Bride Ball
A Grimm Revisited Collection
BRENNA LYONS
Published by Phaze Books
Also by Brenna Lyons
The Last of Fion’s Daughters
We Shall Live Again
“The Fire God’s Woman”
from Coming Together: Under Fire
Fates Magic
Rites of Mating
In Her Ladyship’s Service
Matchmaker’s Misery
Animal Instincts
Night Warriors
Will of the Stone
Bearing Armen
Veriel’s Tales: Crossbearer Turned
Veriel’s Tales II: Losing Regana
and many more…
This is an explicit and erotic novel
intended for the enjoyment
of adult readers. Please keep
out of the hands of children.
www.Phaze.com
Bride Ball copyright 2010 by Brenna Lyons
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A Phaze Production
Phaze Books
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Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222
Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC.
To order additional copies of this book, contact:
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Cover art © 2009 Debi Lewis
Edited by Kathryn Lively
eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-60659-552-7
First Edition – January, 2010
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Dedicated to...
Grimm, the first love of my fantasy life, as it is for so many fantasy authors.
Tamer, the love that was meant to be.
Table of Contents
“It really is time, Edward,” King Benjamin decreed with some measure of finality. “You’ve put this off long enough.”
Edward sighed, staring out through the windows that overlooked the royal gardens. He’d suspected this was coming when his father had sent for him. “Perhaps, if I went abroad—”
“Rulers of Lenvia have always wed our own.”
Again, it was absolute. Twenty-five was an unseemly age to be a royal bachelor, and his bride must be Lenvian by birth. If only the whole thing wasn’t so tedious.
“Come now. She needn’t be nobility or royalty. Your own mother wasn’t, when I met her.”
Edward winced, biting back the completely uncharitable observation that his mother was precisely the type of woman he didn’t want.
Alana was pretty enough, but as far as Edward could tell, she’d never loved King Benjamin, even when he was Prince Benjamin. She was little better than a long-term prostitute and surrogate, highly paid to be sexually inventive and receptive...and to provide at least one heir to the throne. She had produced only Edward, by her choice, and so he was in the hot seat.
“If you went out among the people,” his father suggested, setting off the horror show in Edward’s mind.
“I’m always too visible. The moment someone spies me, I am swarmed with women.”
“Eager women,” Benjamin noted.
“Shameless wantons,” he corrected.
“And the problem with that is what? I rather enjoyed the game.”
You never grew beyond the game. “So, did I, when I was twenty. I find it tedious now.”
For a moment, they seemed to arrive at an impasse.
His father broke the silence. “You will marry in the next year, Edward.”
“And if I don’t marry? What will you do? Disinherit me?” From the standpoint of his sexual exploits, that might be a blessing. “There’s still Uncle Matthew and Darren,” he pointed out.
“Lenvian law allows me to arrange a marriage for you, if you refuse to wed. Like her or not, you choose someone...or I do it for you.”
His heart stuttered at the idea of an arranged marriage. His mind raced, searching for some way to find what he sought. “A series of Grande Balls,” Edward suggested. “Bride Balls.”
Benjamin raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You’re saying?”
“It will be done my way,” he insisted.
“If it results in a bride, your search can be conducted in any manner you wish, Edward.”
“I have your word on that?” he asked.
“You have it.”
Chapter One
Amber turned from the table, wiping flour dust from her hands onto her apron as she marched smartly to the door. The knock came again, just as she reached for the handle, an impatient demand for attention. She opened it, staring at the man standing outside.
He was impeccably presented, a dark suit that suggested a professional man or a mid-level noble. He offered a slight bow of his dark head to her. “Lady Reanne of Oakmarch?” he asked.
“My grandmother,” she offered with a similar bow for courtesy.
“Is she about? I must speak with her.”
“Mr...?” Did he honestly believe she would admit him that simply, without even a name to explain himself?
“Lewis Elmstead.” He pulled a fold of parchment from his inner coat pocket, bearing the prince’s seal. “If you please?”
Amber nodded, all but stumbling out of his way and waving him inside. It wasn’t often that someone bearing a royal seal graced their home; for her Nana’s sake, Amber had to be perfect in her service. She closed the door behind him, then led the way up the stairs and toward her grandmother’s rooms with a whispered word of welcome for him.
Nana’s parlor was open, as it nearly always was. Amber motioned to the prince’s emissary to wait and strode inside.
“Nana? Have you time for company?” she inquired, hoping it was appropriate to ask such a thing when it was a guest of this importance.
Nana’s beautiful blue eyes met hers, her smile making the creases in her ancient face deeper. “Ah, my Amber. Is it time for tea already?”
“Not quite, Nana. A royal representative needs to see you.” Her mind spun. How did one see to the comforts of someone of this status? It had been so long, and Mora had been hovering the last time... Tea! Of course. “But I will bring tea and fresh bread with jam.”
Nana looked up at last, glanced toward the open doorway, then nodded with a grim smile. “Show him in on your way, dear.”
“Yes, Nana. As you wish.” It was a relief to know she’d offered the right response.
She went back to the hall, offering a smile that felt strained to the emissary. “Lemon or milk, sir?” she asked.
“Milk.” He motioned to the parlor. “If I may,” he hinted.
Her face burned in embarrassment. “Of course.” Amber stepped back into the room. “Nana, may I present Mr. Lewis Elmstead?” She hurried away to the kitchen before further pleasantries were exchanged.
Heating the water and steeping the tea didn’t take long. In short order, she had Nana’s finest stoneware set on a tray and headed up the stairs with it.
The murmur of voices announced that the two were in earnest discussion about something. Amber breezed into the room and set the tray on the serving table as quietly as she could. A servant should always be inconspicuous.
“So, there are three young ladies in the household?” Elmstead asked, making note of it in a small leather-bound book.
“Indeed, there are,” Nana replied.
“Sugar, sir?” Amber asked, seizing what seemed the ideal moment to interrupt.
He didn’t look up from his work, ignoring her as most of the higher classes would. “No, thank you. Just milk, if you please.”
“Marmalade or elderberry?”
His pen stopped moving. “Pardon?”
“On your bread, sir? Do you prefer marmalade or elderberry?”
“Elderberry, thank you.” He went back to his work, addressing Nana. “And all three will attend?”
Amber spread elderberry jam on two thick slices of warm bread and mixed sugar into Nana’s cup of tea.
“I should say so,” Nana replied, as if it was an offense that the man had asked her such a question.
That voice nearly stopped Amber cold. It was haughty, something Nana was not known to be. It was as if she’d suddenly taken lessons from Mora.
She moved on, delivering the cups and plates wordlessly. Not wanting to intrude further, Amber headed for the door.
“Amber, dear,” Nana called out. “Sit. This concerns you.”
She came to stand before them.
“Sit,” Nana ordered again.
“But my dress is covered in flour.”
“And it will brush off. Sit.”
Amber nodded, settling in her father’s old chair.
“Their names?” Elmstead requested.
“This is my granddaughter, Amber of Oakmarch. The others are Ladies Marquita and Kambry Montberry.”
“Daughters of the Duke, I presume,” he intoned.
“On his first wife, Lady Mora. My son married her shortly after the Duke’s mistress presented him with his son, and he took her to wife to secure the child.”
“Your son was Lady Amber’s father?” he pressed.
Amber darkened. She wasn’t a titled lady, a fact that Mora never let her forget. Still, it would be rude to correct the gentleman.
“He was. My late husband was of the old leanings, though.”
Elmstead scratched at something in the book, most likely the title he’d assigned her in error. She knew her face was crimson and she ached to escape the conversation before the emissary announced she wasn’t welcome at whatever function they were discussing. But Nana had ordered her to stay. She had to sit quietly and hear his condemnation, no matter how much it galled her to do so.
“Your son had no heirs?”
“No. Xandra, Amber’s mother, died trying to bring forth his son. It is a shame that my husband still lived, then.”
He looked up, his expression curious. “You would have sanctioned the match?”
“Of course. Xandra was a lovely and gracious woman. She and Marcus were quite in love. But she was lowborn, and Nathaniel wouldn’t allow Marcus to marry her, unless Xandra produced a son for him.”
“But he did allow his son’s illegitimate child to stay,” he noted.
Amber bristled at that, clenching her teeth to silence her protest that a mistress’s child is not illegitimate. She wasn’t heir, but no woman truly was. She had no title, nor did she want one. She was hardly the result of some tavern fling. Her father had always declared her openly and with pride.
“Marcus had the right to any offspring he’d openly claimed. Even Nathaniel couldn’t argue that.”
“Of course.” Elmstead dismissed the discussion that quickly.
He’s dismissed me.
He continued, oblivious to her anger. “The three, then. They must bring an escort, as you know.”