor had made what had been a disastrous night rather pleasant.

  Cora drew Brynne in to her side and introduced her to the women in the group. A few excused themselves as soon as they politely could. But a couple stayed and chatted with Brynne. Mrs. Jacobs brought over her sister-in-law and niece, who were both as friendly as she. It was refreshing to discover not every woman in the city harbored a cruel prejudice toward her, though Brynne still felt more like an exotic animal on display than a potential friend. Perhaps in time they would thaw.

  And to be fair, she hadn’t always been very open to meeting new people. After the first few disastrous attempts, Brynne had taken to declining any invitations that did come her way and thwarting any effort Cora made to draw her into her social circle. Brynne supposed the fault didn’t entirely lay with others.

  As the Forresters thanked their hostess for a delightful evening, Brynne found that she was glad that she had come. Despite the many whispers and snubs and subtle insults that had come her way during the night, she’d still found a few friendly faces with whom she’d passed a pleasant evening. And an intriguing doctor who had nearly convinced her that he might deserve a second chance before she rendered judgment.

  When he sought her out before leaving in order to say goodbye and press a chaste kiss to the back of her hand, she decided perhaps he wasn’t as hopeless as she’d originally deemed.

  “I will see you on Monday, Mrs. Forrester. Good night,” he said, bestowing a smile on her that would have charmed the knickers off a cat.

  “Good night, Dr. Oliver.”

  Brynne wasn’t sure what the next week would bring, but she was curious to find out.