Elizabeth Rolls - Lord Braybrook's Penniless Bride

Miss Daventry cleared her throat.

Bracing himself for the inevitable, Julian said, ‘I collect you have an objection, ma’am. Please state it.’

Miss Daventry’s eyes narrowed. ‘Not precisely an objection, my lord. An observation.’

Did she have to be so damned pedantic?

‘Yes?’ He didn’t like the snappish tone of his voice, but Miss Daventry seemed not to notice.

‘I don’t ride,’ she said.

‘Don’t ride? But everybody rides!’ Lissy’s disbelief was palpable.

‘Not everyone, Miss Trentham,’ said Miss Daventry gently. ‘I have always lived in a town and we couldn’t afford a horse.’

‘But Harry, I mean, Mr Daventry rides. He told me he had ridden since he was a child—’

‘Enough, Lissy.’ Julian was at a loss to explain the revulsion sweeping him. This was precisely why he had hired Miss Daventry—to demonstrate to Lissy the gulf between them. To force her to realise all she would be giving up. Now, hearing Miss Daventry explain the reality of genteel poverty with quiet dignity, he suddenly didn’t like it. The opposite side of the equation was laid brutally bare—Miss Daventry’s humiliation.

He had never intended to rub her nose in the gulf between herself and Lissy. If he were honest, it had not occurred to him. And yet, he could see Lissy thinking, looking at Miss Daventry’s dowdy appearance with new eyes, applying it to herself. And Miss Daventry seemed unperturbed.

Why wouldn’t she be? She’s had years to accustom herself to her station and you are paying her fifty pounds extra for the privilege of having her nose rubbed in it .

Part of him rebelled against this cold logic. Surely, even if only as part of her remuneration, she was entitled to some enjoyment in her life. It might ram the message home to Lissy all the faster, he told himself. Yes, that was it.

He looked across at Serena. She raised her brows, dearly.

‘We still have Merlin in the stables,’ he said, wondering what the devil was so entertaining.

She smiled. ‘Dear Merlin. I dare say he will be glad of a little outing. By all means, dear. I’m sure it will be very beneficial.’

Beneficial for whom? wondered Julian. Something about Serena’s smile had alarm bells clanging. He turned to Miss Daventry. ‘Ma’am, if you would care for it, you may ride Lady Braybrook’s old mount. He is very quiet, used to carrying a lady.’

Miss Daventry demurred. Of course.

‘Thank you, sir, but I will be more than happy to remain with Lady Braybrook. I—’

‘No, dear. Go with them,’ said Serena. ‘I would be much happier if you learned to ride. Lissy is for ever giving the grooms the slip when she rides out, but I fancy she will not be so rag-mannered with you! Especially if she knows you to be inexperienced.’ She shot a glance at her daughter. Who blushed.

In one final attempt to avoid her fate, Miss Daventry said, ‘But I have no riding habit!’

Serena—Julian silently blessed her—dismissed that with a wave of her hand. ‘Oh, pish! You may have my old one. It will be a little large, but the colour will suit you. It’s quite a dark blue, so you need not scruple to wear it despite your mourning. And there are any number of mourning gowns in my dressing room. Heaven knows I wouldn’t fit into most of them any more.’ She smiled ruefully at Miss Daventry, and added, ‘I have a tendency to put on weight sitting in this horrid chair. It would be better, of course, if I were not so fond of cakes and made more use of my exercise chair.’

Julian looked at Lissy. His sister was watching Miss Daventry, an odd expression on her face, as the companion accepted politely.

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