“Of course.” Herrick studied him for a long, searching moment, his expression oddly somber.
“Yes?”
“This woman…”
“Brianna,” Edmond snapped.
“Brianna,” Herrick readily soothed. “Is she more than a passing fancy to you?”
Edmond abruptly paced toward the stove, the rigid set of his shoulders revealing he was not pleased by the older man’s question.
“You know that I never discuss my private affairs.”
“And I would have no interest, so long as I presumed that the affair was…passing.” There was another awkward pause. “If, however, you intend to keep Miss Quinn as more than your mistress, then you must consider not only her reputation, but also your own.”
“Tell me plainly what is on your mind, Herrick.”
“As much as you might wish to forget your duties to your Czar, they cannot all be ignored. The most important being the introduction of your future bride to society.”
Bride.
A cold chill spread through his body. He had devoted years to convincing himself that he had been cursed. That destiny demanded he be alone, in punishment for having been the cause of his parents’ death.
An irrational fear, perhaps, but one he could not overcome. Certainly not after he had watched Brianna nearly die twice in his arms.
“I will not discuss this!”
Herrick frowned, clearly puzzled by Edmond’s sharp tone. “I understand that you are still worried for Miss Quinn’s safety, but the traitors have been arrested, and the only danger now for the young lady is being revealed as your mistress before we can halt the ugly rumors. You know that Alexander Pavlovich will forgive any indiscretion, so long as it can be hidden beneath a vision of purity.” He reached out to clap Edmond on the shoulder. “We must have Miss Quinn moved to a less…unconventional household and provide a guardian who is above question.”
“She will remain here with me, Herrick.”
“But…”
“Enough, Herrick.” Edmond angrily turned to pour himself another brandy. “Brianna will never be my wife.”
“And who the bloody hell ever said I wanted to be your wife?” a sharp female voice demanded from the doorway.
The glass slipped from Edmond’s fingers as he swiftly turned to see Brianna leaning weakly against the door jamb.
With her slender body nearly lost amongst the folds of Vanya’s robe and her hair tumbled about her wan face, she looked unbearably young and fragile. There was no mistaking, however, the wounded fury that flashed in her magnificent eyes or the stiffening of her spine as he took an instinctive step forward.
“Ma souris…”
He had no notion of what he intended to say as he hurried toward her swaying form, and in the end it did not matter. Offering him a glare that cut like a dagger, Brianna gathered her small reserve of strength and slammed the door in his face.
IF BRIANNA HAD NOT FELT SO weak and oddly defeated, she might very well have tossed a grand fit. There was, after all, any number of priceless figurines set about the room that would be perfect to shatter against the door. And if she managed to run out of ammunition, there was always the collection of marble busts that lined the bookshelves.
Instead, she turned the key in the lock and crawled beneath the covers of her bed.
Damn Lord Edmond Summerville to the netherworld.
How dare he shame her by pronouncing to the silver-haired stranger that he would never have her as his bride?
It was not as if she had been pestering him with pleas to become his wife. Or whining to have her shattered reputation restored. Or to even be assured that their relationship was more than a passing fancy.
For God’s sake, she had not even told the annoying ass that she might be carrying his child.
And thank goodness for that, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind. The very last thing she would ever want was his guilt-ridden attentions, or worse, offers of money, when he so obviously was prepared to be rid of her.