Page 15 of Revealing a Rogue
Apparently satisfied by his response, Emma led Theo through a doorway and disappeared.
What had he done? How was he to aid Bronwyn in her discovery of self-worth when he hadn’t managed to find his own? Two years of turmoil had him questioning his capabilities and, at times, wishing he’d never inherited the damn earldom and the PORF family legacy.
Brow furrowed, he went to the store window and watched as footmen loaded one trunk after another onto the carriage. Not once since receiving the mark had he needed to see to the finer points of his travel plans. The Network worked like a well-oiled machine; everyone worked in unison for one purpose, ensuring the PORFs had every necessary resource to do their duties. He reached into his pocket, and his fingers grazed the edge of the rondure that symbolized his responsibility to the other PORFs and the entire Network. Every day he questioned whether or not he was worthy of holding such a position. Perhaps he and Bronwyn had more in common than he initially surmised. A warmth spread through his chest—yes, he had chosen wisely. All he had to do was convince his bride to be.
Chapter Seven
Lying on her side, snuggled under her covers precariously close to the edge of the bed, Bronwyn waited for the sound of her mum padding down the hall to start the day. Her mum was always the first to wake and the last to bed. Most of the night, Bronwyn’s mind was awhirl and sleep eluded her. Never having had a reason to become acquainted with any ladies of the ton, her knowledge of their customs was purely second hand and restricted to those within the Network who served in PORF households. The fashionable ladies would never deem her suitable to attend their afternoon teas.
Irritated with her train of thought, Bronwyn shifted. Her sister’s knobby knee poked her in the middle of her back. What would it be like to sleep without three other warm bodies in the bed? She’d shared a bed with her sisters all her life. The thought of sleeping as titled ladies were reported to do, alone and vulnerable, sent shivers down Bronwyn’s spine. Her husband would sleep behind a closed connecting door instead of next to her. How very remote. Her parents never slept apart even when her mum was irate at her dad. In less than a week, Lord Hadfield would be her husband. Not Landon Neale, the dashing barrister she once worked alongside, who caused her pulse to race as he rattled off case law, but an earl who secretly served the Crown. Bronwyn tugged the sheets up to her chin. Her mind continued to spin. Of all the women in London, why had Landon chosen her?
The chamber door softly creaked open. Barely opening her eyes, Bronwyn feigned sleep. Her mum snuck into the room with the most stunning traveling gown she had ever seen. Emma was indeed the most talented seamstress in town. Having never worn such elegant attire, Bronwyn clutched at the sheets. She wasn’t ready. This wasn’t the future she had envisioned.
Her mum leaned down and brushed back the hair from her face. “Love. It’s time.”
“I don’t want to go. He’s made a mistake in asking me.”
“Hush. Lord Hadfield knows what he’s about.” Her mum placed a kiss upon her temple. “Your dad and I are very proud of ye.”
She wasn’t a youngling. She was five and twenty—plenty old enough not to need her ma’s coddling. Bronwyn slipped her feet out of the covers onto the cold wood floor, padded over to the corner, and leaned over the washbasin. The cold water upon her face fortified her spirits. She had never failed to be a fully contributing member of her family or the Network, and she wasn’t about to start.
Sally, her youngest sibling, scrambled from the bed. “Mum, can I go with Bronwyn and be her lady’s maid?”
“Git back into bed. It’s way too early for ye to be up. There are three qualified maids awaiting Bronwyn downstairs.”
Bronwyn wiped her face with a clean linen. “Who’s down below?”
“Little Tilman, young Carrington, and Willa Peyton. You must select one of them to accompany ye. They will travel along with Lord Hadfield’s valet.”
All of the girls her mum mentioned were close to Bronwyn in age. The glaring reality of the situation had her mind reeling. She could have been selected to apply for the position of lady’s maid and bodyguard to Landon’s wife. Instead, she was to be his wife. She wasn’t any better than the three girls below. Was it pure happenstance?
Bronwyn considered her options. Tilman and Carrington’s older sisters served Lady Grace and Lady Lucy. Both would have excellent insight into being a lady’s maid. They would also easily identify Bronwyn’s shortcomings and missteps. She didn’t want her non-ladylike behavior shared with other households, plus Bronwyn considered Willa a friend. Willa was mature, trustworthy, and had a solid head upon her shoulders. It would also elevate Willa’s family within the Network if she served the head PORF’s wife.
With a decisive nod, Bronwyn said, “Willa is my choice.”
Her mum’s smile was that of pure pride. “I shall go fetch her now.” Embracing Bronwyn in a quick hug, her mum added, “A fine decision, and the first of many to come.”
* * *
An hour later,Bronwyn stepped out her front door to face her fiancé. Landon straightened away from the large, crested traveling coach but remained loose-limbed as he revealed bright white teeth and his irresistible dimple. The vehicle was impressive but not in comparison to the man standing next to it. Dressed in a dark blue waistcoat, pristine white lawn shirt, tan breeches, and a conservatively tied cravat, Landon was dashing, to say the least. The man was totally at ease and eager to begin their journey—the stark opposite of Bronwyn, who was a bundle of nerves and reservations.
Bronwyn curtsied. “I apologize for the delay, my lord.”
“No need to apologize. Theo and my mama have me well trained in the art of waiting on a lady.” The corner of his lips shifted, highlighting his roguish dimple. Sweeping a hand in the direction of the coach, he said, “I think it best if you call me Landon, don’t you?”
Bronwyn stared at the charming, relaxed man before her. Who was he? She was accustomed to the no-nonsense, matter-of-fact Landon. Bronwyn inhaled sharply as the realization that her request to travel to Scotland, born from her desire to become better acquainted with her betrothed, placed her in extremely close quarters with the man whose smile turned her knees weak and elevated her body temperature to uncomfortable levels.
Landon entered the coach close behind her. It was physically impossible to feel the heat of him through the many layers of clothing she had donned this morn, but her cheeks were flushed, and her entire body was overheated. Bronwyn adjusted her skirts as she sat upon the plush, forward-facing seat. She inhaled sharply as she took in the well-padded bench across from her, the interior lights, and the fine material covering the windows. This was no hackney.
Landon searched her features as he settled onto the rear-facing seat. “Is anything the matter?”
“No. It’s just Emma fashioned the traveling gown out of heavy velvet. I’m unaccustomed to such warmth.”
“I can wait if you care to change. We have a long day of travel ahead of us. It’s best you are comfortable.”
“Oh, no. I promise I won’t be bothersome.”
Landon’s brows snapped into a frown. “When I alter my decisions, do you find mebothersome?”
