Brynn returned a wry smile at her friend’s delight. “I don’t consider smuggling to be intriguing. Actually, it is very hard work, and rather dangerous. But it is a fact of life where I come from, a way to make ends meet. I know of few families who aren’t involved in some fashion or another.”
“And you take part yourself?”
“Not often. Mostly I handle disposing of various kinds of contraband.”
“I think it would be gratifying,” Raven said almost wistfully, “to be able to engage in adventures forbidden to women. Still… I wouldn’t advertise your connection to Lucian, if I were you.”
It was Brynn’s turn to be curious. “Why not?”
“Because he has a great aversion to smugglers. I’ve heard him express his opinion in no uncertain terms. Smuggling cheats the government of badly needed tax revenue that Britain and the allies must have to vanquish the French. I can understand his point of view, even if I don’t share it. Lucian has spent years trying to bring down Napoleon. He takes pride in his work-even though spying is considered a vulgar enterprise by most of the ton.”
“Spying?”
At Brynn’s quizzical look, Raven added, “Lucian is a genuine spymaster, did he not tell you?”
Brynn felt her heartbeat quicken with alarm. “My brother said he worked for the Foreign Office.”
“He does. In intelligence. It is all very clandestine and hush-hush. Sometimes Lucian disappears for weeks at a time, no doubt on some mission or other. He won’t discuss his work, but in fact he is considered something of a hero.”
Brynn scarcely heard that last remark, for she was still recovering from the shock of her friend’s revelation. Disquieted, she thought back over her various conversations with Lucian, wondering if she had ever said anything in his presence to implicate her brother in the illegal act of smuggling. She hadn’t considered Lucian as a danger to her family, only to her, but now she realized he could very well be a threat to Gray.
And Lucian hadn’t mentioned a word about his occupation to her, Brynn thought, vexed. His secretiveness and lack of candor was yet another cause for resentment, while the danger was one more reason to be wary of her new husband.
“Forgive me, Brynn…”
She shook herself mentally when she realized Raven had spoken to her. “I’m sorry, I was woolgathering. What did you say?”
“I know it is none of my business, but is something wrong between you and Lucian?”
“No. Why would you think so?”
“You are scarcely ever together, for one thing. You don’t behave at all like newlyweds.”
Brynn forced a smile. “Ours was a marriage of convenience, nothing more. I am perfectly content with our arrangement.”
And even if that was a lie, Brynn reflected, she was glad she seldom encountered Lucian.
Other than his work, several other business enterprises apparently occupied his time, including the vast Wycliff shipping concerns. When he was home, he was often closeted with his secretary as well as numerous business mangers and clerks.
And according to the Wycliff butler, Lucian regularly engaged in the typical gentlemen’s sports of riding, fencing, and fisticuffs. In the evenings he frequently dined at his club. And afterward, well… Brynn suspected Lucian was carousing with his Hellfire colleagues, since he never returned until late at night.
The evenings were the worst for her. After lonely dinners with only herself for companionship, she would lie in wait for him, dreading his visits, although she had usually fallen asleep by the time he came to her bed. Emotionless, silent, he would awaken her with his dispassionate caresses, arousing her as if performing a perfunctory and not particularly pleasant chore. Just as silently, he would return to his own rooms, leaving her burning with the pleasure he had given her.
Brynn fought his carnal mastery with fierce determination. He might possess her in the flesh, but she would never allow him to touch her spirit.
The days were more pleasant, at least. Not surprisingly, Lucian possessed an extensive library, and Brynn discovered countless subjects within the shelves of leather-bound tomes that interested her. Additionally, she spent hours reading the newspapers to which her husband subscribed, catching up on the events of the world, events that were rarely even discussed in the backwaters of home.
And thankfully Raven proved a delightful companion. Brynn thought she might be truly miserable without their friendship. They rode in the park each morning and paid calls or visited the shops each afternoon. Raven was grimly determined to assemble a trousseau befitting her impending marriage to a duke. And she proved to be a stern taskmaster in demanding that her own advice regarding Brynn’s apparel be followed.
Brynn found her wardrobe growing at a shameful rate-dresses for morning, afternoon, and evening, walking and riding and traveling, shoes and bonnets and reticules to match, spencers and pelisses…
She regarded the expense a shocking waste, especially when she considered how much good she could do at home with even a tiny fraction of what she was so nonchalantly spending. The centuries-old stone church of the St. Mawes parish was crumbling. Her own home badly needed repairs. Most of the fishing vessels owned by th
e villagers were held together by prayers… It was dismaying to realize that a single one of the new gowns Raven insisted she purchase could lift a Cornish family out of squalor into relative prosperity.
Yet beautiful gowns were necessary for the role she must play. Raven was right, Brynn conceded; she needed to be fashionably attired if she intended to stare down the despots of the ton. And while she had no profound desire to enter Lucian’s aristocratic world of luxury and license, or to become a useless ornament for his earldom, she did indeed want a place in society for Theo… and for her possible future children, if it came to that.
Moreover, Brynn admitted only to herself, after being shunned for so many years, it was gratifying to be accepted into a group where no one knew anything of her past, instead of being treated like a leper.