Her mother-in-law donned a motherly look and said, “You are wrong. There is no one more deserving or better suited than you, but until you believe it yourself, there is no reason for you to stay.” Engulfed in a hug, Bronwyn hugged her mother-in-law back.
She withdrew and said, “Thank you for your help.”
Dowager Hadfield shook her head and stepped back into her room. Sad eyes peered back at Bronwyn until the door click closed.
With no time to waste, Bronwyn ran to her rooms and ordered Peyton to pack a valise. It was a solid two-day journey back to London. A Network inn was close by. She’d stay the night there and travel home with the first rays of daylight on the morrow.
She hastily swiped a tear from her cheek. Landon needed a woman who was bold and brilliant like Lady Lucy. Not a wife who behaved like a peagoose in front of his closest friends despite days of etiquette lessons. Bronwyn led her maid through the secret passageways to the back door.
As ordered, the coach was readied and waiting.
The driver asked, “Where to my lady?”
With one foot on the coach steps, Bronwyn answered, “The Lone Dove.”
Chapter Twenty-One
For the tenth time since his wife left the room, Landon considered Bronwyn’s empty seat. Two courses later, he poked the langoustine drizzled in lemon garlic butter with his fork. It was a delicacy he’d hoped Bronwyn would find appetizing.
Seated next to him, Lady Grace raised a napkin to her mouth. “I heard rumors of you leaving town to marry, but I didn’t believe them until our earlier encounter. What is Countess Hadfield’s name?”
“Lady Bronwyn.” His heart sank as he considered her still vacant seat. “I had intended to make the official announcement this eve.”
The slight widening of Lady Grace’s eyes confirmed he had managed to shock the woman. A grand feat in itself, but he was of no mind to savor the moment. He needed to escape Prinny’s company and hunt down his wife.
“Congratulations.” Lady Grace returned her napkin to her lap and turned her attention back to her plate. “Where is she now?”
He had no clue. Initially, Landon had assumed Bronwyn had left to use the necessary and would return, but Theo’s nervous glances at the door had him suspicious of her prolonged absence.
“Do you need my assistance?” Lady Grace asked.
Landon wasn’t confident what action, if any, he should take. “Not at this time.” His nightly efforts to convince Bronwyn she should ignore society dictates and act as she pleased had highlighted for him some of his own hypocrisies. Last night, Bronwyn declared she’d no longer wanted to continue her lessons with his mama, Theo, and Mary. At first, he was overjoyed at the news, but when he questioned her, he discovered Bronwyn’s reasoning was due to her distaste for seeking out the help of others and not because she was confident in her abilities. Landon's chest ached with failure. He too despised asking for assistance, but if he was to act, he’d need the help of his cousin, Archbroke.
He turned to face the man who was more like a brother than merely a cousin-by-marriage. Archbroke’s features were strained. Prinny’s decision to cut his hunting trip short and join the house party to voice his disapproval of the mounting tension between the hereditary and life peers was not well received by anyone, least of all Archbroke.
Archbroke wagged an eyebrow and said, “Go. I’ll entertain our esteemed guest.”
With stealth learned from his dear cousin, Landon quietly rose and slipped away from the table.
Prinny continued to regale the company with tales of his hunting prowess. “And wouldn’t you know, the red-furred beast scurried right in front of me.” England was doomed. The man hadn’t managed to ensnare a fox twenty feet away from him.
Landon spotted the footman Theo had assigned to his wife walking toward him. When the man noticed him approaching, he swiveled away. Unlike the Prince Regent, Landon was not about to let his prey evade him.
“Stop,” Landon commanded. The footman froze.
At the sound of rustling silk behind him, Landon stiffened. Holding his breath, he peered over his shoulder, hoping to see his wife. But it wasn’t Bronwyn; it was his mama.
Landon said, “Stay where you are.”
His mama stopped in her tracks.
“Not you, mama. I was speaking to the footman.”
“But you were looking at me.”
Landon sighed. After having slept little the night prior, he had exhausted all the patience he had in reserve. “Have you seen my wife?”
“I have.”
“Did she eat something that did not agree with her?” He turned and demanded, “Where is she?”
His mama came to stand directly in front of him. “I beg you to remember I’m the one who endured ten hours of labor to bring you into this world.”
“Mama, please…”
“I’m merely the messenger. Bronwyn bid me to tell you that while she loves you, she believes it was a mistake for the two of you to marry, and she has set off to arrange an annulment.”
“An annulment!” Landon roared. Impossible. They were well and truly married, and there was no way a judge would grant her a divorce. Rarely did he let this anger surface, but this… this was too much. “Why did you not stop her? Talk sense into her.”
“My boy, by now, I’d hoped you’d have learned that you simply can’t tell someone what to believe. They…”
Landon finished the familiar advice. “They have to form their own opinions.”
His wise mama wrapped her arms about his waist, and he rested his chin on the top of her head. Leaning back, his mama said, “Bronwyn doesn’t deem herself worthy. I know you, Theo, and Mary have all tried in your own unique ways to assist her and attempted to make her see the fine qualities we know she possesses. But Bronwyn has yet to realize her own strengths. You, my dear boy, will need to employ two of your own greatest traits—patience and understanding.”
Before inheriting the litany of responsibilities from his uncle, Landon wouldn’t have agreed with his mama that those were his finer qualities. It was from his mama that he learned the art of patience.
She blessed him with one of her understanding smiles. “Do you remember when you were little and you would stomp inside, winded after racing about the estate with your cousin Baldwin?”
“Why, of course, I do. While Baldwin was able to jump and run about, I was left heaving air as if it was my last breath. It was terribly frustrating.”
“And what did I tell you?”
“Play at your own pace, not others. I fail to see how that is of use to me now.”
“You are not your papa. I believe your impetus to marry was out of fear. Stop pushing so hard. You chose wisely, but you gave Bronwyn no forewarning.”
His mama was right as usual. “What am I to do?”
She patted his arm. “Give her time. She loves you. I have no qualms about that.”
“How can you be so certain? She’s gone and left me.”
His mama raised her hand to cup his cheek. “In the few days I’ve spent with my daughter-in-law, there is one thing I know about her: she is fiercely independent. If she didn’t love you, she’d never be willing to ask for assistance. Bronwyn needs to figure out who it is she truly wishes to be for herself. Not for her parents. Not for the good of the Network. Not even for you. The only way for her to achieve that is for Bronwyn to love and believe in herself.” She gave him a pat on the cheek and stood back to stare at him.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me if I truly love Bronwyn, I’ll not hunt her down.”
“No, silly boy, have you not been listening? I said give her time. Never did I say anything about space. You are her husband. It is your duty to protect her, even from herself.”
Damn women and their riddles. Landon ran his hand through his hair and kneaded the muscles in the back of his neck. It was the second time that day a woman had accused him of not listening. “What exactly do you suggest I do?”
“First,
we are going back to the dining room. Second, you will simultaneously announce that you are wed while apologizing for Bronwyn’s inability to return due to illness. Third, you will sit and endure Prinny’s ramblings. Lastly, I will speak with Theo and arrange for your departure first thing in the morn.”
Most people would describe his mama as quiet and meek. But in fact, she was Wellington’s equal if not superior when it came to leading her family.
Landon leaned in for one more reassuring hug before winging his arm. He turned to address the footman who was busy eyeing the ceiling. “Larry, once we reach the dining room, please do the honor of escorting my mama to Bronwyn’s seat.”
The trio marched down the hall. A hush descended as they entered the dining room.
Landon walked to stand next to Archbroke, who garnered everyone’s attention by clinking his fork against his glass.
Clearing his throat, Landon stood tall and said, “Unfortunately, most of you will not be granted the pleasure of my wife’s company tonight as she has fallen ill. I anticipate a quick recovery, and we shall extend invitations upon our return to town.”
Per his mama’s instructions, he was to endure the rest of the evening. However, he was always a defiant child pushing boundaries. “I bid you all a good eve.” With a decisive nod, he left the room. He didn’t need his mama to arrange his departure plans. At four-and-thirty, he was quite capable of making the arrangements himself.
His chest constricted as he marched down the hall to his chamber. He needed Bronwyn - without her, his breathing became labored. With his hand on the latch of the door, Landon paused as he recited his plan. Locate his errant wife, ensure her safety, and exercise patience. It was a sound plan, and he was more than capable of enduring any anxiety he might experience while he waited for Bronwyn to learn to love herself as much as he loved her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A silver button flew through the air and hit Bronwyn on the top of her shoulder.
“Ow.” She rubbed her upper arm and glared at her best friend. Emma’s dart-throwing skills meant she was extremely accurate and never missed her intended target. The metal button would leave a mark. Typical Emma. Her friend lived by the adage actions speak louder than words. Bronwyn sighed. Emma was right. It was time for Bronwyn to seek out her dad and receive the mark of a PORF.
“Will ye stop yer day dreamin’ and help me out.” Emma huffed, and a bolt of shimmering silver material landed on the cutting table before Bronwyn.
Bronwyn winced as she stretched out her arm to reach for the edge of the material. She had arrived back in town three days ago. Her first day back, Emma allowed her to remain abed and weep. But on the second, before the first rays of light hit the ground, Emma had hauled Bronwyn out of bed and set her to work sorting buttons. It had taken three hours of monotonous labor and soul searching for Bronwyn to admit she didn’t want an annulment. At a loss for what action to take next, Bronwyn had spent the rest of the day performing whatever mindless task Emma set for her.
Bronwyn unwound the material and aligned it against the yardstick. “What will you make out of this?”
“A gown, ye goose.” Emma stood back with the shears in her hand. “Wot are ye goin’ to do?”
“As soon as you’ve cut the silk loose, I’ll pin the pattern.”
“I’m not talkin’ about the blasted gown.” Emma shook her head. “Did gettin’ hitched make ye daft?”
Glaring at her best friend, Bronwyn retorted, “Who ye callin’ daft?” She was clearly at her wit's end, for her brash cockney accent had returned. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her thoughts and said, “You don’t understand. Landon needs…”
“Bronwyn Cadby Neale.” Emma snipped a slit into the material. “Ye can just stop yer blathering right now.” The sharp blades snapped together, punctuating Emma’s statement. “It’s been three days, and ye have yet to come to ye senses.” She ran the sharp shears down the material, slicing it away from the bolt. “I’ll tell ye, I’ve considered knocking ye over the head with the chamber pot a time or two, to see if it’ll help. But I think it better I use me words this time.” Emma stuck her shears into her apron and put her hands on her hips. “Me best friend is no coward. This time tell me the truth—why did ye leave Lord Archbroke’s estate in the middle of supper?”
Bronwyn blinked. She’d never mentioned to Emma the details of her departure. The blasted Network rumor mill was far too efficient. Grabbing the pattern that laid next to the table, she began pinning the translucent paper to the glorious silver silk. She wasn’t ready to admit the truth: she had run away like a peagoose.
Emma crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. “If ye won’t tell me, I’ll tell ye wot I think.”
Bronwyn pricked her finger as she mumbled, “I’m sure nothing will stop you either.”
“Ye are bleedin’, step away from me gown afore you ruin it.” Emma rounded the table and, with her hip bumped Bronwyn out of the way. “Ye’ve never been good at needlepoint, but ye are smart, hardworking, and generous. And I’ll tell ye, that’s wot Lord Hadfield needs.” Spinning the material around to affix the pattern to the other side, Emma paused and then added, “Wot do ye see in the mirror when ye look into one?”
Finally, a question Bronwyn was able to answer. “A woman with mouse brown hair, blue eyes, and of average looks.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “That’s not wot I see when I look at ye.”
“Oh, really. Don’t let me stop you. Pray tell, what do you see, Ms. Lennox?” The devil in Bronwyn spurred her to address her best friend by her formal name, knowing that Emma hated it.
“I see Countess Hadfield.”
Touché. No one but Emma could get the best of Bronwyn.
Bronwyn conceded. “I’m not like the ladies Landon considers worthy to call close friends. Theo is brilliant, Mary is unique, and Lady Lucy, well, all the blasted rumors of how delightful and daring she is are all well and true.” She leaned against the table and continued, “I’ll tell you who I used to see in the looking glass. A Network elder’s daughter, who wanted only to prove to everyone that she was worthy to succeed her dad and hold a seat at the council table.”
“Ye were always too smart for ye own good.” Placing the lid on the pins, Emma tugged Bronwyn over to the sitting area and plopped onto the settee. “Ye don’t think I too worry about the day I’m to take me mum’s place? That I don’t wonder if I’m worthy of sittin’ at the council table. I’m not smart like ye. I’m a darn seamstress. How do I know wot is best for the Network? But it is a great honor to represent one’s family, and I’ll muddle along. At least I’ll have ye there next to me. Wait, if ye are a PORF, will ye still be on the council? Oh Gawd, don’t say Harold will be sittin’ next to me instead.”
Bronwyn couldn’t contain her laughter at Emma’s appalled expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll be by your side at the council table—not representing the Cadby family but as a PORF.” Wrapping her arms about her best friend, Bronwyn said, “You are too clever by half, and you don’t even know it, Emma Lennox. I’ve been overthinking the matter. My heart belongs to one man, and I’m honored to be his wife. As for the rest, I’ll follow your lead and simply muddle through it all. And as long as I have your aid and support, all will be well.”
“Ye’re daft to ask. I support ye, not because I pledged an oath, but because ye are the most amazing lady I know.”
Bronwyn smiled and arched a brow. “Really? What of Theo or Mary or Lady Lucy or Lady Grace?”
With a pointed look, Emma replied, “I’ve seen all of them naked, inside and out. None of them are as perfect as ye believe them to be.” Emma tilted her head and grinned. “Hmm… I reckon they are more like ye than me, tough on the outside but pure mush on the inside.”
“And what are you?” Bronwyn teased.
“Aww… ye know, I’m hard on the outside and in. I’ve no time for love, which is wot turned all of ye ladies to mush.”
“Emma Lennox, you’re brilliant!”
Love had been Bronwyn’s downfall. Not her love for Landon, but her lack of respect and care for herself. She needed to be the best person she could be, not what she thought others required her to be. Squeezing Emma’s hand, Bronwyn said, “You know, the next time I see my reflection in a looking glass, I’ll be seeing an entirely different person.”
Peyton peeked out from the backroom and brought in a tray of tea and biscuits. She looked to Bronwyn and asked, “Should I go and prepare for our return home?”
“Aye.” Bronwyn reached for the teapot, but Emma grasped the handle first.
“I think Willa and I will enjoy a nice cup of tea while ye pay a visit to yer dad.” Emma poured two cups of tea and motioned for Peyton to join her. Glancing at Bronwyn, Emma said, “Make sure ye choose a spot that won’t interfere with me designs.”
Bronwyn rose and said, “Aye, Ms. Lennox. I’ll do just that.”
Peyton giggled. “She’s been practicing that hoity-toity voice those ladies use.”
“By Jove, I reckon Bronwyn’s managed to master it. Five shillings says she’ll master the rest.”
“I’ll not be givin’ you me hard-earned money.” Peyton raised her teacup to her lips with her little finger sticking straight out.
“I’m still standing here,” Bronwyn said.
Emma and Peyton clicked teacups and laughed. After a long moment, her best friend wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. “Give yer family me regards. And tell yer mum I’ll not miss Sunday dinner this week. Now that I’ve rid meself of me guests, I’ll be free again.”
Dismissed by Emma, Bronwyn stomped to the door. Once she received the mark, would Emma dare to treat her the same? Bronwyn certainly hoped so, for who else would ensure she had her head screwed on the right way? The bell tinkled as Bronwyn left Emma’s store. Intending to walk to her dad’s store, she startled when Larry appeared in front of her. The footman motioned to a coach, which bore the Archbroke crest.
Revealing a Rogue Page 14