Lord Braybrook's Penniless Bride. Elizabeth Rolls

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      ‘I…thank you, my lord.’ Tingling heat still spread through her. Folly! She was tired. Imagining things. She was chilled and his hand was warm.

      He assisted her down from the carriage, steadying her as she stumbled a little.

      ‘This is Miss Daventry,’ he said. ‘Miss Daventry, these are my youngest sister, Emma, and my brothers, Matthew and Davy.’

      Christy summoned a smile, despite her tiredness. ‘Good evening, Emma, Matthew, Davy.’ The dog came and sniffed at her and she bent to fondle the silky ears.

      ‘And Juno,’ said his lordship. The dog returned to him, tail waving.

      ‘Good evening, Miss Daventry,’ said Emma politely.

      ‘Good evening, ma’am,’ said Matthew, bowing slightly.

      Davy scowled. ‘Did you make Julian late?’

      Now she thought about it, she probably had. ‘I am afraid so, Davy,’ she admitted. ‘His lordship kindly gave me an extra day to ready myself before leaving Bristol.’

      Davy looked unimpressed. ‘Mama was cross with me because of my nankeens,’ he informed her. ‘I had bread and butter for my supper, and no cake.’

      Lord Braybrook stifled an odd sound and leant down to give his small brother a not unkindly swat on the behind. ‘Don’t blame Miss Daventry for your misdoings, scamp. Now, off with you. It’s long past your bedtime.’

      Lord Braybrook kept his hand close to Christy’s elbow as they went up the steps into the mellow lighted hall, closely attended by Juno, who seemed to feel she must remain as close as possible to her restored master.

      A butler bowed. ‘Welcome home, my lord.’

      ‘Good evening, Hallam,’ said Lord Braybrook. The butler glanced at Christy but his well-trained visage betrayed not the least surprise or curiosity.

      She stared about her. The hall was enormous. She had the impression of great age, a high-vaulted ceiling and pinky-brown weathered stone. A branching stone staircase at the back led up to a gallery

      ‘Welcome to Amberley, Miss Daventry,’ said Lord Braybrook.

      Her response was lost in a startled exclamation from the back of the hall.

      ‘Good heavens! Who is this, Julian?’

      Two people were there. One a tall, slender young lady who must, Christy surmised, be Miss Trentham. Black curls, loosely arranged and confined with a pink bandeau, framed a vivid face with the family eyes. The other was an older woman, seated, her legs covered with a shawl, and a large tabby cat in her lap. An instant later, she realised that the chair had wheels—a Bath chair.

      The woman was staring at her in amazement. And, she thought, disapproval. Her new employer. Lady Braybrook herself.

      ‘Julian, what have you done?’ This in tones of deep suspicion.

      His lordship went to her, bent down and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I suppose you will think I have been far too precipitate and should have discussed it with you, but—’

      ‘No doubt!’ said Lady Braybrook.

      Lord Braybrook smiled. ‘This is Miss Daventry, Serena—your new companion.’

      If Lady Braybrook had looked puzzled before, she looked positively stunned now. Her jaw dropped and she said, ‘But I told you! I don’t want a companion! Even if I did, I would very much prefer to choose my own!’

      Christy blinked. She had known he was autocratic— arrogant, even. Her lips set. Yes, she had definitely known he was arrogant! But this! He had completely bypassed his stepmother’s views on the subject!

      Anger, and hot embarrassment, overcame the little voice warning her that she’d better bite her tongue.

      She lifted her chin and said in the sweetest tones she could muster, ‘Thank you, my lord, for a most interesting, if wasted, journey. Perhaps next time you might have the goodness to take account of the views of all the persons involved before embroiling anyone else in your schemes. I do trust that I may be offered a bedchamber for the night rather than trudging back immediately!’

      Chapter Four

      Lady Braybrook’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her elegant cap, but Christy didn’t care. To hell with what anyone thought of her. She was tired after two days’ travel, and now she had the journey back. She probably wouldn’t even have time to see Harry before being bundled off and she would have to dig into her slender savings to stay at an inn while she found lodgings.

      Then, ‘Oh, well done, dear! Julian, for heaven’s sake, stop standing there gaping and see that Miss…Daventry, did you say?’—a swift glance at Miss Trentham— ‘Yes, have Miss Daventry’s baggage taken up. She may have the guest chamber along from me. That will do very well.’

      She held out her hand, saying, ‘You must be famished, Miss Daventry, so do not worry about changing.’ Bemused, Christy came forwards to accept the proffered hand.

      ‘Lissy dear, show Miss Daventry where she may wash her face and hands. Then bring her to the small dining parlour.’

      Christy permitted herself to be led away by Miss Trentham and heard Lady Braybrook say in tones of steely determination, ‘In the meantime, Julian, shall we discuss this privately? Matt—take Davy upstairs and see that he goes to bed.’

      ***

      Miss Trentham smiled at Christy in a very friendly way as she led her out of the hall and asked, ‘Are you really Miss Daventry? What a coincidence! I…we know a Mr Daventry. He…he is a most particular friend.’ She blushed prettily.

      ‘No coincidence at all,’ said Christy. ‘Harry is my brother. Lord Braybrook sought me out intentionally. Since he was under the erroneous impression that your mother required a companion, he thought of me.’

      Miss Trentham’s blue, blue eyes opened wide. ‘But, surely you need not work?’

      There was no scorn in her voice, only shock.

      First trick to his lordship, thought Christy, following Miss Trentham down a passage. Probably the last one though, given Lady Braybrook’s reaction to his high-handed efforts. She elaborated, feeling she might as well partially earn the quarter’s wages that Lord Braybrook would undoubtedly insist she accept. ‘But of course, Miss Trentham. Harry must make his own way in the world and I cannot be a burden on him.’ Miss Trentham looked a little self-conscious, and Christy went on, ‘At this stage of his career he has quite enough to do to support himself. Our—’ She caught herself and went on, ‘His godfather is generous, but it does not extend to supporting a sister.’

      ‘Oh. I…I see.’ The dazed tone suggested that Miss Trentham was gaining a whole new view of matters beyond Harry’s good looks and charm. ‘Here we are,’ she said, opening a door. ‘This is the garden room. Mama insists the boys come inside through this room and there are always soap and water here.’

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