Free The Accidental Bride by Jane Feather Page A

time when the marquis had been both friend and most loyal subject.
    “A man is not responsible for his treacherous relatives,” declared Prince Rupert, the king’s nephew, in what could have been an attempt at heavy comfort. His florid, handsome face was flushed from the contents of the chalice he held between his beringed hands.
    “And even less for a stepfather,” agreed Sir Jacob. “Does Granville still receive you?”
    “He has done up to now, sir.” Brian’s mouth thinned to the point of invisibility, and his hard eyes seemed to grow even smaller. He would not soon forget the humiliation visited upon him the last time he’d stayed under his stepfather’s roof. The marquis’s bastard niece, Portia Worth, now the countess of Rothbury, had played him for a fool, and the brat Olivia had had her part in it too.
    He still squirmed at the memory of his stepsister’s laughing, taunting eyes as she’d enjoyed his mortification. A true case of turned tables. In the past he had held the upper hand, subjecting the child to a reign of terror and uncertainty purely for the amusement it afforded him, and he had every intention of regaining that control. Once he stood as head of the Granville family, he would have ample opportunity to seek revenge upon the girl.
    “I had thought that perhaps I might work some mischiefto good purpose under my stepfather’s roof,” he continued smoothly. “He will receive me again, and with open arms if I imply that perhaps my allegiance grows uncertain?”
    He glanced around the room, watching for reaction. The king looked merely weary, Rupert interested, Sir Jacob and the duke clearly reserving judgment.
    “A spy in the enemy camp?” queried Rupert.
    “In a manner of speaking, sir.” Brian shrugged easily. “Someone to plant misinformation, perhaps. To look and listen. To find something useful, perhaps. Something that might make trouble between Granville and the others.”
    There was a short silence, then the king said, “D’ye have a clear plan, Mr. Morse? Or are you catching at straws?”
    “No straws, Sire. I don’t have a clear plan as yet, but, if I might say so, I have a certain . . . a certain facility for seizing the main chance. Things occur to me that might not occur to someone else.”
    “To a less devious mind,” said Prince Rupert with a chuckle. “Aye, I heard tell of your dealings with Strickland in The Hague. Fooled him completely for a while, I understand.”
    “For long enough to gather the information we needed,” Brian agreed without undue modesty. This was neither the time nor the place for such.
    “Granville’s married again, I hear,” Sir Jacob said suddenly.
    Brian’s face became as smooth as polished marble. “To his late wife’s sister,” he replied. “The alliance of Granville and Carlton thus continues as strong as before.”
    King Charles rubbed his temples. “Which brings us back to Sir Jacob’s plan of divide and rule.”
    “Cromwell and Fairfax are as close as two peas in a pod,” the duke pointed out. “And as Morse says, the alliance between Granville and Carlton is well cemented.”
    “But if they were obliged to take sides over one of their number,” suggested Brian. His mind was racing. He hadn’t expected to be given such an opportunity so quickly. But hecould see his way clear now to making a dramatic contribution to the king’s cause. A contribution that would further his own ends.
    He stepped up to the table and stood with his hands lightly balled into fists resting on the gleaming satinwood.
    “My stepfather’s trusted by both Cromwell and Fairfax, but supposing his loyalty came into question. If Cromwell supported him and Fairfax didn’t . . .” He glanced around the paneled chamber, an eyebrow raised interrogatively.
    Sir Jacob kicked a slipping log back into the grate. “Granville’s an honorable man.” The quiet statement lay untouched for a moment in the dusty, crowded chamber.
    “You would call a