Landon was no liar; if she decided to change her decision, he’d most likely ensure the blame fell upon him. She opened her hand and peered at the ring. Exquisite pink gems surrounded her birthstone.
Willa peeked her head in. “Is something the matter?”
She needed a moment to think—alone. Clutching the ring tight in her hand, she shifted her skirts about. “I can’t come out, there’s a tear in the side of my gown.” The lie rolled off her tongue, and she immediately regretted it.
“Not to worry. I’ll fetch you a coat.” Willa disappeared.
For the first time since Landon’s initial proposal, Bronwyn believed that the decision to marry was solely hers. Previously she had amassed arguments for and against marrying a titled gentleman who happened to also be a PORF. This time, she swiftly ran through the advantages and disadvantages of marrying Landon, the version of the man she’d come to know during their journey.
A great coat appeared in the doorway. Bronwyn’s hand trembled as she slipped the ring onto her finger—a perfect fit. With a burst of warmth in her heart, Bronwyn rose and exited the coach. Feet on the ground, and the coat was wrapped about her shoulders. Landon’s scent tickled her nose.
In a teasing tone, her betrothed said, “Last chance to change your mind.”
She linked her arm through his and rested her hand upon his forearm. Bronwyn tapped her finger and was pleased to see Landon’s dimple appear as he caught sight of the ring. She grinned and said, “You shall be stuck with me for life.”
“Wonderful.” He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss before all and sundry. “The innkeeper is ready whenever you are.”
Willa nervously stood in front of them, blocking their way. “My lord. Bronwyn—” Willa shook her head at her mistake and then continued, “I mean my mistress is not yet ready. Emma will kill me if Bronwyn doesn’t wear the bridal gown that she labored on all night.”
It was going to take some time for Willa, like herself, to adjust to their new positions, but together they would muddle through.
Landon smiled, but his devilish dimple failed to appear. “We wouldn’t want to cause Emma upset now, would we? I shall wait.”
Hauled into the cozy inn, which appeared to be connected to a blacksmith shop, Bronwyn gave into Willa’s every demand. Her friend, now maid, tugged, pulled and pushed every strand upon her head until her scalp ached.
Bronwyn exhaled the last particle of air that remained in her lungs as Willa tied her stays strings tight. “I suppose I’ll have to address you as Peyton after I’m married.”
“And I shall refer to you as my lady.”
Bronwyn raised her hand and stuck out her little finger in the air. “Only in the company of others?”
Willa shook her head. “We’ve been friends ever since we were children, and we shall always remain friends. I’m honored you chose me, but if I’m to succeed, I need you to become the lady I know you are.”
Blast! Why did Willa have to always speak the truth? Bronwyn should have known there would be drawbacks to having a trusted friend as a maid. Willa was right. By day’s end, she would become Countess Hadfield, and she had best learn to behave like a lady and quickly. First, she’d start by thinking and referring to her friend as Peyton.
Peyton bent down and removed a simple white gown with an intricate white lace overlay from one of her traveling trunks.
Bronwyn gaped at the dress. Emma’s creation was splendid.
Peyton held up the dress to her body and spun. “It’s the adult version of the white shift we used to wear when play-acting as children.”
“Aye, except it was Emma who always wore the dress, and I wore breeches.”
They both giggled as Peyton assisted Bronwyn into the dress.
As each button slipped into place, Bronwyn’s anxiety increased. What if she made a hash of their wedding night?
“Peyton.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Do you know how consummation occurs?”
Her friend blushed bright red. “Ah. Didn’t your mum explain?”
“We didn’t have time to discuss much of anything before I left. And you know how tough it is to obtain privacy in my house.”
Peyton’s brow creased. “Remember the time we saw the horses playing in the meadow?”
“Aye. But that’s not what I’m inquiring about. I understand what must go where and such. What I want to know is how am I to please him. He needs me to produce an heir.” Bronwyn began to pace as she continued with her concerns. “I’m well aware that it might require the act to be repeated. How do I ensure he’ll want to…well, you know.”
Hands-on her hips, Peyton asked, “Why do you believe I’d know the answer?”
“You have five older brothers. Both you and Emma have had a series of beaus while I’ve had none. Plus, you’re my maid, and so you are supposed to have all the answers.”
A burst of laughter escaped Peyton, and she bent at the waist. “I’ve been your maid for less than a week. My brothers are useless sources of information. Besides a few stolen kisses, I’ve not a clue as to what occurs between husband and wife. However, I am determined to be an excellent maid. While you get hitched, I’ll make inquires and report back when you return.”
“I knew I could count on you. I’d never have been able to ask anyone else about such matters.”
Peyton gave her a hug. “I’ll always be here for you.”
“And I for you.” Bronwyn pulled back to ask, “Now that you are part of the Hadfield staff, do you think your brothers will be less likely to scare off possible suitors?”
“Not likely. Regardless of our new positions, or the new world we will be thrust in, the Network will always protect and shelter us.” Peyton turned her about to face the door. “If I were to find someone mad enough to marry me willingly, the poor sod would still have to seek out my dad and brothers’ approvals, and if he wasn’t already a member of the Network, he’d have to seek out permission from the elders.”
Midstride, Bronwyn swiveled to face Peyton. The elders were a protective bunch. Had Landon sought out permission from the elders? He needn’t have. Peyton’s chuckles broke her train of thought.
With a knowing smile, Peyton said, “Lord Hadfield didn’t have to seek anyone’s approval. As head of the PORFs, the man can do as he pleases. But I heard he did meet with your dad and the Network elders and was given a good roasting. Only after a long night of negotiations did they give him their approval to marry you.”
“He did that all for me?”
“My lady, I believe Lord Hadfield is smitten with you. He gave into nearly every demand the elders made in order to have you as his wife.”
Bronwyn shook her head. Why would Landon do such a thing?
Her maid brushed the back of her finger over the top of her cheekbone. “You are worthy of his love.”
Was she?
Chapter Ten
Tired of pacing in his room, Landon ventured downstairs.
Addair approached, eyeing Landon’s traveling desk. “Lord Hadfield, allow me to escort you to the private parlor.”
“My thanks, Mr. Addair, but I’d prefer to be seated where I may promptly greet my bride as soon as she descends.”
The innkeeper shooed patrons from a trestle table that would afford Landon a clear view of the stairs. “Here ye go, Lord Hadfield.”
Landon slid onto the bench, flipping his tailcoat out. With practiced movements, he arranged his writing equipment and sheets of parchment. During the last two years, Landon had spent more time traveling by coach than he ever had in his life. Traveling between London, the two crumbling country estates he’d inherited, and the Continent to locate the rondure, Landon had seen more of the world than he ever expected to. He’d been pleased with his lot in life before inheriting the Hadfield title from Theo’s papa. However, the idea of scurrying between his office and court no longer held the appeal it once did. His uncle had left the Hadfield estate in near ruin, but the challenge of re
filling the family coffers and learning the generations-old duty as a PORF opened Landon’s eyes to a life he’d not known—one he now relished.
“If there’s nothin’ else ye need, my lord, I’m off to check to make sure everything is readied.” Bronwyn had requested Addair, a longtime member of the Network, conduct the ceremony rather than the local blacksmith.
Landon absent-mindedly nodded as he began to draft a reply to Archbroke. Having recently attended a series of weddings, Landon was unperturbed by what was to occur next. Granted, none of them were a handfasting or conducted over an anvil, but how different could it really be?
Letter in hand, he looked up when a shadow fell over the table.
Bronwyn. Dressed in a stunning white gown that was obviously designed for her and only her. It fitted snugly across the chest with an intricate lace overlay. Squinting, he made out little harped angels woven into the material—the symbol used by the Network. She smiled down at him.
She boldly approached with her hands clasped behind her back. Mere inches away, she said, “I see you’re busy. Should I return to my room and wait?”
Landon quickly stood up. His head swam. “No. No. I wasn’t sure how long you would be. Nerves were getting the better of me, so I decided to take care of a few matters while I waited.”
He scanned the room, which was completely empty. Jacobs was to alert him when Bronwyn had left her room. Where was his valet?
Landon’s fear she would change her mind at the last minute faded as Bronwyn’s lips curved into a smile. He fumbled the first button of his coat as his wife-to-be ran her top teeth over her bottom lip. Lips that would be forever his after this day. As each button slipped into place, Landon’s apprehension of departing this world early eased. In marrying Bronwyn, he would secure the future of the PORFs and establish a critical link to the Network.
He stepped out over the bench to stand beside Bronwyn. “Shall we find Jacobs and Peyton?”
“They are already waiting for us, along with Mr. Addair.”
“Where?”
“I believe we are to meet Mr. Addair at the smithy.”
Damnation. He should have requested more specifics from Addair. Holding in a deep sigh, he winged his arm for his fiancée. Bronwyn placed her hand on his arm, and together they walked out of the inn and into a surprisingly fine sunny day.
His heart skipped a beat at Bronwyn’s relaxed and poised features. He’d imagined her while he was busy adjusting to his new responsibilities, but fantasies failed to measure up to the woman standing beside him. Bronwyn peered up through her eyelashes, catching him gawking at her décolleté. Her cheeks flushed pink, but she flashed a lopsided smirk before she bowed her head.
As he placed his hand over Bronwyn’s upon his arm, warmth seeped through his veins. Worries about her willingness to marry drifted away on the soft breeze that tickled the back of his neck. He’d been so busy admiring Bronwyn they were already midway across the open thoroughfare before his footsteps faltered. He had failed to mention how lovely she was or share how lucky he deemed himself to have her as wife.
Bronwyn’s head swiveled to take in their surroundings. There was an undercurrent of energy. Landon tensed. Past the stables and the coaching house, a large crowd had gathered around the anvil.
Instead of complimenting Bronwyn, Landon’s thoughts tumbled out in a grumble. “We only need two witnesses, not the entire town.”
“I’d wager most are not locals. Some may have traveled a fair distance, at their own expense mind you, to witness our wedding. It’s a rare opportunity for the likes of them to attend an auspicious event such as this.”
Had this been part of Bronwyn’s plan to allow members of the Network an opportunity to partake in the celebrations? When he assumed the role of head PORF, Landon had set out to find a way to bridge the gap between PORFs and those who served them. Initially, he’d believed it a stroke of good luck that he’d proposed to a valued member of the Network, but in hindsight, it wasn’t luck. It was fate.
The crowd parted to make way for them to pass. A murmur of oohs and ahhs rose in a gentle wave as Bronwyn walked past. His chest puffed out with pride. He was a fortunate man, indeed.
Mr. Addair spotted them approaching and rushed up. “My lord, please follow me.”
Dutifully following the innkeeper, he and Bronwyn smiled at the onlookers.
They stopped in front of an anvil housed at the back of the smithy, under a partial roof, and next to a hot stove.
Mr. Addair waved Peyton and Jacobs closer. Once they stood next to Bronwyn, Mr. Addair grabbed a long walking stick and dragged it to etch a circle in the ground with Bronwyn and Landon in the center. Once the two ends met, he outlined a winding pattern of laurel leaves. Handing the stick off to a bystander, Mr. Addair asked, “Are you ready to begin?”
Bronwyn nodded, and Landon replied, “Aye.”
Peyton handed the innkeeper a strip of white silk that matched Bronwyn’s dress, and Jacobs provided one of Landon’s black cravats.
Knotting the two pieces of material together, Mr. Addair began the handfasting ceremony. “Greetings to one and all. We are here today to see Landon Neale, Earl of Hadfield, and Miss Bronwyn Cadby, join hands and be bound together by their love, now and forever.”
Mr. Addair took Landon’s left hand and Bronwyn’s right as they stood side by side, facing the anvil. Interlocking their arms, Mr. Addair placed their palms flat together and began to wind the black and white material. First, about Landon’s wrist and then around Bronwyn’s, creating an intricate knotted design. Bronwyn was bound to him, as securely as the knot that connected their wrists. And unlike all the duties and responsibilities that bound him as PORF, this knot did not feel like restriction, but freedom.
Tucking the ends of the material, Mr. Addair patted their joined hands. “Do you, Landon Neale, take Bronwyn Cadby as wife?”
“I do.”
Mr. Addair nodded, “Do you, Bronwyn Cadby, take his lordship, Landon Neale as husband?”
Landon held in a breath—turned and waited for Bronwyn’s response.
Solemnly she answered, “I do.”
Every muscle in his body relaxed. By Scottish law, they were wed. A declaration that they each wished to wed, in front of two witnesses, was all that was required. Originally, marrying and siring an heir had merely been another task to attend to. Rolling his eyes heavenward, he sent up a prayer of thanks for the precious gift he had received in Bronwyn. He committed to loving her for, however many days he had left. Cherishing and bedding her would be a blessing and not a burden.
Instead of dismissing everyone, Mr. Addair held out his hand, and his wife, who had stood slightly behind the man, placed two rings upon his palm. The innkeeper scanned the crowd. “These rings have no beginning and no end. Like the circle around us, each wedding band is an infinite thing—never changing yet always adaptable.” He spoke in a clear voice that carried over the assembled audience. Mr. Addair slid a solid gold band onto Landon’s ring finger. “True love itself is infinite. It knows no boundaries or restrictions.”
Taking Bronwyn’s left hand, Mr. Addair slid a thinner version of Landon’s ring onto her ring finger. “Love flourishes and grows with time. Love cannot be forced and cannot be taken away. It is a gift you give to one another without demands.”
Landon stared down at his wife. He’d caught a flicker of unease in her eyes as Mr. Addair finished his speech. The innkeeper had used the word love. While he was reasonably sure he was in love with Bronwyn, he had yet to say the words. Tonight, he’d tell her.
Peyton touched their bound hands. “My congratulations to you both.”
Jacobs stepped forward next. “Best wishes, my lord, my lady.”
Mr. Addair clapped his hands. “It is done. May I present to you all, the Earl and Countess of Hadfield.”
A round of cheers came from the crowd. Bright smiles all around. They had come to witness the union of one of their own to a PORF, and none was more pleased than
Landon himself.
Chapter Eleven
Countess of Hadfield. Bronwyn pinched herself as she repeated her new identity. Instead of rollicking nerves and questions over what her future now entailed, Bronwyn's thoughts were solely focused on the consummation. Bound hand-in-hand to Landon, she entered the empty inn with Peyton and Jacobs behind them.
She nearly lost her balance as Landon came to a stop and turned to address the staff. “We won’t be needing your services this eve.” Her husband continued up the stairs to their chamber for the evening, leaving her no choice to follow. It also eliminated all chance of Peyton sharing any information she’d obtained on how Bronwyn should please Landon. Her bound hand began to sweat. How were they to have marital relations with their hands tied? She hated feeling unprepared. Their interludes in the coach had all centered around her pleasure. Even a ninny could deduce that there was more to the intimate act of consummating their marriage.
She turned slightly sideways to face Landon, in order to go up the narrow staircase. Her heart thudded harder against her ribs with each step they took.
Landon bent at the waist, causing her to hunch over too. Mirroring his movements invoked a sense of closeness. He slipped his free arm under her knees and lifted her, squeezing them through the tight doorway. In opposition to her natural tendency to seek out distance, Bronwyn straightened her back and wrapped her arm about his neck, bringing them even closer. Secure in his arms, Bronwyn rested her head against her husband’s shoulder and closed her eyes. All her life, she had been bound by constraints to serve PORFs, and now she was one herself. While she didn’t doubt that being a countess would have its own challenges, held in Landon’s strong arms she found the freedom to simply be. None of her reactions to her husband were consistent.
Still cradling her in his arms, he sat on the bed. “I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want to tread upon your toes, trying to enter through thw blasted door.”
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