Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

“As you said, Byrony, all women want something. Today you appear to be the selfless little lady of the manor. But tomorrow? I wonder.”

“Brent, please!”

“Why don’t you sell Ira Butler’s necklace? It would bring you enough to play lady bountiful.”

He wheeled the stallion about and was soon gone from her sight.

Byrony stood very still, staring after him. She’d been right, of course. She just hadn’t realized the extent of the boy’s guilt, the boy’s betrayal, and the woman’s part in that betrayal. She never would have realized it, she thought, if they hadn’t come back here to Wakehurst. He was so damned closemouthed. And stubborn. And he became absolutely impossible when she got too close. She straightened her shoulders and urged her mare back to the house.

What would her husband do now?

She saw what her husband was going to do over dinner that evening. He was at his most urbane. And closed off from her, Byrony thought as she chewed on a bite of baked ham.

“The fried okra is delicious,” she heard Brent say. “I’d forgotten how marvelously different Southern cooking is.”

“You’re right,” Byrony said, smiling brightly at everyone. “In Boston all we consumed was fish. By the time I was fifteen, I was certain that I would begin growing gills at any time.”

“Didn’t your Aunt Ida tell you the facts of life?” Brent said, turning his attention and that drawl of his on her. “At fifteen I’m certain you were growing far more interesting sorts of things than fish gills.”

For a moment she wanted to hurl her lima beans at him. Instead, she said, “Aunt Ida was never married. She didn’t speak—” She broke off at the sound of Laurel’s laughter.

“You are amusing, Byrony,” Laurel said, lightly wiping her lips with her linen napkin. “I suppose every girl has a female relation like that.”

“Unmarried and ignorant and prudish?” Brent said.

“You were unmarried until very recently, Brent,” Drew said, “but somehow I can’t imagine applying the same words to you.”

“I can’t imagine applying those words to most women,” Brent said. “Of cour

se, if a woman doesn’t have the face and the form to attract a man, I suppose she must make do with charities and good works. The ladies at this table are fortunate, don’t you agree, Drew?”

“And I suppose if a man doesn’t have the face or form to attract a woman, he must make do also?”

Brent said easily, “Oh no, my dear, if he has the money, he can simply purchase what he wants.”

“If women had any power at all, it wouldn’t be that way,” Laurel said.

“Thank God, women don’t have men’s power,” Brent said, shaking his head. “All of us poor mortal males would become lapdogs, begging for favors.”

Byrony cast a quick glance at Laurel. She was right, of course. If Laurel had had power—and money was power—would she have married Brent’s father? If I had had money, I never would have married Ira.

And Brent? She’d wanted him, she’d been drawn to him. But then again, she’d had no choice, not really. She heard him say in that damned bored drawl of his, “I wonder how many ladies would succumb to us poor men if they weren’t constrained to by circumstance?”

He’s thinking about us, Byrony thought. Or perhaps all the women he’s paid. His mistresses.

“Come now,” Drew said, “don’t be so bloody cynical. There is such a thing as love, you know. A rather far-flung emotional state.”

“Love, Drew? I think you mean unrequited lust. Once requited, well, what is there then?” He shrugged.

“Caring? Trust? Children?” The words came out of Byrony’s mouth before she could stop them.

Brent laughed. “Well, children certainly keep a man tied in one place. Clip his wings and all that.”

Byrony closed her eyes a moment. She lightly touched her hand to her stomach. Why wouldn’t the wretched man face himself?

“Then why do you suppose a man gets married?” Laurel asked lightly. “Your precious theory of unrequited lust again?”

Brent was silent a moment. He drank some of his wine, then carefully set the crystal glass down again. “That or he finds himself in a situation where he has no choice.”