Chapter 1

 

“This is ridiculous,” Bryna Elliott said as the carriage bounced roughly beneath her. “I should be home, taking care of Sissy and Nathaniel, not out here showing off for the Bromleys. They already know they’re better than us. What am I trying to prove?”

“I don’t know why you insist on being so difficult about such things,” her brother, Frank said, sliding his hands over his gloves. “Parties are really not the ostentatious trials you make them out to be.”

“For you maybe.” Bryna shook her head and looked out at the darkness highlighted with flashes of lightning and spattered with the icy raindrops of early January. It was almost certain they would turn to snow by morning.

“Really, Bryn. Sometimes I wonder if you think you are the servant rather than the other way around.”

“She’s my friend.”

“She is not your friend. She’s your slave. There’s a difference.”

Bryna’s soul hardened around the word. Sissy had never been her slave. The word wove terrible things into Bryna’s soul. Sissy was her friend. More to the point Sissy was her own person with her own thoughts and her own dreams. Of course, Frank would never understand that, or accept it.

The carriage slowed and then turned, bringing Bryna’s attention back to the present. “Why are we stopping?”

“I told you, Daniel Brody is now occupying the old Hathington place. I told him we would come and get him for the evening.” Frank checked her with a hard look. “Please don’t embarrass me.”

Embarrass me. The words sank right into her heart and held there. It really didn’t matter how much she ever did or why. To Frank, she would always be the family’s greatest embarrassment.

Huddled in his long black coat and black hat Daniel Brody who she had no real memory of or interest in one way or the other rocked the whole carriage as he pulled into the cab. Bryna rolled her eyes and shook her head as she angled her gaze back outside. The storm had nothing on the tumultuous seething fury in her spirit. Sissy and Nathaniel needed her. The last place she should be was out here, getting cold and soaked for no reason other than society said it was the proper thing to do.

 

Daniel Brody would much rather have stayed home and sorted the books in the extensive library he had recently inherited. His uncle’s estate was a labyrinth of old rooms filled with dust and who knew what else. The place hadn’t been touched in years, not since his uncle had died and his mother had taken over as the last of the Hathington family. The estate had been his grandparents’ before that though he hardly remembered them at all. The sad truth was the Hathington family line was riddled with more heartache than a Shakespearean tragedy. In fact, that was just one of the reasons his heart had used to justify this particular move. He could take the heartache of back East no more.

“You know,” the young lady in the silver dress said to Frank, and Daniel heard the spite, “I don’t want to stay all night.” She checked Daniel with a look meant to keep him quiet, and he gladly complied. “I don’t know why we’re out in the first place. It is a cold, wet, miserable night. Not to mention that church is in the morning, and…”

“Am I to understand that we are to be serenaded with a long litany of the horrors of the night and parties in general the whole way to the Bromley’s, Bryna?” her brother asked. Then he looked over at his seat companion. “Daniel, I beg your forgiveness for thinking it wise to bring my sister along. It will do nothing for your digestion, I assure you.”

Daniel pulled his gaze up from under his hat and smiled at her. She was, in truth, very lovely, save for the scowl etched on her face. “The truth sometimes is less favorable than we would like,” he said, bowing only slightly to her.

For a moment, Frank seemed to puzzle over the statement, and then he dismissed it entirely. “So, Daniel, are you serious about building this library of yours in our fair town? It seems a huge waste of your albeit extensive resources.”

“It is not a waste,” Daniel said, bristling. “It is a dream.” His gaze went to hers, challenging her to join her brother in his assessment of the plan. “And it is one I intend to see through to fruition.”

Frank shook his head. “I’m just saying with the backing you have, you could do anything. I don’t understand why…”

“Don’t waste too much time and energy trying to figure it out,” Daniel said with something of a smile. “Half the time I don’t even understand it myself.”

“Well, if you ever decide to give up this foolishness, we would be glad to have you join us at Schuler’s. I’m quite certain there would be a place for a man of your vast knowledge and learning there.”

On her side of the carriage Bryna, laughed softly and shook her head. Daniel’s attention went over to her and held. He wanted to ask who she was laughing at. However, before he got the words into his head, the carriage stopped in the expansive driveway of a brightly lit large mansion. The driveway itself was lined side-to-side with carriages and horses and three inches deep in mud.

“Now, Bryna, since we’re here,” Frank said, ducking to her though Daniel could plainly hear him, “could you please at least try to act as if you know how to behave in polite society? I know how very difficult that is for you, but it would be nice to be able to enjoy an entire evening without hearing you complain about every little thing.”

 

The carriage stopped completely before she could reply, and had it not meant leaving Mr. Brody to also fend for himself, Bryna would’ve waited for Frank to get out and then left without him. However, by the rapid tip-tapping on the roof and the flashes of lightning everywhere else, it was clear the skies had opened up for real. The icy rain was hardly coming in drops anymore. It was more like solid sheets one after the other after the other. When Frank opened the door, the sleet pelted even the inside of the carriage with chilly bursts of ice-water, blown in by fierce gusts of cold wind. Each gust shook the carriage at its very foundation.

Bryna shivered and fought not to shriek for the terror of the shaking. Knowing she was going to be a soaking wet, muddy mess by the time she got across the driveway to the door, she gathered up her skirts. So much for her hair that she hadn’t even really bothered to fix.

Frank never so much as stopped when he got out. Instead, he proceeded post haste through the ice pellets, dodging the other carriages and slogging his way to the illumination of the front door.

Heaving a breath because she was once again on her own as she always was with Frank around, Bryna started for the carriage door.

“Wait,” Mr. Brody said, holding up his hand to stop her from where he still sat.

She turned, half in rage and half in surrender. Before she could even ask, he angled carefully around her and disembarked. For a second she considered just staying in the carriage. It wasn’t like anyone would miss her. However, Mr. Brody was now on the ground, the ice-rain splattering across his wide-brimmed hat.

With a sigh, Bryna pulled her wrap closer to her with one hand and her skirt with the other, preparing to brave the cold that was now flooding into the carriage. Head down, she started out; however, on the first step, her gaze caught on Mr. Brody standing there, his hand held out to her.

“May I?”

Perplexed by both the gesture and the soft expectation in his dark eyes, she hesitated, not knowing what he meant much less how to answer.

Then, in that moment, he stepped closer, and without another word, he swept her off the step and right up into his arms. She gasped both at the action and because he felt absolutely rock-solid beneath her.

He settled her only once. “Good?” he asked, his eyes mere inches from hers.

Her breath locked tight in her chest. “Yes.”

He wrapped her closer to him, ducked and headed through the downpour. Bryna saw no real reason to protest or to get any more wet than she already was, so she huddled into the protectiveness of his body, the feeling of which nudged to get into her consciousness, but she beat that back. She hardly knew the man. Besides, he was just being kind. It meant no more than that.

Step-by-step, he picked his way through the mud, sinking a full two inches with every footfall. The rain splashed in the puddles as the horses drawing the carriages around them snorted and tramped. Mr. Brody never so much as slowed or hesitated until they were safely under the tall awning lined with candles and carriages. At the threshold, he gently lowered her to the ground. Trying to find something to think about other than his strength and gentleness, Bryna glanced back into the frigid night and realized why Henry, their driver, had stopped so far out.

She’d been hoping for a small party, a couple of families. This was anything but small. She brushed her sliver gown off and slipped her fingers up to her hair. “Thank you, Mr. Brody.”

His smile only went up half way, but mirth danced in his deep brown eyes as he tipped his hat. “My pleasure, Ma’am.” After tramping the mud off his boots, he turned to her. “Shall we?” Inexplicably, he offered her his arm, and Bryna’s mind spun in a million directions at once. Who was this man? He could not be a friend of her brother’s. Their manners were not in the same realm.

Inside, they each removed their outerwear and handed it to the servant. Then, together, they stepped through the large, over-sized doors.

“Miss Elliott,” Mr. Bromley said at his station near entrance to the grand room, “it’s so nice of you to come.”

“Thank you for inviting me.”

“And who is your handsome guest?” Mrs. Bromley asked.

“Oh, he’s not…” She turned to him, but Mr. Brody had taken his hat off, and the sight stunned her to the core. Dark, tall, with just more than a whisper of whiskers lining his jaw and waves of dark hair sliding down, he was the picture of manhood. All words escaped her completely. “Um…”

Mr. Brody bowed to Mrs. Bromley. “Daniel Brody, Ma’am. And I simply had the pleasure of sharing a carriage with the lady,” he said to both of them before smiling at Bryna. “Unfortunately, I am not Miss Elliott’s escort for the evening.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Bromley said, shaking his hand, “then you have come to the right place, Mr. Brody. There are many beautiful and intriguing young ladies here this evening. In fact, my daughters should be somewhere. One will be sure to catch your eye.”

Mr. Brody bowed again although only slightly. “Then I shall pay close attention.”

Bryna felt like she had the day she’d been thrown off her brother’s favorite horse. It was a curious mix of semi-consciousness and total oblivion. She turned in front of Mr. Brody but didn’t bother to speak to him again as they walked into the dance which was already in progress. Seeing her friend Jane across the way, she hurried over, wondering if her cheeks were as red as she felt them to be.

When Jane saw her, she extended both hands. “Bryna! Oh. I saw Frank arrive. I thought he must have left you at home.”

“Believe me, I tried.” Bryna greeted her friend just as Jane’s gaze traveled past her to the door.

“Who is that?” Each word was its own island.

With a glance, Bryna confirmed to herself two things, who Jane was speaking of, and that he was as heart stopping from a distance as he was from two inches away. He seemed to tower over the others as he surveyed the assembly with a seriousness that suited him quite well.

She turned back for her friend. “That is my brother’s friend, Mr. Brody, just come back from the East. He has now taken over the Hathington estate.”

“Really?” Jane’s fascination with Mr. Brody was becoming embarrassingly obvious, so Bryna turned her carefully even as her friend ducked closer. “So tell me everything. Is he married? How old? What does he do? Is he here permanently or just for a visit?”

Bryna laughed. “My dear Jane, you sound positively enthralled.”

“Who wouldn’t be? Look at him.”

“Well, if you must know, from what I gather, he is here at least for a while. He is going to start a library.”

“A library?”

“That’s what Frank said. However, Mr. Brody is apparently rather wealthy and most probably well connected also.”

“Tell me more. This story gets better and better with the telling of it.”

Bryna shook her head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have designs on the poor man.”

“And if I didn’t know better, I’d say that Abigail Bromley already does.”

“What?” Bryna turned, and the sight near the fire flipped her heart off the sheer side of a cliff.

At the fireplace, Mr. Brody stood, striking a very impressive figure. Next to him as close as propriety allowed stood Abigail Bromley, the belle of Porter County. Bryna knew with one look that any chance she’d had with Mr. Brody was left somewhere out in the pouring rain, and if Abigail had any say in the matter, they would be married by summer’s end.

“Oh, well,” Bryna said with a shrug. “I wasn’t interested anyway.”

“Not interested? I swear, Bryna Elliott, beauty and all, you are going to die an old spinster because you won’t play the game.”

“Games do not interest me.”

“Nor do gorgeous, single men obviously.”

Bryna wanted to agree, but her glance over to the fire betrayed her. They made a good couple—Mr. Brody and Abigail. Now to convince her heart of that.

“Miss Elliott,” Paul Gardiner, a young man not much her senior who lived on the other side of the county said suddenly appearing in front of her, “would you care to dance?”

It took all her wits, but she got a smile to her face and a yes to her lips.

 

Daniel stayed by the fireplace some to keep warm, but mostly because it afforded the advantage of not having to be surrounded by people. He had chatted with the younger Bromley daughter for quite some time, but when he didn’t ask her to dance, she had finally consented to dance with another young man who had come to ask her. Shortly thereafter, Frank came up, and they spoke amiably although much of their camaraderie from childhood was gone.

In the ensuing years, Frank had become very worldly in his intentions and interests and had in the bargain forgotten his good humor and merriment. To be fair, so had Daniel, and both their learned seriousness stemmed from equal portions of sorrow and hardships not uncommon to young men though more common to those of smaller means. Daniel still remembered the brief but conciliatory note he had received from Frank upon the death of his father some ten years earlier. There was no note when his mother passed on the year before, but that was probably owing to the fact that he hadn’t returned the gesture when Frank’s parents were suddenly killed not three years after Daniel’s own father’s death. He wished now that he had thought to send one though Frank made not even a single mention of it.

Nonetheless, they now stood, not as children, but as men who were forced to take their place in life much earlier than would otherwise have been advisable.

“I see you’ve met Abigail,” Frank said, nearly shouting over the music to be heard.

“Yes, I’ve had the pleasure.”

“She is some kind of something.” Frank’s gaze followed her around the ballroom, and Daniel snagged on the look of interest on his friend’s face.

“You and she…?” he asked carefully.

“What?” Then Frank realized what Daniel was asking and quickly negated the thought. “No. No. Abigail is… Well, she is used to the finer things in life.” Frank nodded. “Of which I am not.”

“Ah.” Daniel raised his chin in understanding just as his gaze caught on Bryna who was dancing and laughing. He smiled but only in his heart. “Your sister has certainly grown up.”

“Huh?” Still caught in the Abigail current, it took a moment for Frank to come back to reality. “Oh. Bryna.” He shook his head in exasperation. “I swear she is as impossible as Mama always said she was.”

There were hazy memories of Frank’s little sister, but Daniel wasn’t sure if they were his or if he’d made them up so he didn’t feel so bad about not remembering her. “She’s got great spirit. That’s not such a bad thing.”

Frank checked him with a frown. “Unless you’re supposed to be responsible for keeping that spirit under control.”

Daniel opened his mouth to ask why it needed to be, but he didn’t have the chance.

“Well, if it isn’t Frank Elliott,” a young lady came up to Frank, and they struck up a conversation that thankfully did not include Daniel.

Instead, he angled his gaze back out to the ballroom, and he watched as she clapped for the end of that song. For as drastically against coming tonight as she was in the carriage, she looked like she was having a marvelous time. His heart lifted at that thought as his mind spun back in time trying to figure out how old she must’ve been when her parents died. Twelve or thirteen, no more than fourteen he finally decided.

“Mr. Brody,” the young lady next to Frank said, holding out her hand, and he was forced to rejoin reality.

 

“Your friend hasn’t danced all night,” Jane said, an hour later, lifting her chin to the corner by the fireplace in case Bryna didn’t know who she was talking about.

“And this concerns me how?”

Jane frowned and shook her head as she planted her hands on her hips. “If you don’t go ask him, then I will.”

“Ask him?” Bryna gazed at her friend as if she’d just fallen from the moon and hit her head. “I am not going to ask him to dance. He would think I was shameless, not to even mention what Frank would think or say. No, I’m far better off staying over here.”

“Frank is dancing with Mary.”

Bryna spun so quickly, it was impossible to convince anyone she wasn’t keenly aware and interested in what was going on in the corner. Sure enough, her brother and his sometimes girlfriend were headed to the dance floor.

Jane pushed her slightly. “Just go talk to him. He looks bored and lonely.” She pushed her again. “Go.”

“Ugh.” Bryna knew she would go although all of her rational thoughts said it was a very bad idea. Slowly she made her way through the crowd and around the perimeter of the room, hoping someone would ask her to dance or stop her to talk before she got to the fireplace. However, her luck was running bone dry on that count.

Mr. Brody was leaning next to the mantle, watching the dancers, talking to no one but not seeming to mind. When she approached, she had to swallow the beating of her heart lest he hear it over the merriment of the music. At the fire she warmed her hands as if she was cold, which she most definitely was not.

“Having a nice time?” she finally asked him because it appeared he hadn’t even noticed her approach.

“Yes.” He bowed with his head only. It was amazing how he could smile without really doing so. “And you?”

“Yes. It is much better in here than out there.” She motioned out the door as heat seeped through her. He didn’t say anything, and she fought to figure out what to do or say next. “Thank you, for before. I sometimes wonder when Frank’s around if I’m actually invisible.”

Mr. Brody’s gaze started down her but stopped quickly, coming right back to her eyes. “Let me assure you, Miss Elliott, you are anything but invisible.”

She half nodded at the compliment. At least she thought it was a compliment. But the moment after he’d said it, he turned once again to look at the dancers so that he was no longer even looking at her. She let her gaze slide across the dancers as well, but instead it caught on Jane, across the room, pushing her through the air to say something else. Taking a breath, she let it out slowly.

“So, do you dance, Mr. Brody?”

He anchored both arms around in front of him even as he leaned against the wall. “Not very well, I’m afraid. That is one thing my mother, God rest her soul, missed in my education process.”

That grabbed her attention, and she tilted her head. “Your mother is… has…”

He nodded with a tight, sad smile. “Last year.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The mantle of perfection that she had assumed he carried fell from her eyes, and for the first time she looked at him not as some god but as a real, live flesh-and-blood man. Knowing not another smidgen of information, she suddenly felt very close to him as someone who had also known great sorrow. She let her gaze fall from his face for a moment, trying to figure out what to say next, and then she pulled it back up. “So do you not dance at all or just not very well?”

Confused and amused, his gaze came back to her. “Oh. Uh. Not very well I’m afraid. My older sister used to use me as her practice dummy, but she pretty much just dragged me around to music only she could hear.”

Bryna smiled at both the picture that created and his amusement as he said it.

The music ended, and everyone clapped. Her attention slipped out to the others as the next song started, and a thought occurred to her. “Can you count to three, Mr. Brody?”

True confusion with no tinge of mirth crossed his face. “To three, Miss Elliott?”

She shifted one way. “One, two, three.” And then the opposite way. “One, two, three. It’s really very easy if you can count to three.”

 

Nothing in any of his education or training had prepared Daniel for this. If he didn’t miss his guess, he was being asked to dance, and if he also didn’t miss a further guess, she had come over for that purpose alone. Pushing all the screaming protests in his mind down, he straightened from his leaning position and bowed with his head only. “Would you like to dance, Miss Elliott?”

Her smile was the happiest one he’d seen so far. “Why, certainly, Mr. Brody. How did you know I love to waltz?”

He shrugged as he took her hand. “I took a guess.” His heart was slamming into his ribcage by the time they got through the crowd to the dance floor. He really wasn’t kidding. He was pitiful at this. And the fact that her hand was now in his wasn’t helping matters.

However, on the dance floor, she simply lifted her arms and let his join them. Her eyes caught his, and the soft brown-gold in them captivated him. “It’s very easy, Mr. Brody. Just count. ‘One, two, three. One, two, three.’” She pushed them off, and he let his feet follow hers. “One, two, three. One, two, three.”

With everything in him he wished that he was better at this so instead of concentrating on the steps, he could concentrate on her. Then again, every time he looked at her, he realized the danger of that idea. So instead he let his concentration settle on her voice as she counted out the beats. Only once on their trek around the floor did he loose the count, forcing them to start over.

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling the heat from the exertion or something else seep up his neck and into his face. “I told you I’m not good at this.”

She simply laughed. “Everyone makes a few mistakes, Mr. Brody. Dancing is not about perfection, only about having fun.”

Stepping back to her, he fought all the rushing emotions swirling in him as they started again. He had almost gotten to the point of allowing himself moments to feel her in his arms when the song ended. As if she hadn’t felt more than a polite responsibility in the affair, she backed away from him and clapped.

“See,” she said as they made their way back to the fireplace, “I told you. It is not that difficult.”

“I will not take any credit for the fact that you still have toes,” he said, his heart lifting in his chest. “That is a merely stroke of pure luck on your part.”

Unfettered happiness radiated from her face. “Well, I think you are a very fine dancer, or at least you are when you can hear the music you are trying to dance to.”

He caught on both the joke and that she had listened enough to make it. “Well, thank you for taking time out to teach me.”

Her smile was sassy and sweet. “You are very welcome.”

“Hm.” From behind her, Frank cleared his throat, and they both turned. Frank smiled, barely, at Daniel, and then his gaze fell to Bryna. “May I speak with you?”

 

The cheerfulness she had found in the last half hour fell away from her. “Will you excuse us, Mr. Brody?”

Frank didn’t look at all pleased.

“Certainly.” Mr. Brody didn’t look overly delighted either.

She made what amounted to a walking curtsey and followed Frank from the room. In the side room where only a few people stood, Frank spun on her.

“What do you think you are doing?” he hissed, his gaze going to the others to make sure they hadn’t heard. “What are you thinking?”

Bryna blinked into the firestorm. “I don’t understand.”

“Daniel. Mr. Brody.” Frank’s exasperation grew with each utterance. He pushed his fingers through his hair. “People are watching, and I do not want them to get the wrong idea about the two of you.”

“What wrong idea? We just danced.”

“I saw you. Bryna. You purposely went over there so he would feel obligated to ask you to dance.”

“I went to talk to him as a friend. There’s nothing wrong with…”

“Stop it, Bryn. Don’t lie to me like that. You and I both know how quickly rumors get started in these parts, and I cannot afford rumors. Now, Daniel is here on business only. My firm is handling the transfer of his grandparents’ estate. I do not want tongues in town to start wagging about a conflict of interest.”

It would be best to acquiesce, but Bryna couldn’t help tweaking her brother. “Who says it was a conflict of interest? Maybe he liked it very much.”

“Bryna Rose Elliott.” Frank’s voice hardened dangerously. “I have half a mind to send you home right now.”

“Send me home?” She laughed. “Ha. That’s rich. You practically dragged me here in the first place. Besides, I would think you would be happy about me dancing with Mr. Brody. If I married him, that would put your greedy little hands that much closer to his ‘resources’ as you put it.”

He grabbed her by both arms and spun her around the doorframe. “I’m telling you. This is not some kind of game. Mr. Schuler trusted me with the transfer of this estate, and I do not plan to let him down.” Frank lowered his gaze and his voice even more. “Now you listen to me. I cannot risk Daniel thinking he’s in love with you. That can only end in disaster.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “Why?”

“Bec…” He checked the level of his voice. “Because I know you, and you are never serious enough about anything that really matters to me. You mess things up for me on purpose, and don’t say you don’t because I know you do. Besides, you are not woman enough to hold Daniel Brody, and sooner or later, he will figure that out. When he does, it will put me in a very untenable position as the executor of the estate.”

Like someone putting a death pallor over her, Bryna heard and understood to the depth of her being everything her brother was saying.

“I’m telling you, Bryna, do not wreck this for me. We need the money I stand to make on this deal. That style you’ve grown accustomed to living in doesn’t come cheap. Do you understand me?”

Fighting the tears and the understanding that he was treating her like she was two, Bryna nodded. “Will Mr. Brody be going home with us when we leave?”

“Yes, he will.”

She let her gaze fall. “Then when are we leaving?”

 

Daniel had wanted to follow them, but he knew better. Still, every few seconds his gaze strayed over to the two large doors where neither of them appeared for minutes upon minutes. His heart said he should go look for them. They were, after all, his ride home; however, he forced his feet not to follow what his heart was saying. The party continued around him though he was no longer a part of it as if he ever had been.

“Mr. Brody,” Abigail said, sashaying up to him. “It pains me to see you standing over here looking so very abandoned. Would you do me the honor of allowing me to share your company for a while?”

How could he refuse? He tried to smile. “Certainly.”

 

Without so much as looking his direction, Bryna re-entered the ballroom and headed for Jane. They would be leaving soon, and she needed to tell her friend good-bye. That was her intent; however, Jane’s deep frown told her it wouldn’t be quite that easy.

“What happened? I saw you dancing, and then you left.”

“Frank.” It really needed not much more than that.

“What is his problem anyway?”

Bryna shrugged. “What’s always his problem? Me.”

Jane’s scowl deepened. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re leaving very soon.”

“Already? We’ve hardly had a chance to talk.”

Pulling some cheerfulness back to her, Bryna pulled her friend to her. “And whose fault was that?”

“Bryn,” Jane started.

“No, Jane.” With all the ease of a thousand times of practice, Bryna put a smile on her face. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

 

“Daniel?” Frank stepped up to the conversation Daniel was only passively engaged in.

“Frank?” He straightened immediately. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Frank looked down at Abigail. “Abigail.”

“Frank,” she said with a slight but annoyed bow.

“Is Bryna all right?” Daniel asked, scanning the area behind Frank for any sign of her. Concern slipped into him when he realized she hadn’t followed her brother.

“She’s fine. Just being Bryna. She can be such a child sometimes.”

Abigail giggled.

Both the statement and the dismissive quality of Frank’s tone sliced through Daniel. In concern, he let his gaze sweep the full length of the room. Across the way she was huddled with her friend, the one she had been talking with most of the night. She smiled but not at all happily.

“I believe we will need to be going soon,” Frank continued. “With the dropping of the temperatures, the rain has turned fully to ice. With the weather it will be slow going home.”

“Of course.” Daniel barely remembered to acknowledge Abigail. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss Bromley.”

“You too, Mr. Brody. Please come again.”

He smiled and then retrained his attention to Frank. “Are you going to call the carriage, or would you like me to?”

“Oh, I can. No need to trouble yourself with details.”

 

“Oh! They’re leaving,” Bryna said, catching their movement toward the door. “I’ve got to go.”

“Bryn.”

“I’ll come and visit. I promise.” And with that, Bryna left her friend and hurried to the doors, feeling the chill of the coming ice storm with every step. Frank had disappeared through the doors, leaving Mr. Brody talking to Abigail. It was a setup she knew she would lose, but she walked up to them anyway. “Abigail.” Bryna bowed her head slightly.

“Bryna.” There was a definite iciness to Abigail’s tone. Her gaze slipped up and down Bryna. “It’s such a shame that you have no one to train you on the finer points of appropriate societal appearances. Why your hair looks positively provincial.”

Bryna slipped her hand up to her hair which was barely in a twist at the back of her neck. It wasn’t that much different than how she wore in on non-special occasions. “I didn’t really have time to do anything special with it, what with the weather and all.”

Abigail smirked at her. “Well, it certainly looks that way.”

Why had Bryna agreed to any of this? She should have stayed at home. Getting out wasn’t worth this. “I’ll just be outside.” She bowed but not really. “Abigail.”

“Bryna.”

 

Before Daniel could move to accompany her, Abigail stepped between them. “I know she has lost her parents, but really, would it kill her to put a little effort into going out in public?”

He couldn’t even bring himself to smile at the little wench. “Excuse me.”

“What? But…”

And he left her standing with her mouth hanging open.

“Bryn… Miss Elliott, wait. Please.” He hurried up as she swung her wrap around her shoulders. “I’m sorry about that.”

She sniffed. He heard it, but there was only the barest shimmer in her eyes when she looked up at him. “That wasn’t your fault. Believe me, I’ve heard much worse.” She put her gloves on as he retrieved his outerwear from the servant.

“Frank is supposed to be bringing up the carriage.” Daniel raced to catch up with her as she headed for the door. “I’ll just go out and make sure it is here.” So that she wouldn’t misunderstand, he snagged her progress by putting his hand on her elbow. “Miss Elliott, please. Stay here. There’s no need for you to be out in the elements any longer than necessary.”

 

With everything in her she wanted to be mad at him, or embarrassed for herself, or something, but when she looked up into those dark brown eyes, pleading with her to let him smooth out the rough edges of the world for her, Bryna couldn’t be any of those things. “All right.”

A nod to make sure she didn’t move and he headed out the door. When he was gone, she closed her eyes and let her mind run like a racehorse through the entire night. It wasn’t at all fair that Frank was so against the two of them ever being together. Letting herself fall for Daniel Brody would’ve been the easiest thing she had ever done—even owing to the age difference, which she could only guess at. But knowing Frank, he would make sure their paths never crossed again, and there was nothing she could do about that.

After only a few minutes, the large outside door swung open again, and black coat wrapped solidly around him, Mr. Brody stepped back in. “It’s gotten much worse. The rain is changing over to ice and snow.”

Worry slapped into her. “Will it be safe to get home?”

“We should be all right if we leave now.”

Nodding, Bryna let him put his arm around her and guide her out into the horrific night beyond. Snow and ice blew sideways across the landscape beyond. She looked up, seeing Henry perched atop the carriage. He would be frozen by the time they got home.

“Are you sure this is wise?” she yelled up at Daniel.

“Just get in.”

“No. For Henry. Are you sure…”

But he opened the door and helped her inside. She barely got seated before he was in on the opposite side.

She directed her question to Frank. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Henry could get truly ill from being out there like this.”

“It’s fine.” Frank knocked on the carriage, and it started forward.

“Maybe we should stay the night. It’s miles before we get home,” she continued. “Henry is not a young man, Frank. He shouldn’t be out there like this. If he gets ill…”

“Bryna.” The sharp sound slammed her to a stop. “Henry, as you so affectionately refer to him, is used to long hours in adverse conditions. If he wasn’t, we would have dismissed him or sold him long before now.”

“But Frank…”

“No, Bryna.” And this time, he pointedly angled his gaze to their guest. “Now no more arguing. I’m tired of it.”

But just because she wasn’t voicing it, didn’t mean she’d stopped feeling the worry or the anger.