Page 38 of Revealing a Rogue
Marching back and forth in Theo’s lavish bedchamber, temporarily reassigned to her, Bronwyn counted backward from one hundred to calm her nerves. Her ability to recall facts and dates rarely failed her but remembering to whom she had and had not been formally introduced to was daunting. As a member of the Network, she was expected to memorize the names and faces of those that interacted with PORFs for years. She prayed she wouldn’t get confused and inadvertently cut a member of the ton.
Fustian!
Stopping in front of a full-length looking glass, Bronwyn practiced what she hoped was a graceful ballroom curtsy since that was where she anticipated most of her introductions to occur. The slightest difference in how far she bent at the knee dictated if she performed the curtsy correctly or not. She’d never considered herself graceful. Her strides were purposeful and firm despite having practiced ad nauseum.
Under the tutelage of Mary, Theo, and her warm, loving mother-in-law, who had arrived two days prior, Bronwyn had managed to master the act of nodding. She’d never given thought to the speed or angle of her nods, but according to her mentors, that gesture could communicate displeasure, urgency, or pleasure all dependent upon the situation and execution. Despite her progress, Bronwyn was no more confident she would be accepted by Landon’s peers and their wives than when she began. No matter how many times Mary, Theo, or her mother-in-law reassured her she was ready, the niggling fear of being found lacking plagued Bronwyn.
In addition, Landon’s nightly reassurances she should behave as she pleased, and that everyone would simply fall in love with her as he had, didn’t ring true. Granted, it hadn’t taken her long to gain her cousin-by-marriage’s full support or Mary’s, but Mary was sworn by duty to assist her, and Theo never discriminated against anyone. She unconditionally gave her love and guidance to all.
The noise of houseguests out on the lawn wafted through the window. Guests had begun to arrive two days ago, but in a desperate play for time, Bronwyn had convinced Theo that it would be best she remained unseen, unannounced until the last guest arrived. She was still uncertain exactly how she had managed such a feat. When Landon learned of the plan, a heated debate ensued between the two cousins. They volleyed opinions at each other quicker than a blink. In the end, Theo ended all discussion by stating, “It’s your wife’s wish.”
When Landon looked to Bronwyn for confirmation, she had nodded. A flash of disappointment crossed his features, and then he announced, “Very well. We will introduce my wife to everyone on the evening the last guest arrives. We shall have a celebratory dinner.”
For the last two nights, Landon had joined her for supper. The first night, Landon discussed his investments with the other lords and sought her opinion on several matters that impacted the running of the Hadfield estate. On the second, he revealed his concerns over the shift in power within the Royal Court which could have significant impact on the Network. He didn’t badger her into agreeing with him. Instead, Landon always gave thanks for her views and informed her they were important to him. It gave her hope that she might become as valuable to him as her mum was to her dad. Regardless of the topics discussed over their meal, Landon ensured neither of them fell asleep until they were both delightfully sated and physically exhausted.
Peyton rushed into their chambers and pulled back the curtains, exposing bright rays of sunlight. “My lady. The Earl and Countess of Devonton will be arriving today. That means no more hiding!”
Bronwyn swirled away from the mirror and strode over to the window to catch a glimpse of the renowned Lady Lucy. But there was no sign of the Devonton coach.
Visualizing the guest list she had memorized, her palms began to sweat. The Network monitored the activities of many, and while Bronwyn was privy to the extensive reports, she’d never had reason to meet any of the individuals mentioned in them—until now.
Mary had provided entertaining commentary on each person and at least one distinct trait for each to assist Bronwyn in identifying them. However, she found it easier to recall details when she compartmentalized information. Bronwyn mentally grouped the guests into three categories: those associated with the Home Office, Foreign Office, and the Network. However, two couples didn’t fall neatly into a single category.
Matthew Stanford, Marquis of Harrington, formally a dual agent of the Home and Foreign Offices, and his wife, Lady Grace, who was the acting head of the Foreign Office. Both had recently pledged allegiance and were now members of the Network. Bronwyn decided it best to place the couple along with Waterford and Mary in the Network set.
Blake Gower, Earl of Devonton, agent of the Foreign Office. His wife, Lucille Stanford Gower, Countess Devonton, worked for the Home Office. Neither husband nor wife were directly associated with the Network, which left Bronwyn undecided how to best assign the couple—they were in a category of their own.
Mary had described Lady Lucy as a short, blonde beauty with a sweet smile and a razor-sharp mind, while her husband Lord Devonton was tall and deceptively handsome, with the uncanny ability to recall the minutest of details. Lord and Lady Devonton were the last couple to arrive and intrigued her the most. And their arrival meant she must reveal her presence.
Bronwyn released the window coverings, padded over to the enormous bed, and let herself flop backward onto the soft mattress. Inhaling deeply, she sat up and found herself face to face with a striking pink silk gown.
“Emma’s creations are divine.” Peyton’s smile was infectious, and Bronwyn found her own lips curling at the corners.
She admired the modest lace trimmed square décolleté with matching lace on the edges of the puffed sleeves. Her best friend had not failed to deliver on her promise. The elegant yet uncomplicated dress suited Bronwyn perfectly. And the shimmering pink silk—a material any woman would be mad not to covet. She bounded up from the bed, her confidence bolstered by the prospect of wearing the gown. Peyton lifted the garment, lining up the cap sleeves with Bronwyn’s shoulders.
If I look like a lady and act like a lady, surely no one will care I am a shopkeeper's daughter at heart.
Her heart faltered. She’d never been ashamed of her lineage before. Why was she attempting to be someone she was not? No dress would mask her true nature, Bronwyn sidestepped around Peyton and headed for the washbowl in the corner of the room. “I think I might like a bath before donning the gown. Can you arrange it?”
“Yes, my lady.” Peyton bobbed and headed for the door. “I shall take the dress and have it pressed…again.”
The door clicked closed. Bronwyn rested her hands on either side of the porcelain basin and inhaled a steadying breath. The dark smudges under her eyes rippled in her reflection. She needed a few more hours of rest before being paraded in front of the guests. Crawling into the bed, she pulled the pillow over her head and blocked out the sounds of the house party.
* * *
Hidden beneath the bed linens,Bronwyn kept her eyes closed as the sound of water being poured into what she hoped was to be her bath filled the room. Her head still felt heavy, but she was no longer sleepy.
“The footmen have left, my lady; you can come out now.” Peyton’s words reminded Bronwyn of the days when the two of them used to play hide and go seek as children. It was time she grew up and faced facts—she was a lady now. Best to start acting like one.
Pushing back the covers, Bronwyn rolled out of bed. “How long have I been asleep?”
“It’s nearly time for tea. You’ve slept all day, my lady.” Peyton lathered up soap in a washcloth and held it at the ready. She looked at the soapy material and then back to Bronwyn. “Oh, do you need help getting…”
Bronwyn awkwardly bent her arm behind her back and tried to reach for the row of buttons of her day dress. “I’m not a babe. I’m fully capable of undressing and bathing myself.”
Peyton's chin fell to her chest. Blast. She hadn’t meant to take out her frustration on her friend. That was not well done. Hadn’t Theo said a lady was always kind to all, no matter their station or role within a household?
Bronwyn crept up to her maid. “I’m sorry, Willa. I should not have lashed out at you. I would really appreciate your help.”
