Page 39 of Tall, Dark & Wicked
The slim lines of Petra’s delicious stocking-clad legs clasped around his waist, instead of dangling from a tree above him, were all he’d thought of for days. As he’d readied himself for the trip to Brushbriar, Brendan had realized the days in Buxton hadn’t really alleviated his desire for Petra. Being in close proximity to the object of his lust, while under Simon’s roof, was stupid and foolish, especially since he was certain he wouldn’t be able to keep his distance. The mere smell of roses and sugar cookies, and Brendan would lose his resolve. When she was close, terror and desire mixed together in an unwelcome way.
“I’ve no interest in Katherine,” he said, his voice gruff, “so you may put your fears to rest.”
“Good, since I assume she’ll try to seduce you at some point during the house party.” Mother plucked at her skirts.
“There are times, Mother, when I dislike your bluntness.”
“How else should I be? I have been married three times and am a Dunbar to boot. Goodness, Brendan, I may be your mother, but I am still a woman. I know what lengths a lady will go to in order to seduce a man.”
He shifted in his seat. “This conversation is adding to my discomfort, Mother. May we speak of something else? This tedious house party, for instance. And the fact I am here under duress. You don’t even care for Lady Pendleton. You’ve made no attempt to call on her since you’ve come to stay at Somerton.”
“It would be far truer to say Lydia doesn’t care for me. Nor did she like your father. I’m sure we were invited for the sake of appearances, especially after your assistance to Lady Marsh. Imagine if all of the county arrives at Brushbriar and we aren’t present. Everyone would gossip. Lydia would never wish to invite such attention. Certainly Simon would not. I suppose Lydia never did forgive Spence for punching Simon in the nose all those years ago, though Simon certainly deserved it. Little tyrant.”
“Don’t blame Spence; he was only defending me. I was an easy target for Simon.” He had been until Brendan had turned fifteen and his stature had nearly doubled overnight. Before then, Brendan had been a small, squat lad with big feet. Easy pickings for the much larger Simon, whom all the boys in Castleton worshipped. “Spence preferred to have the unshared duty of bullying me, and Simon disagreed.” Though Brendan and his brother argued about nearly everything, the two were still close. He trusted Spence with his life.
“I miss that little boy.” A wistful look crossed his mother’s face.
What she enjoyed about the smelly child he had been, Brendan didn’t know. Most of the time, he’d been covered with dirt and had bugs in his pockets. He shifted against the squabs again. Mother was often sentimental.
Brow raised, she took in his immense form crowding the small space of the coach. “You’re built like your cousin, Nick, and my father. Large, giant men who are fond of ruining perfectly good furniture that does not accommodate their enormous frames. Your brother was fortunate not to inherit the Dunbar build.”
True. Spence was an inch or two shorter than Brendan with the natural agility of an athlete. Spence was also quite deadly. His mother surely knew about that aspect of her eldest son’s life, though they never discussed it. She continued to tell people Spence was an attaché for the British government in India.
A lie no one in London believed.
“I will be glad to have Spencer home with us at the end of the year. He promises to return to England in time for Christmas. I will expect you in London as well, my love. I wish to have all my ducklings in one place. We have not celebrated as a family in ages.”
She had called them that as children. Ducklings. It wasn’t enough she raised her two boys alone, but also Brendan’s orphaned cousins, Nick and Arabella. She’d had to be mother for all of them while caring for her own ailing mother, Brendan’s grandmother. Not to mention defying the elderly Duke of Dunbar when the situation warranted it. She deserved to have them all together if that was what she wished. Brendan would ensure Spence was home. “It’s only midsummer, Mother. Plenty of time for you to plan something spectacular. I would not disappoint you for the world.”
She smiled indulgently and patted his knee. “I know you will not.”
Brendan could see her excitement at the thought of hosting such a gathering, even though it was many months away. Was his mother bored? For years, Mother had acted as chaperone to Arabella, since the death of Lord Cupps-Foster, a man no one missed. He wasn’t even sure why Mother had married Cupps-Foster, a hothead with the temperament of a bull. Brendan had detested him. Was she lonely? Now that Arabella was happily settled, Mother must be at loose ends. Perhaps she would take an interest in one of the dozens of charities Arabella seemed always to be involved in. He couldn’t imagine she’d marry again. Mother was quite unlucky in marriage and love.
The point of avoiding Petra. Exactly.
“Ah! Here we are. Brushbriar. It’s as lovely as I remember.” Mother peered out the window as the coach passed through the gates. “You know Ibeggedyour father to update Somerton, but he refused. His pride, you see, as we most certainly would have needed to use my personal funds, something Reggie didn’t wish to do. Somerton wasn’t near as prosperous as Brushbriar, especially after Pendleton found Blue John. I’m sure Lydia spent a small fortune to update the estate. She was always more than a little extravagant.”
“That’s a polite way of saying you find Lydia’s tastes to be vulgar.”
Mother laughed. “Quite. Money does not buy class, Brendan. Lydia started life as the daughter of a prosperous merchant and was thrilled at her new, elevated station. After the Blue John, she enjoyed throwing her newly found wealth in my face. As if I gave a fig.” His mother’s voice was light but her face had hardened to stone. “My family could buy Brushbriar and all its contents several times over. I had to remind herIwas the daughter of a duke.” She pressed her nose closer to the window. “In retrospect that may have been what led to her dislike me, as I had to beveryfirm.”
Brendan caught the flash of ruthlessness in Mother’s eyes. There were many people, much to their detriment, who liked to write his mother off as a tragic widow flitting about theton. It was a mistake few made twice. Mother was her father’s daughter, a Dunbar through and through. He expected Lady Pendleton would not misstep again.
“Oh, God, poor Haddon has been dragged into the third circle of Hell with us. That’s his coach.” Brendan nodded to a splendid set of bays. “I hope he hasn’t brought the Haddon Herd with him.”
“I’m sure the girls are lovely. Do not refer to them as cows.”
“I didn’t call them bovines. I only said thequantityof daughters Haddon has could be referred to as a herd.”
Mother rolled her eyes. “Regardless, I’m sure the poor man does the best he can. It can’t be easy trying to raise four young ladies alone with no feminine influence to speak of.”
“You’ve never even met him and Haddon is rarely alone, from what I understand.” Brendan gave his mother a pointed look. “And there is a steady stream of governesses through his doors.”
“Perhaps I shall offer Lord Haddon my advice in raising young girls.” Her fingers drummed against the windowpane in thought. “He may appreciate my experience.”
“Pray do not hold up Arabella as an example of your abilities. Besides, the girls are called the Haddon Hellions for a reason. At last count, the Hellions have disposed ofeightgovernesses, three dancing instructors and four French teachers.”
“Psh. It sounds as if Haddon’s daughters are merely in need of direction and structure. Arabella has made an excellent match. Alove match. I adore Rowan and admire his tenacity in handling your cousin.” Mother gave him a brilliant smile. “You might learn from their example.”
