“Yes, but you needn’t avoid society entirely, only males who show you undue attention. And curse or no curse, I doubt a man of Wycliff’s stamp will be in danger of swooning over you. He’s one of the most sought-after lords in England. Doubtless he will be attracted only to a great beauty with a fortune and title to match his own.”
Yet the bold earl had been attracted to her, Brynn thought gloomily.
Other than to warn her brother that she’d seen a stranger nosing around the cliffs, she hadn’t told Gray about her encounter with the lustful Lord Wycliff four days ago, nor did she intend to. Gray would be distressed to learn she had so narrowly escaped trouble, perhaps enough to forbid her to swim in the cove, which was one of her few liberties. He was as protective of her virtue as a mother hen.
As they were admitted into the immense foyer of the ducal mansion, Grayson swept a critical eye over her. “I don’t think you need worry about attracting male attention, Brynn. You have disguised your feminine charms rather well.”
Her ivory gown, which was four Seasons out of date, was of plain muslin and boasted a modestly high neckline, while her blazing hair was scraped back in a severe knot and mostly hidden beneath a feathered chapeau.
“If he does pay you any notice, however, it will not hurt you to make yourself amenable. Wycliff wields a great deal of power in elite circles, and an acquaintance can only be beneficial.”
“Beneficial to whom?” Brynn replied dryly.
“To me, of course. To our family.”
She heard the note of bitterness in her brother’s voice and glanced up at him. Her elder by four years, Grayson was a handsome man with features similar to her own, although his hair was much darker than hers, a rich chestnut brown. Despite his looks and title, however, his eligibility was greatly disadvantaged by the impoverished state of his finances-a circumstance for which he bore little blame.
Their family had never been affluent, but after their father’s death three years ago, they were stunned to learn the extent of their debts. Samuel Caldwell not only had made several unwise investments, he had borrowed at usurious rates from a moneylender to purchase naval commissions for two of his older sons. Simply repaying the interest on the loan depleted the small income from the entailed Caldwell estate.
As the heir, Grayson was at risk of being thrown into debtors’ prison, yet to his immense credit, he had shouldered the duty of supporting his five younger siblings without complaint and striven to keep their home from going to total ruin. It was a heavy burden, and Brynn had felt obliged to help relieve it, even to the extent of aiding Gray’s illicit smuggling activities. Although Free Trading was no proper role for a lady, she had sometimes performed sentry duty and occasionally even lugged her share of contraband. But her primary contribution was in selling their smuggled goods. She’d become quite adept at negotiating with the merchants in St. Mawes and Falmouth for the best prices.
Grayson regretted her involvement, but he needed her help, especially after their younger brother Reese had joined the merchant marine last spring. And she owed Gray her allegiance. As her oldest brother, he’d always looked after her and fiercely protected her from her lustful suitors. She loved him dearly, despite her current vexation with him and their recent arguments regarding young Theo’s welfare.
It galled Grayson to have to toady to anyone, Brynn knew. His pride was even greater than her own, and she understood his bitterness at being drowned in such crushing debt.
“Very well,” she said, forcing a smile. “I will be the height of congeniality, fawning over Lord Wycliff as if he were a prince royal.”
Her reply dredged a reluctant grin from Gray. “You needn’t fawn, puss. Just keep that tart tongue of yours between your teeth and don’t purposefully offend him.”
Brynn very much hoped the opportunity to offend the earl would never arise. With luck, she could manage to avoid Lord Wycliff this evening. And if she were extremely fortunate, he wouldn’t recognize her as the nearly naked mermaid he’d kissed so thoroughly a few days before.
She surrendered her wrap to a footman and allowed Gray to escort her to the ballroom, where much of the local gentry had already gathered. Brynn would have preferred to skip the receiving line entirely and repair to the ladies’ retiring room to hide, but her brother insisted that she honor the niceties.
The elderly duke stood with several members of his family and another gentleman whose elegant bearing proclaimed him to be a lord. He was significantly taller than the others and possessed a lean, muscular grace that was missing in his more portly companions. His shoulders filled out his impeccably cut blue jacket to perfection, Brynn saw, risking a glance down the line, before her attention was claimed by her host.
The duke, with his rheumy eyes blinking, greeted her fondly and then introduced her to his houseguest as “the loveliest young lady in all of Cornwall.”
At this whisker, Brynn kept her eyes downcast, adopting a mousy manner when she offered her hand to his lordship and murmured a polite greeting. Yet any hope Wycliff wouldn’t recognize her died instantaneously; he froze in the act of bowing over her hand.
The touch of his fingers burned, even through her gloves, but when Brynn tried to withdraw her hand, his grasp tightened almost imperceptibly, holding her captive and compelling her to lift her gaze.
His sapphire eyes locked with hers. “Miss Caldwell? I am charmed.”
“Th-thank you, my lord.”
A ghost of a smile curved his beautiful mouth. “Have we met before?” His gaze boldly flickered downward over her breasts. “You seem vaguely familiar.”
“I believe you must be mistaken,” Brynn replied stiffly, feeling herself flushing.
“I’m not so certain. I rarely forget a lovely face.”
She tried to stare him down, giving him her coolest look, but he affected not to notice.
“You must promise me a dance, Miss Caldwell, so that we might further our acquaintance.”
Brynn glanced helplessly at her brother, who was giving her a look that was half warning, half plea. “As you wish,” she capitulated. But she snatched her hand away and moved on more quickly than was polite.
She took refuge in one corner of the room among the wallflowers and dowagers, while Gray went in search of his own friends. Brynn was glad for the chance to compose herself-and for the unusually amiable greetings she received, grateful to know she wouldn’t be entirely shunned for the evening because of who she was.