Brinley doubted that. Her brother would become Lord Tellock one day, and he’d likely made many friends with castles.
“I’m sure one arrow won’t hurt,” a masculine voice said from her side.
She didn’t have to look to know who it was.
Oliver was staring at him with wide eyes. “Really?”
Brinley began to rise.
Lore placed a hand underneath her elbow. “Allow me to assist you.”
She hopped to her feet and stepped away. Her cheeks stained with embarrassment. Did he think her so heavy that she couldn’t manage to lift herself?
He was smiling at her and though she couldn’t detect his reluctance, she knew it to be there.
He’d wasted no time in seeking her out. If she had the power, she would give him the horse so he’d leave her be.
She was certain she looked terrible. She was sweating from the little exercise she’d done.
Lore turned to Oliver. “The south side of the keep has loopholes that point toward a clear field. Tell me, my lord, are you a good shot?”
“Oh, yes! Oh, yes!” Oliver jumped from one foot to the other with every chant. The gleeful dance always made Brinley smile, as it did others.
She looked from Oliver to Lore and found it hard to breathe.
The sheer beauty of Lore’s smile overpowered her ability to think.
She looked away and once she did, her mind righted. “I’d better return Oliver to his governess.”
“But I wanted to go to the keep,” Oliver cried.
“Another time, perhaps.” She took his hand and, without looking toward Lore again, marched away.
“Allow me to escort you.” Lore appeared at her side again.
“There’s no... need.” Brinley was huffing. “I… can manage.”
“Brinley!” The shout turned both their heads.
Lady Tellock rushed toward them. “I’ve been looking everywhere for Oliver. Come. You must not take up all of Lord Lore’s time.” She turned to Lore. “Forgive my daughter. Sometimes she doesn’t think. You’ve guests to greet. It is improper to take up so much of your time.”
Brinley closed her eyes but opened them when she realized what she was doing.
You’ve done nothing wrong.
You’ve done nothing wrong.
She told it to herself over and over again.
“I can assure you,” Lore began. “That it is I who has taken Lady Brinley’s time.”
“Oh, my lord.” Lady Tellock smiled and gave a light laugh that many men found enchanting. “There is no need for you to take the blame for Brinley. Trust me, it will do her no good. Come, Brinley. Ollie.”
Oliver rushed after his mother, and Brinley kept on her toes, willing to do anything to get away from this horrid situation. “Good day, my lord.”
* * *
Lore stopped in the middle of the courtyard and stared at Brinley’s retreating form. He wasn’t sure if it were his imagination, but it seemed that Lady Brinley didn’t like him. Aside from Mr. Landon, Lore didn’t know anyone who didn’t like him.
Had Lord Tellock shared his little plan with the woman? Lore didn’t think he would, and he had clearly not shared them with his wife. Otherwise, Lady Tellock wouldn’t have rushed out when she had.
It would be embarrassing to Brinley and her mother if they knew the truth. That much Lore knew for certain.
It would not be difficult to pretend he was attracted to her at least. If she didn’t go along with it, he’d have real trouble on his hands.
He was almost grateful to know the woman didn’t fawn over him like others did, but her distance would not help him get Jupiter.
He’d thought this would be an easy task. Now he wasn’t so certain. Like her father, she was clearly stubborn. Would Lore actually have to put effort into making the woman agreeable?
At the sight of the carriage that came in on the main road of the castle, his worries vanished.
Before it could come to a stop, Denhollow jumped out, followed by Sillian.
“Lore,” Denhollow called with a mocking frown. “You’ve had me trapped in a carriage with Sillian and his books and philosophical thoughts for over a week. I daresay, I’ve grown into an intellect.” When he drew close, he lowered his voice and said, “Please tell me I’ll have my very own selection of pretty maids to attend to my needs during this house party.”
Lore howled with laughter.
Sillian approached at a more leisurely pace. His hands were in his pockets as he looked over the grounds. “When was this built? Sometime before the War of the Roses, I would suspect? It has Scottish influence.”
Lore grinned. “You’d be correct.”
Denhollow put his hands together in the symbol of prayer. “Please. Save me from this man before my head erupts.”
Lore chuckled.
Sillian merely rolled his eyes.
His friends were like night and day. James Hayden IV, the Marquess of Denhollow, had dark hair and large black eyes and always seemed intense. He was expressive and could rarely be kept around for serious matters.
Gideon Merton, Viscount Sillian, had pale red hair, the shade of sanguine with hazel eyes. He enjoyed science, history, and had an endless need for knowledge, though that didn’t mean he didn’t make time to enjoy himself.
Sillian had recently gained his title, while Denhollow had reigned as the marquess since birth. His father had died before he’d been born.
Lore didn’t pretend to imagine that either man didn’t face their own challenges on a daily basis, but he’d have given anything at that moment to find relief from his own troubles.
Denhollow put a finger in Lore’s face, gaining his attention. His gaze narrowed. “What’s that look about?”
“What look?” There was absolutely no way Lore would tell Denhollow about his arrangement with Tellock.
“He’s upset,” Denhollow announced.
Sillian gave him a scrutinizing look. “I suspect you’re right.”
“We need brandy,” the marquess said as he wrapped his arm around Lore’s shoulder and directed him to the house.
“It’s early for brandy,” Sillian said.
Denhollow gave Lore another pleading look that sent him into a fit.
He decided he’d worry about how to charm Lady Brinley later. He was in too bright of a mood for such thoughts.
∫ ∫ ∫
0 5
Brinley had barely settled into the chair in her room when the door burst open and Arabella rushed in.
“Brinley! Can you believe we’ve been invited to Ayers Castle? How envious of us is the rest of the world?” In a dash of blue silk, she fell onto Brinley’s bed and then rolled until she faced her. “Brin, I’m deliriously happy. Truly, if I were anymore happy, I think I’d scream.”
Brinley smiled and moved to join her sister on the bed. “Are you certain it is only the castle and the thought of the jealousy of others that has you this elated?”
“No,” her sister confessed meekly. “Benedict makes me happy. So happy. Benedict is exactly who I wanted. Can you believe it? Marriage is wonderful, Brin. I wish you could marry and have your heart’s desire.” Sadness seeped into her eyes.
Brinley covered Arabella’s hand with her own as her heart jumped. Though Arabella could be a bit selfish and say things that made one think her dimwitted, people rarely saw this side of her. “Don’t you worry about me, Bella. I am happy. Truly.”
And she was. Whenever Brinley thought about her plans of settling down in a house of her own, she became as deliciously pleased as Arabella was now.
She knew she’d never marry and that a man would never look at her in the way Lord Dalewell did her sister but saw no point in living the rest of her days in bitterness. It took Everly to finally help Brinley wake up and see what she’d been missing all her life.
She could have friends. She could have happiness. Marriage need not be included.
Arabella popped up onto her knees. “I’m glad
you’re happy, Brinley, and more than happy that you’ve decided to return to Dalewell House with Benedict and I once the party ends.”
That had never been Brinley’s plan. That had been Lady Tellock’s decree. Since it was clear that Brinley would never marry, she was to become Arabella’s companion like some poor relation that no one could bother with.
It had hurt that her father hadn’t protested, but then Brinley was very much aware that her father still held out hope for Brinley marrying. She supposed that said something about the man. He didn’t think Brinley entirely hopeless.
But did anyone care to ask her what she wanted? No, indeed not.
Brinley smiled but said nothing in response to the plan for her to move in with Arabella. By the end of the party, she planned to announce her intentions to her family. She’d only need a few more coins to see it through.
The door opened again as Lady Tellock came in. “Arabella, there you are. Come, there are more guests arriving who wish to meet the new Lady Dalewell. Your husband looks everywhere for you.”
Brinley noted that their mother did not invite Brinley down to meet the guests and Brinley was glad of it. There was no one she wished to see.
“Oh, Brinley,” Lady Tellock said as an afterthought. “Lady Wycliff arrived and asked for you. I don’t like the woman. She’s a poor influence for you. Do not spend all your time with her.”
But that was Brinley’s very aim. She’d stay as close to Everly as possible. That way, Lore would see her occupied and leave her alone. She was sure that within a day the young lord would find something else to engage himself with, someone prettier than Brinley.
After Lady Tellock and Arabella’s departure, Brinley freshened herself and rushed from the room.
She and her family had been placed in the same wing as the duke’s family, since through Dalewell and Lady Hero they were all related by marriage.
She was greeted by the raised voices of those who had arrived for the party long before she saw them.
From her position on the staircase, she was able to take in the grandeur of the great hall. The large mullioned windows behind her allowed sunlight to flood the space. It was all done in pale white from its marble floors to the vivid cloisters of Greek women. But touches of gold flowed through, up to the ceilings where something akin to the world of Louis Laguerre played out before everyone’s eyes.
Gods flowed through a majestic sky, circling Zeus, who pointed toward earth, seeming ready to make a mortal decree.
She lowered her gaze and stopped at the stairs.
At every newel post were carved lions holding pieces of the shield that made up the Ayers’ coat of arms. The shields were black with a single star. It made sure one never forgot whose home they were in. The balustrade drew her attention as well.
Its geometric design made Brinley recall the dress designs she’d been working on recently. She’d never thought herself to be fashionable, but according to the ton, a woman didn’t look the part unless she wore one of Brinley’s works.
However, no one knew Brinley was the creator. She simply took the money for her work and that work was funding her dream.
Taking her gaze even farther down, Brinley noted at least a hundred people milling about.
She recognized many and had conversed with a few of the ladies and lords in the past.
She was surprised to see the Duke of Cartell present. Cartell was Benedict’s greatest friend, though the two were nothing alike from what Brinley had seen. Cartell was also known for making demands and getting his way. He was not afraid to challenge any man to a duel if he thought his honor had been slighted. Brinley hoped his presence would not lead to injury during the party.
Ayers and his family still stood by the door.
In the sea of faces and skirts, she finally saw the one she’d been looking for.
Brinley took her time going down the stairs and then wrapped her arms around Lady Everly Wycliff.
Everly pulled away but didn’t let Brinley go. Her smile was enchanting as she gazed into Brinley’s eyes. “It’s so good to see you, Brinley. Finally, we’ve been reunited. The rest of the Season was dreadful without you.”
If Arabella was pretty, Everly was ravishing. She had scarlet hair that glowed in any light and pale gold eyes. A slim nose with a cute lift at its point and full lips completed her alluring visage.
Everly was Brinley’s dearest friend and the best model for her work, given her captivating figure and personality.
Instantly, all of Brinley’s worries vanished.
And then they returned.
“Lady Everly, I see you’ve found Lady Brinley,” Lore said.
“I have.” Everly gave Lore her most charming smile. “You were truly wonderful for volunteering to help me find her.”
Brinley was still in Everly’s arms, making it hard for her to make a hasty retreat.
“Brinley,” Everly said. “You’ve met Lord Laurel, I’m sure.”
“Yes, I’ve had that pleasure,” Lore said smoothly.
“Yes, we met.” Brinley turned away, remembering how he’d completely forgotten who she was when she’d interrupted his conversation with her father.
“This house is magnificent,” Everly went on. “When is the tour?”
“It is to be tomorrow morning,” Lore said. “That should allow the guests to have enough time to rest. But if you’re inclined to have one today…”
“Oh, yes!” Everly tightened her hold on Brinley. “You must show us every room.”
“Actually,” Brinley began, “I’m quite tired—”
“Nonsense.” Everly beamed. “We’ve just been promised a tour before the rest of the party. That means we could ask all the questions our hearts desire without feeling as though we’re slowing the party down. We’ll not miss this chance.” Everly never missed a chance to partake in anything. It was the reason most people enjoyed her and a few lords despised her.
“I must see my room first,” Everly said.
“Of course.” Lore called over a maid.
“I’ll return in short order.” Everly let Brinley go. “Don’t start without me.” Then she turned to Lore. “And don’t let Lady Brinley disappear. She’s likely to vanish if you don’t keep an eye on her.”
Brinley made the mistake of looking at Lore and nearly gasped when she found his eyes upon her, as if waiting for the moment she’d turn his direction.
“Don’t worry,” he said to Everly without glancing in the woman’s direction. “I’ll make sure the lady doesn’t get away.”
Against her best wishes, the words did something to Brinley. She made ready to follow Everly, but the woman had already disappeared in the crush.
This was worse than she’d imagined.
Brinley straightened her spine and turned to Lore. “There’s no need to play chaperone. I’m sure there are others you wish to mingle with, like those two gentlemen you met outside?”
Lore lifted a brow. “You mean Lord Denhollow and Lord Sillian?” He shrugged. “They can manage themselves.”
“As can I, I assure you.” She put on a smile. “Please, don’t let me keep you.”
He narrowed his gaze slightly. “Why do you insist that you are somehow ‘keeping’ me from something else?”
Brinley blinked, surprised he was calling her out on her evasiveness. She grew flustered. “I insist that I am keeping you because I clearly am and do not wish to do so.”
“Do you not enjoy my company, my lady?” Lore asked. “Have I offended you in some way?”
Again, she was amazed.
“Of course not,” she rushed on, swearing to herself she’d not reveal what she knew about Lore and her father’s agreement.
He glanced away, and her eyes followed their direction.
Her father stood amongst a few men he knew but glanced in their direction before turning away.
Brinley took a soothing breath. She was used to anger and disappointment. She was used to mockery and shame. She’d learn
ed a long time ago how to hide her pain.
She smiled. “My lord…” She lost her thought when his eyes fell to her lips.
Then slowly they rose again. His eyes gave nothing of his thoughts away, yet now she desperately wished to check her reflection to see if there was anything in her teeth.
“You were saying, my lady?”
What had she been saying?
∫ ∫ ∫
0 6
Lore felt the like the worst sort of man there was as he looked down at Brinley. Once again, he tried to come up with a different solution to his problem and once again, his mind gave him nothing. Could her father not see just how uncomfortable the woman was by his nearness?
He’d noticed her lips trembling and her skin paled from its usual golden hue. Had her father noticed? Could he not see her distress?
Clearly, the lady was so unaccustomed to men that she trembled at the barest conversations.
The strangest feeling came over him. He felt the need to protect her as a lion would his cub. She didn’t deserve to be used so callously.
He was just about to make an excuse that would take him from her side when Denhollow and Sillian came over. Both had a lady on their arm, and Lore recognized them as Lady Jennie and Miss Frannie. They were part of Lore’s usual circle.
Denhollow smiled. “Lady Jennie happened to overhear your conversation with Lady Wycliff. You’re to give a tour? You’ll not leave us behind.”
Lady Jennie blushed a ruby color. In such a crowd, Lore should have been aware that his conversation would be overheard.
The room was crushed with new arrivals and the four pressed into Brinley, moving her aside as though she were of no consequence.
She made to shrink away, but Lore stopped her with a hand at her elbow and pulled her toward him. “Lady Brinley is to join us as well. I’m sure you all remember meeting her at the Reddington Ball a few years ago.”
Brinley looked up with wide eyes. She was clearly surprised he recalled where they’d met.
“Of course,” Lady Jennie said. “So good to see you again, Lady Brinley.” She curtsied, as did Lady Frannie.
The men bowed.
The Perfect Gentleman (Valiant Love) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 3
