“That would be wonderful,” Brynn exclaimed, sitting up in bed. “I shall write his masters at once.”
Lucian laughed at her eagerness, and yet he was true to his word, escorting her to see Theo at school. Harrow was located only a short drive north of London, and after collecting the boy, they made a full day of it, enjoying an alfresco luncheon in Epping Forest and returning to wander the shops on the narrow, winding streets of Harrow Hill and take tea.
Lucian acted the ideal host, putting himself out to make the experience delightful for both Brynn and Theo, and neither of them wanted it to end. Theo was especially awed by Lucian, hanging on his every word, and more than once expressed gratitude for enabling him to attend school.
“Don’t thank me,” Lucian replied easily. “It was your sister’s doing.”
Theo sent Brynn a solemn look. “I know, sir. And I will try to prove myself worthy of her sacrifice.”
Seeing Lucian wince, Brynn swiftly changed the subject.
The visit, however, proved to be the happiest time for Brynn since her marriage. And once she had reassured herself that her young brother was content, her heart was lighter than it had been in months.
Even when they returned to London, her feeling of optimism remained. She no longer felt quite so lonely-how could she be when Lucian was determined to act the ideal husband? And she was busier than ever. She still frequently assisted Raven with her upcoming nuptials. And with London’s fall social season in full cry, the Earl and Countess of Wycliff were much in demand. They chose from among a dozen invitations each night-fetes and balls, soirees and musicales, routs and supper parties. Lucian provided Brynn escort to any function she expressed a desire to attend.
“You don’t have to accompany me every evening,” she remarked once when they were perusing the stack of invitations.
He smiled. “Ah, but I do, love. As your husband, it is my duty to protect you from the lecherous males of our fair city.”
Despite his teasing tone, she felt her heart sink to be reminded of the danger. “I don’t wish to deprive you of your usual pursuits,” she replied, skirting the issue.
“You aren’t.”
“You don’t miss your Hellfire League entertainments?”
“How could I miss such mundane affairs when I have my delectable wife to keep me satisfied?”
She doubted those wicked affairs were at all mundane, although she didn’t press the point. Yet while Brynn disliked admitting it, she was secretly glad Lucian had deferred his participation in the League. She didn’t care to think of him consorting with the brand of females that entertained the dissolute Hellfire members.
Indeed, she didn’t care to think of Lucian with any other female at all. He was as much sought after by the fairer sex as she was by her suitors, and dismayingly, Brynn found herself stung by jealousy each time a beautiful woman looked at him with lust. She was aware that Lucian had had any number of mistresses before his marriage, and she found herself scanning the crowds, wondering which ones had enjoyed his patronage.
Yet he seemed interested only in her for the moment, and wholly dedicated to his pledge of getting her with child.
A week following their visit to Harrow, Brynn was sitting at her dressing table, having her hair arranged, for they planned to attend a ball later that evening after dining at home. When she sensed Lucian’s presence, she looked up to find him leaning indolently against the door from her sitting room.
Her heart started beating in that slow, heavy way it did whenever he was near-and accelerated when she saw he wasn’t at all prepared to go to the ball. He wore only a dressing robe of forest green brocade, which clearly told her he had more than dancing till dawn on his mind. He stood there a moment, so handsome that Brynn realized she was forgetting to breathe.
Then, with a brief nod, he summarily dismissed her maid, vexing Brynn somewhat with his presumption.
“Meg was not finished with my hair,” she protested when the girl had scurried from the room.
“She can finish later. I ordered dinner served in your sitting room, and the dishes won’t remain warm for long. Will you join me, love? ”
All he had to do was smile that lazy, entrancing smile, exactly as he was doing now, and Brynn’s vexation melted.
He offered her his hand and escorted her to the adjacent sitting room, where delicious aromas assaulted her senses. The scene was staged for lovers, Brynn realized. A fire burned lazily in the hearth, a
nd the table that had been set up for their repast groaned with sumptuous dishes-braised duck and ragout of veal, tomato aspic, potatoes in Hollandaise sauce, and artichoke hearts, with desserts of Geonese cakes and raspberry cream.
Lucian took it upon himself to serve her, and when they were done, he sat back and eyed Brynn over his wineglass, his gaze lingering brazenly on her bosom.
She felt herself flush at his lascivious look. “Must you ogle me that way?” she said finally. “Every time you look at me, I feel ravished.”
“Perhaps because every time I look at you, I want to ravish you.”
She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Shouldn’t you begin dressing for the ball?”
“My appetite hasn’t been satisfied yet.”