Free Lord Braybrook’s Penniless Bride by Elizabeth Rolls

if only as part of her remuneration, she was entitled to some enjoyment in her life. It might ram the message home to Lissy all the faster, he told himself. Yes, that was it.
    He looked across at Serena. She raised her brows, dearly.
    ‘We still have Merlin in the stables,’ he said, wondering what the devil was so entertaining.
    She smiled. ‘Dear Merlin. I dare say he will be glad of a little outing. By all means, dear. I’m sure it will be very beneficial.’
    Beneficial for whom? wondered Julian. Something about Serena’s smile had alarm bells clanging. He turned to Miss Daventry. ‘Ma’am, if you would care for it, you may ride Lady Braybrook’s old mount. He is very quiet, used to carrying a lady.’
    Miss Daventry demurred. Of course.
    ‘Thank you, sir, but I will be more than happy to remain with Lady Braybrook. I—’
    ‘No, dear. Go with them,’ said Serena. ‘I would be much happier if you learned to ride. Lissy is for ever giving the grooms the slip when she rides out, but I fancy she will not be so rag-mannered with you! Especially if she knows you to be inexperienced.’ She shot a glance at her daughter. Who blushed.
    In one final attempt to avoid her fate, Miss Daventry said, ‘But I have no riding habit!’
    Serena—Julian silently blessed her—dismissed that with a wave of her hand. ‘Oh, pish! You may have my old one. It will be a little large, but the colour will suit you. It’s quite a dark blue, so you need not scruple to wear it despite your mourning. And there are any number of mourning gowns in my dressing room. Heaven knows I wouldn’t fit into most of them any more.’ She smiled ruefully at Miss Daventry, and added, ‘I have a tendency to put on weight sitting in this horrid chair. It would be better, of course, if I were not so fond of cakes and made more use of my exercise chair.’
    Julian looked at Lissy. His sister was watching Miss Daventry, an odd expression on her face, as the companion accepted politely.

Chapter Five
    C hristy frowned at her reflection. The riding habit was slightly too large, but the wretched thing was almost flattering. She had an observable figure. Most of her gowns deliberately disguised that. Wearing gowns in any way related to one’s shape was, in the crudely expressed opinion of her former employer, ‘asking for it’. Too-large gowns—which were easier to button up unassisted—the caps, and the spectacles all helped. Not that the spectacles were mere disguise—she would trip over her own feet without them.
    No one looked beyond a dull, shapeless gown, the cap and spectacles. They saw only the dowdy paid companion or governess. It was safer that way.
    Only she had the uncomfortable sensation that, like his lordship, Lady Braybrook saw Christy, not Miss Daventry. She had been right about the habit suiting Christy. The deep blue gave a little colour to her cheeks, although that might be the country air. She fingered the braid up the front of the habit. It was beautiful, so elegant. She had never worn such clothes in her life. Perhaps it didn’t matter. She was still the companion-governess. Borrowed plumage did not make fine birds, she told herself as she went downstairs.
    ‘There you are!’
    Lissy and Matthew were waiting in the hall, which Christy had learnt was the Great Hall. Apparently Amberley was very old indeed and the Trenthams had been here for ever.
    ‘You do look nice,’ said Lissy, and Christy bit her lip not to smile at the new hint of patronage. ‘The horses have been brought around. We have Mama’s old hack for you. He’s terribly quiet.’
    ‘Not a slug, though,’ put in Matthew. ‘You could have ridden another horse, but Julian said it was better to be safe than sorry. He said he didn’t want to bury you.’ Not a hint of patronage there.
    ‘An unwelcome expense, no doubt,’ said Christy.
    Matthew grinned. ‘He didn’t put it quite like that.’ The grin turned impish. ‘It was more the