A Convenient Bride (31 page)

R
ichard paced. When he wasn’t pacing, he was walking to the doorway and looking up the stairs. A flurry of activity sounded from above. Birthing was women’s work. Men were banned to their brandy…and pacing.

After several visits with Brenna, and his many questions concerning the birth and Brenna’s condition, the housekeeper finally shooed him from the room.

“Go now before you fray my lady’s nerves,” Mrs. Beal scolded. “She cannot worry about you worrying.”

He wanted to fall into the brandy and allow it to soothe him, but thought it best if he got through the evening with a clear head. He wanted to be helpful to Brenna should a need arise.

Now that he pondered the decision, he was not convinced it was the wisest choice.

“If anything happens to Brenna and the baby—” he mumbled to himself. He cupped his hands behind his neck and looked down. He must think positive thoughts.

“Lady Brenna will be fine,” Miriam replied.

Richard looked around, not realizing she was standing at his elbow. She placed a hand on his arm.

“The child will come in due time,” she assured him. “Soon you will have your heir.”

He looked for something—jealousy, envy, anger—in her
face but found only compassion. Since discovering a killer may be in the park, he was suspicious of everyone. It pleased him to see nothing calculating in her expression. Unless she was an accomplished actress, Miriam was truly happy for him.

“Yes. I guess you are right.”

Hours passed with the loud clicks of the clock. Lucy came down at intervals to assure him that all was well.

“You might need to replace your rug,” she teased, pointing down at the scuffed fabric beneath his feet. Without waiting for a reply, she added, “Brenna would like to see you.”

When Richard stepped over the bedroom threshold, he noticed that the room had been cleared of all unnecessary maids, and the midwife was standing off to the side, conversing quietly with Mrs. Beal. Brenna lay on the bed, her hair damp and matted, her face flushed.

His heart skipped. She gave him a small smile as he sat beside her. “The babe has your stubborn nature. He’s making us wait until he is ready. He cares not what I wish.”

“Then you are well?”

Brenna nodded. “I’ve told you that we Irish are made of stern stock. We’ll give birth in a field and go right back to plowing soon after.” In spite of her obvious pain, her eyes danced. “And have supper ready that evening.”

He forced a light tone. “Perhaps, then, I should have a plow brought around if you think it will hurry things along.”

Despite her confidence, she looked frail, exhausted.

“Ask me again in a few hours,” she said. “I might take you up on—oh!” She let out a mewling cry. Richard had no time to react to her suffering when Mrs. Beal ushered him back out into the hallway.

“It shouldn’t be long now, My Lord,” she assured him, and slipped back inside the room.

Richard managed, somehow, to make it halfway down the stairs when the front door banged open and a woman, resplendent in a rose hat and gown, blew in with the wind.

“Where is my daughter?” Kathleen demanded, giving Joseph only enough time to catch her hat and cloak up against his chest, when she was off again.

The butler pointed up. She shot Richard a quick smile as she passed him on the staircase and was gone.

He turned to find Walter removing his silk top hat. “We were at a party when we got word. She did not even stop at home to change. I assume our luggage will arrive sometime tomorrow.”

Richard joined him.

Walter shucked off his overcoat, looked him over, and clamped a hand down on his shoulder. “Point me to the brandy, my friend. I think we can both use one.”

B
renna tried to be brave but lost the battle sometime near dawn, when the pushing began in earnest. She cried out with each pain and gripped her mother’s hand, certain she was about to be torn asunder.

“That’s it, darling,” Mother said. “The babe is coming.”

Lucy dabbed her damp forehead with a cloth and brushed back her hair. “You are so brave.”

“Push!” the midwife commanded. She pushed. “Push again!”

Brenna gritted her teeth and pushed. A scream tore from her, and the room whirled. She slumped back against the pillows, the world going gray.

“It’s a boy,” Lucy exclaimed. Then, “Oh, dear. I think she’s fainted.”

Mother leaned over her. “Brenna? Brenna?”

Slowly, the fog dissipated as Brenna roused with a lusty baby cry filling the room. Clarity slowly worked its way into her exhausted mind. Relief filled her with warmth to her toes. “I have a son?” she asked, awed.

“A beautiful son.” Mother smiled. She smoothed Brenna’s damp hair out of her face. “Your husband will be pleased.”

Brenna sighed and closed her eyes. “I told him we would be fine.” Then the room went black.

R
ichard rushed to the doorway as the robust cry of a babe sounded overhead. His knees went weak. The doorframe, and sheer determination, kept him upright.

“Go to her,” Walter urged, and Richard needed no further encouragement. He took the stairs two at a time.

The hallway was filled with maids, who stepped aside as he approached. Words of congratulations barely registered in his mind. Unsure of the protocol for husbands, he paused just inside the doorway to take stock of the scene. He could not see Brenna on the bed, but Kathleen caught sight of him and walked over, a wrapped bundle in her arms.

“You have a son, Richard.” She tipped the baby so he could get a glimpse of the tiny red face beneath a thin patch of black hair. She cooed and rocked him. “You sure did take your time, young man.”

“And Brenna?” Richard asked.

“She fainted, but she is fine.” Kathleen stepped out of the way, and Richard walked past her.

Brenna was pale but breathing softly as he approached. Mrs. Beal smiled. “She worked very hard, our Lady Brenna did,” she said. “She is resting.”

Richard nodded. He watched her breathe for several minutes, relief filling him to his bones. Months of worry had come to naught. Brenna and their son had survived.

From behind him, he heard Mrs. Beal chase the maids off and Kathleen thank the midwife for her efforts.

The room went quiet. So intent was he to watch her sleep, it took a moment to realize she was awake and peering at him through laden eyelids.

“Did you see him?” she asked softly.

“I did.”

“I understand he is quite handsome.”

“He resembles me,” he said, and was rewarded with a weak smile. It took his breath. “Well done, Wife.”

Their eyes met and held. She lifted her face, and Richard did not hesitate. He lowered his mouth and brushed his lips over hers. Her sweet taste infused him.

“Thank you for my son.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied.

Kathleen walked over, and between he and Lucy, they helped Brenna get into position to hold the baby. Once he was snuggled against her, she stared at him, overwhelmed with emotion.

“His head is oddly shaped,” Brenna noted, as it seemed a bit elongated. She looked up in alarm.

“Yours was the same,” Kathleen remarked. “That often happens. It will be round and perfect in a few days.”

Brenna relaxed back. She brushed her fingertip over his cheek and across his bottom lip. He opened his mouth.

“He’s hungry,” Lucy said. She leaned over for a better look. The baby scrunched up his face and let out a cry.

“I shall leave you now.” Richard ran his hand over his son’s soft head. “Later we will have to decide what to name him. I was thinking Horace.”

Brenna grinned. “You, Husband, will think again.”

J
ames Richard Ellerby became the focus of the household from the moment his father presented him to the staff. Brenna stayed abed for a week after his birth, and then a second week to make certain all was well. She was pampered by everyone as she recovered her strength.

“He will be spoiled if this does not come to an end,” Brenna said, her eyes on the stack of gifts from both family and neighbors alike. “He is barely two weeks old, and already he is being treated like a prince. Noble arrogance will soon follow.”

Richard placed James into his crib and turned to Brenna. For a moment, she thought of pulling up her gown, as it was askew from nursing their son, but decided to leave her bodice hanging low. In a few weeks, she would be able to resume her life normally, and the first thing on her list was to work diligently on getting her marriage in order. Though Richard had not mentioned her return to London in weeks, she knew he expected her to do so in good time.

He would have to rethink this. She was going nowhere.

The social whirl of London no longer intrigued her. She was a mother now. Though she knew they would spend time visiting her family in town, she had not expected to find contentment in the country…with the sheep.

“Is there something remiss about noble arrogance?” Richard asked. “It has suited me well.”

He was casually dressed in his breeches and open-necked shirt, his boots polished and gleaming. She liked him best like this, when his hair was askew from sleep and his face
softened from spending the hours before breakfast alone with her and James.

“Certainly not,” she reassured him. She pushed up from the bed and walked to the crib. James was sleeping. She turned to Richard and laid her palm flat on his chest. “If he grows up like you, I will be content. Now go. I have to change.”

As if on cue, Agnes arrived to assist.

Richard seemed reluctant to leave them but gave a slight bow and left. It heartened Brenna to know that Richard adored his son. She hoped the fatherly devotion would make it harder for him to see them go.

“Will you choose the blue or the pink today, Milady?” Agnes asked, as she dug through the wardrobe.

Brenna mumbled something, as her mind was elsewhere.

Always polite, Richard allowed her a light kiss now and again, but nothing more. He spent time with her, talking about the weather, farming, the goings-on in London, but nothing personal. Her frustration welled with each passing day, despite Lucy’s assurances that he was not as indifferent as he appeared.

“There you are.” Lucy glided in, her pleasant personality lighting the room like morning sunshine. She’d gone through bouts of gloom after losing her husband so tragically. However, she was back to her old self again, and Brenna was happy she’d chosen to stay on, for now, rather than return to London for another matching. “What is on the schedule for today? Lying about eating chocolates? Fittings with the dressmaker? Needlepoint?”

“None of those things.” Brenna looked to the window, where the cloudy sky had just a hint of sunshine breaking through, and another activity came to mind. She called for Agnes to get out a walking dress. “The physician has declared me fit, and I have decided to begin a regimen of walking; brisk walking, each morning that the weather allows. And when I am allowed to ride again, I will do that, too.” She moved over to the crib and leaned to kiss James’s downy head. “I ate far too many sweets over the last months, and my backside is as wide as a coach.”

“Nonsense, though you did keep the kitchen busy,” Lucy teased, and watched Agnes pull a yellow walking dress over
Brenna’s head. “Still, you are almost as trim as you were before the babe. It should not be long before you are in top form.”

Brenna waited to reply until she was laced into her dress and Agnes sent off to fetch the nanny. She whispered so Agnes could not hear her next comment. “Then I will be ready to seduce my husband.”

Lucy nodded, and they shared a conspiratorial glance. “That Bethany is certainly forward. With any other man, she’d have already been taken up on her blatant offer for a romp. Thankfully, His Lordship has his eyes elsewhere.”

Reaching for her bonnet, Brenna said, “Then let us get our breakfast and start the morning with a stroll around the park. The fresh air is calling.”

O
ver the next few weeks, Brenna walked with her mother and Lucy, and after her parents returned to London, she and Lucy kept up their walks, occasionally adding in a ride. Lucy was only a fair rider, and Brenna was ordered by Richard not to overdo, so they kept their rides sedate. Still, Brenna longed to race around the park and decided one early morning to sneak out before breakfast to do just that.

She fed James, and Agnes put her in a dark blue riding habit. She tiptoed down the stairs and slipped out of the house. The morning was damp from an overnight rain, and a slight haze clung to the lowlands. She inhaled the damp air, smiling to herself and eager for her ride.

The groom startled as she arrived at the stable, rubbing his hand over his unshaven face. “Milady?”

“Good morning, Carl.” She strolled past the sleepy man, down to the stall where Brontes was finishing her breakfast. “I would like to take Brontes out. Could you saddle her for me, please?”

“Aye, Milady.” He hurried to do her bidding. A quick brush and a few minutes to get Brontes saddled, and the mare was ready. “I will rouse Elliott to ride with you.”

“That will not be necessary. I know the way.”

Carl stood, clearly uncertain, before nodding. “Aye, Milady.”
He moved to help her mount, and they rode toward the rose and orange sunrise.

Brenna waited until they were out of sight of the stable, so as not to alarm the groom, before nudging Brontes into a run. The mare was as eager as she to stretch her muscles and raced down the path toward the woodland at the back of the property.

Laughing with the sheer joy of the ride, Brenna let Brontes have her head, and the mare did not disappoint. Soon they were both breathless from the effort.

Finally slowing the mare, Brenna leaned over and scratched her gloved hand over Brontes’s sleek neck. “You are such a beautiful girl. Yes, you are.”

She continued to fuss over the horse, their shared affection showing. Brontes had been a gift from her parents some years ago, and Brenna was fond of the steed.

Once they both had a chance to rest, Brenna leaned up and nudged the mare forward. She wanted to return before breakfast.

A flash of something bright near the woods caught her attention. By the time she was able to focus, it was gone. But she was fairly positive what she’d seen was a flash of fabric from a gown. A woman was in the woods.