As the week passed, she found it harder to allow herself to mope and wallow in loneliness. The moments when she longed for even a Latin grammar to help occupy her thoughts were gone.
She gradually began making acquaintances as she allowed Raven to coax her out of seclusion. Perhaps it was time, Brynn rationalized, to stop hiding at home like a prisoner, letting the curse rule her life. But she made a concerted effort to dull her demeanor, remaining polite but distant in company, speaking only when spoken to.
She liked most of Raven’s friends, and some she even found clever and fascinating. Raven, with her own brand of beauty and lively allure, proved a potent draw, and handsome young gentlemen regularly flocked around her like honeybees-gentlemen who regrettably soon turned their attention to Brynn, despite her earnest attempts to act the wallflower.
Lucian wasn’t pleased to find his wife the object of such ardor, either. One afternoon he came home to discover Brynn surrounded by a half dozen young bucks gathered in his drawing room, with only Raven providing female chaperonage.
A dandy with an outrageously high cravat was reciting a sonnet praising the lure of Lady Wycliff’s emerald eyes, but since the verse didn’t quite rhyme, it was received with winces and convivial laughter.
“No, no, I am being unjustly maligned,” the poet protested amiably.
Brynn’s low voice held a smile when she agreed. “Indeed, Mr. Pickering. You should be commended for your effort.”
Lucian felt an unreasonable shaft of jealousy as he paused in the doorway. For the most part he’d succeeded in resisting his desire for Brynn this past week, but seeing her looking so fresh and lovely in a jonquil-shaded gown aroused him, while the presence of so many admiring beaux incited an uncustomary instinct of primitive male possessiveness.
The company grew suddenly quiet when Lucian moved into the room. Clamping down on his jealousy, he kept his expression bland as he crossed to Brynn and bent to kiss her cheek.
“Why don’t you introduce me to your friends, my dear?” he said lightly, ignoring her flush and the way she visibly stiffened.
Raven stepped in to perform the duty, however, while Brynn fell silent. It was soon clear that the lively mood of the company had changed to reserved formality. And when Lucian settled himself beside his wife on the settee, he found himself the recipient of continual wary glances.
After a short while the gentlemen began to excuse themselves. When the last one had gone, Raven gave Lucian a disapproving frown as she rose to her feet. “I am sorry that we have seen so very little of you lately, Lucian.”
“Regrettably I have been busy.”
“You seem to have forgotten that you are recently wed. I would not have expected you to neglect your bride so.”
He glanced at Brynn. “My bride doesn’t seem to be suffering. Not when I find her holding court for admirers who compose sonnets to her emerald eyes.”
Brynn returned her husband’s gaze with a cool look before she rose from the settee. “You needn’t champion me, Raven. I am quite content. Come, I will show you out.”
She started to follow her friend from the room, but halted when Lucian called softly to her, feeling a warm shiver run down her spine. It disturbed her that just the sound of his voice could affect her.
“Need I warn you, love, that you have a position to uphold in society now?”
Wincing at his implied criticism, she glanced back at him. “I have done nothing wrong.”
“Perhaps not, but encouraging the attentions of those wild young bucks could give the wrong impression.”
His accusation stung, yet she knew Lucian was right. She had indeed forgotten herself this afternoon. She would have to take greater care to remember the dangers of becoming too friendly with her admirers.
Squaring her shoulders, Brynn sidestepped his charge with an indirect reply. “Is there a reason you deigned to grace us with your company this afternoon, my lord?”
“Must I have a reason to return to my own home?”
“You have been here so seldom, I thought perhaps you might have one.”
“Actually I wanted to deliver an invitation to you. My great-aunt, Lady Agatha Edgecomb, is holding a garden party in our honor Saturday next.”
Brynn stared at him in surprise. “In our honor? When I first met her, Lady Agatha swore she would never acknowledge our marriage. She thinks me nothing but a tart.”
Lucian’s mouth curved dryly. “I persuaded her to reconsider. She understands she has no choice but to accept you as my wife if she doesn’t want me to cut the connection.”
“That does so relieve my mind,” Brynn said with false sincerity. “Your aunt will make such a delightful acquaintance.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed at her facetious tone, but he answered mildly, “I don’t care much for my relatives, particularly Aunt Agatha, but I trust you will behave with circumspection and give them no cause to impugn our marriage.”
Brynn smiled coolly. “They will doubtless impugn our marriage, no matter how I behave. And if you wanted a model of circumspection, you should have considered that before you wed me,” she retorted before walking from the room.