Brynnde, page 4
“What is this crowd about?” Tessa’s ringing voice asked.
Garrick’s arrow went wide, and he bit back an oath.
The group of men parted and Tessa marched through. Behind her came Julia, openly marveling, and Eleanor and Violet, each ducking their heads, though Violet was so tall that she hunched by habit.
Tessa stopped at the center and shot her sister a calculating look so swift Brynnde was sure no one else caught it. Almost immediately the sweet expression was on Tessa’s features as she looked up from under her lashes at Garrick. “Oh, I would love to see you shoot, Lord Burbridge,” she said. “I’m sure you must be so skilled.”
“I’m afraid you just missed it,” said Garrick, setting down the bow. “And so did I.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the group and it began to break apart, some men returning to their own targets, others venturing up the lawns in search of refreshment. The ladies, however, remained where they stood, as did Garrick, Graeme, and Nicolas.
“It’s only fair you try again,” Brynnde told Garrick. Her eyes slid toward Tessa. “I’m sure my sister would agree and is very sorry she intruded.”
Tessa’s mouth dropped open, her polite mask not merely slipping but flying off entirely. “Brynnde! How was I supposed to know—?” Then she became intensely aware of all shocked faces, the eyes trained on her. Collecting herself, the sweetness returned to Tessa’s face, her eyes flying up to Garrick’s raised brows. “That is to say, I couldn’t see a thing with all those people standing around! I had no way of knowing you were about to shoot, my lord. But of course I do apologize and would very much like to see you make another attempt.”
“Hm,” said Garrick, and his gaze moved to Brynnde, his mouth twisting as if they shared a secret, though Brynnde couldn’t imagine what it might be. “Well, if the ladies insist…”
“Oh, we do! Don’t we?” Tessa looked around for encouragement.
Julia shrugged. “We see him do it all the time.”
“When he’s home,” Eleanor added. “So not that often.”
Violet only pulled her shoulders up as if she wished she were a turtle with a shell to crawl into.
“Such ringing endorsements,” sighed Garrick. But he retrieved the bow all the same. “Let’s make it interesting, shall we?”
Nicolas’ brows came in. “A wager? In front of the ladies?”
Garrick smiled over his shoulder at the gaggle of misses then pegged Brynnde with his iron-colored gaze. “I was thinking more with one of the ladies.”
Brynnde knew she should not. In fact, a proper lady would all but faint at such a proposition. But as Nicolas opened his mouth to decline on her behalf, Brynnde said, “What kind of wager, my lord?”
Tessa gasped audibly. Violet whimpered. Julia and Eleanor were silent, but Nicolas flashed Brynnde a warning look.
“Nothing outrageous,” said Garrick, as if wagering with a woman wasn’t scandalous enough. “If I hit the bull’s eye, you promise me the first dance at the ball Saturday evening.”
Now Tessa made a choking noise. If Violet got any lower, her head would be inside her dress.
“I’m sure you could sign her dance card,” said Nicolas.
Garrick kept his eyes on Brynnde. “I worry it will be full before I can claim one. And I do prefer to be first.”
“Then she will gladly save you the first dance,” Nicolas persisted. “Won’t you, Bryn?”
Brynnde looked into her brother’s worried face and her determination withered. Much as she hated to back down, she could not put Nicolas in such a position. “Of course,” she agreed, “there is no need to gamble. I am honored to give Lord Burbridge the first dance. But I would still enjoy seeing him shoot.” It was the most diplomatic answer she could manage, allowing both men to save face and treading the line of propriety.
The twist of Garrick’s lips suggested he understood Brynnde’s predicament. He did not push the issue. “Very well,” he said, then glanced back at Tessa. “If everyone could just remain quiet for a moment.” Again he lifted the bow, nocked the arrow, and aimed. Brynnde found herself oddly mesmerized by the fluidity of his movements; he was swift and sure in them, practiced. Under his coat, the muscles of his arms rippled like her horse Parnassus’ legs—effortless power.
Brynnde was so caught up in her thoughts she hardly realized the arrow had flown until the thwump of its strike reached her. Unlike when she and Graeme had shot, no applause or congratulatory murmur came. Everyone remained silent and still.
The arrow stood in the dead center of the target.
4
Though Friday evening brought a spring shower, Saturday dawned bright and clear over Aux Arbres. Brynnde slipped from her bed and inhaled the quiet. The house had been a hubbub all week, so many comings and goings, though they’d seen little enough of the men outside of dinner. It was the constant gabbling chatter that made Brynnde think she might go insane, the need to be always mindful of what she said and to whom. She did enjoy reacquainting herself with sweet Violet, and she’d come to like the Sommerford sisters, but Tessa’s presence put a damper on things. Not that Brynnde minded being pushed to the edge of anyone’s attention, but to not be able to go out and get away from it—to have to sit in the parlour and participate—was suffocating her.
But this was the last of it. There would be the ball that night, and the next day their houseguests would leave. And if the Sommerfords left without one of them offering for her sister, Tessa would be impossible to live with. Maman, too, probably.
Brynnde’s feelings on the matter were mixed. She certainly would not mind having Julia and Eleanor for sisters. Graeme also seemed amiable enough, though Brynnde had difficulty picturing him with Tessa. And if not Graeme, it would be Garrick. That was even harder to imagine, though Brynnde could not say why except that it made her chest feel sore every time she thought about it.
Ah, well, if Tessa married Lord Burbridge, maybe he would take her abroad and Brynnde would never have to see them.
She couldn’t decide if that made her feel better or worse.
Brynnde went to the window and gazed longingly out at the damp green grass. One ride wouldn’t hurt, she decided. Parnassus needed the exercise and so did she. And it was early enough she wouldn’t be missed. She could be out and back by breakfast, and even then she would likely be first as everyone else seemed to have adopted Ton hours, staying up to play cards and then sleeping until late in the morning.
Brynnde rang for Molly and was already half in her hunter green riding habit by the time the maid appeared to help her with the rest. Molly stifled a yawn, and Brynnde said sincerely, “I am sorry, Molly, if I woke you.”
“They do have us up at all hours,” said Molly through another yawn. “I won’t be half sorry to have it be just the family again.” She placed the matching felt hat on Brynnde’s dark curls. “None of Master Nicolas’ clothes for you today, eh?”
“This is as much as I dare,” Brynnde said. “Having to sneak out of my own house just to go for a ride…” She disliked riding sidesaddle but would make the best of it.
The stable boy was as bleary-eyed as Molly had been, and Brynnde waved him off. “It’s all right, John, I’ll get him.” She marched down to Parnassus’ stall only to have the horse turn his head away when she tried to pat him.
“I know,” Brynnde told him. “And I’m sorry. If I’d had any say in the matter, I’d have spent much more time with you.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Brynnde whirled and discovered Garrick leaning in the stable doorway. His riding breeches were the same tan as his skin, making him appear almost— Brynnde squelched the thought as her cheeks heated. She hoped she could pass it off as irritation rather than embarrassment.
“Lord Burbridge,” she said, pleased with how steady her voice sounded. “Were you planning to ride?”
“Oh, no, it’s just I’ve run out of clean clothes. These were all that was left for me to wear.”
Brynnde’s mouth fell open, guppied before snapping shut again. “You’re funning me.”
He grinned and gave a nod. “I am.” Without visible effort, Garrick leveraged himself to standing. “He’s beautiful.”
“What? Oh,” Brynnde had forgotten Parnassus despite the horse’s nudging; he’d detected the peace offering of sugar she’d slipped into her pocket. “Yes, thank you.”
She watched warily as Garrick strolled over. He put out his hand and the horse turned to sniff it. “Parnassus, isn’t it? We have only the barest acquaintance. I haven’t been able to convince the stable lads to allow me.” His thunderstorm eyes glinted at Brynnde. “They say he’s yours.”
“He is,” Brynnde said roundly. She fished the sugar from her pocket and held it out for Parnassus, thus winning him back to her. “But all the horses at Aux Arbres are magnificent,” she told Garrick.
“I know. I’ve been out every morning.” He looked down the line of stalls. “I think it’s Narcissus’ turn.”
Brynnde watched him walk to the horse’s stall and lead out the beautiful blue roan. Garrick behaved as if he owned the place—
The thought gave Brynnde pause, and her throat closed. Maybe he expected to own the place? Well, not exactly, of course; Aux Arbres would go to Nicolas. But if Garrick were considering a match with Tessa, he would certainly make himself at home at Aux Arbres.
Finished with the sugar, Parnassus nudged impatiently at Brynnde’s arm, bringing her thoughts back to the moment. She led him out and tacked him, swearing under her breath at her skirt and wishing she’d stolen her brother’s clothes after all, never mind what the guests thought.
By the time she finished, Garrick had already taken Narcissus out and, Brynnde assumed, begun his ride. So she stopped short when she found him standing and waiting outside the stable, reins in hand. “I thought you might need help mounting,” he explained.
Brynnde only just prevented herself from rolling her eyes and saying, “Hardly.” Instead she managed a polite, “No, thank you. I’m used to doing it on my own.”
Still, Garrick waited while she climbed the block and settled herself on Parnassus’ back. Only then did he also mount. “Where to?” he asked.
Brynnde blinked at him. She wanted desperately to remind him he had not asked to accompany her on her ride, nor had she offered, but of course that would be rude. And if Garrick really did plan to become part of the family… Brynnde’s heart hammered, but she counted it as due to irritation at having the ride she’d so looked forward to overtaken by this… this… lord.
Garrick apparently understood Brynnde’s unspoken feelings. He said, “I only hoped you could show me more of what you love about Aux Arbres. I’ve enjoyed my rides here, but I’m sure you could tell me so much more about the land. If you prefer to ride alone, however, I will not impose.”
Parnassus stamped an impatient hoof, and Brynnde absent-mindedly patted his neck. “I would be happy to show you the estate, Lord Burbridge. I hope you do not mind if we stop to speak with some of the tenants?”
“I’d be delighted,” said Garrick, and to his credit he looked it.
By the end of the morning, Brynnde could not guess why she hadn’t wanted Garrick with her to begin with. He seemed honestly interested, enthusiastic even, to learn about Aux Arbres and meet its residents. Again Brynnde wondered whether the interest stemmed from plans to unite the families. Brynnde imagined Tessa in the throes of wedding planning; she would be more insufferable than usual. Suddenly the morning felt less warm.
As they returned to the stables, Garrick said, “As to your, uh, suggestion regarding London…”
It took Brynnde a moment to understand. “You mean your sister and Mr. Dryer?”
“I am fairly certain I can get him to town.”
Brynnde all but bounced on Parnassus’ back. “She will be delighted!” Brynnde had grown fond of the Sommerford sisters, and Eleanor often spoke of Thomas Dryer; Cupid’s arrow had sunk deep.
Garrick looked askance at Brynnde. “You will be in town, too, Miss Archambault?”
“Yes,” Brynnde sighed. “I cannot avoid it. All of us except Papa are to go. He will come later if…” Her voice trailed.
“If you make a match,” Garrick concluded. Seeing the look on Brynnde’s face, he added, “Why are you looking at me as if I’m speaking Farsi?”
“I don’t know what that is,” Brynnde admitted, “but then I also don’t know why you would say such a thing. This is Tessa’s Season, not mine.” A blush crept up her cheeks. “I apologize. I did not mean to be so frank with you.”
“On the contrary, I like that you’re frank with me,” said Garrick. “In any case, if you are to be in London during the season, you will almost certainly find a suitor, possibly several.” His lips were puckered as if he tasted lemon.
Brynnde shrugged. “Well, I am not seeking one.”
“You may not look for a stone, but a field still has many.”
“Then I will try not to trip over any and hope to save my ankles,” said Brynnde.
Garrick gave a satisfied nod. “Good. As you still owe me a dance this evening.”
A couple of stable lads ran into the yard to take the horses. Brynnde gave Parnassus over somewhat reluctantly, patting him and promising it wouldn’t be so long before their next ride.
She and Garrick walked back to the house together. Showing him around had taken longer than Brynnde had anticipated, and by the time Brynnde had cleaned up and changed clothes breakfast was well under way, though Lords Darley, Crabbage, and Averland were absent, as were their wives.
Garrick, also freshly dressed, went to the sideboard and piled his plate with toast, eggs, beans, and sausage. Brynnde did likewise, earning a lifted brow as she caught Garrick’s eye.
“It’s a fine estate,” Garrick declared, taking a seat.
Nicolas pinked with pleasure. “I’m glad you think so.” The men entered into a discussion of crop rotation and Brynnde focused on her meal, too hungry to start up a conversation with her peers.
Slowly, she became aware of hot eyes burning into her. She turned to see Tessa’s pursed rosebud mouth, her blue eyes flashing in a way that signaled temper tantrum. Meanwhile, two sets of green eyes were also fixed on her, more kindly but speculatively as well. Only Violet seemed not to be staring, her brown eyes downcast, though that was hardly unusual for Violet; she never made eye contact if she could help it.
Brynnde swallowed a mouthful of toast and started to say something innocuous, but Tessa abruptly pushed back from the table and stood. With startled glances, the men rose as well, but Tessa did not appear to notice, instead flouncing out of the room without a word.
“I apologize for my sister,” Nicolas said as he and his companions resumed their seats. “She must have just remembered something.”
Brynnde grimaced. She knew Nicolas was trying to cast Tessa in the best possible light, but her sister sometimes made it nearly impossible. In many cases the best light for Tess would be utter darkness.
“Are you looking forward to the ball tonight, Miss Archambault?” Julia’s question, and use of her family name, brought Brynnde back to herself. Though they had taken to using one another’s first names when alone, with the gentlemen present they felt constrained by propriety.
“Oh. Yes,” answered Brynnde. She tried to smile. In truth, she had forgotten the ball entirely, despite Garrick’s earlier reminder that she had promised him a dance.
“I’m not,” admitted Eleanor.
“It’s nothing against your family or anything,” Julia hastened to add, though Brynnde would hardly have taken it that way in any case. “It’s just that—”
“Mr. Dryer won’t be here?” Brynnde guessed, and Eleanor’s cheeks reddened.
“You’ll still have to dance, you know,” Julia told her sister. “Just to be polite.”
“I know,” Eleanor sighed, then added sharply, “but don’t try to tell me I may meet someone I like more! I won’t.”
Julia shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“I’m not much for dancing either,” Violet said quietly. “I’ve often hoped to devise a way of twisting my foot so as to have an excuse not to.”
“How extraordinary!” said Julia. “I love to dance. What about you, Miss Archambault?”
“I do enjoy it,” Brynnde said, “so long as I have a decent partner. There is nothing more tiring than a man who steps all over you.”
A corner of Julia’s mouth lifted, revealing a dimple. “Both my brothers are fine dancers,” she declared. “Though Garrick is the better of them.”
Garrick turned at the sound of his name. “Gossiping, Julia?”
She turned her dimple in his direction. “Wouldn’t you love to know?” And with that she pushed away from the table, as did the other ladies, leaving the men to scramble to their feet as well. Though by the time they had sorted themselves, the ladies were gone.
5
After a morning of idle chatter and an afternoon of enforced rest, the time for the ball finally arrived. Any number of friends and neighbors were expected to attend, and Lady Averland had impressed upon Tessa that this was her last chance to attach one of the Sommerfords before having to fight for them—and others—in London.
Tessa was in a dither over the new gown that had been made for her. It was white, as all young ladies were expected to wear, and cut to accentuate Tessa’s particularly lovely arms. Lord and Lady Averland had made a gift of a pearl necklace and earbobs to Tessa, who also had her maid string pearls through her upswept curls.
Brynnde had also had a new gown made for her, although less attention had been paid to her appearance. Her gown was simply and plainly made of pale blue satin with white lace for trim. Brynnde did not find it to be a particularly becoming dress, refusing to see the way the color emphasized the luster of her hair and eyes.
Molly had made rosettes of scraps of the satin and fixed them in Brynnde’s dark masses. Then she brought out Brynnde’s jewel box so that her mistress could select appropriate accessories. “It’s a shame you haven’t any blue gems,” Molly said. “They would go so well with your new gown.”
