Page 1 of Revealing a Rogue
Chapter One
The big, black lettering on the placard next to the front door stopped Landon Neale, Earl of Hadfield, in his tracks. Unmoving, he stared at the sign.Neale & Sons.
Life was full of twists and turns.
During his formative years, the possibility of Landon inheriting the earldom had been remote. Both his uncle and cousin were hale and exhibited no signs of the lung condition that resulted in his papa’s early death. Yet two years ago, he found himself thrust into the role of the Earl of Hadfield. A near-bankrupt estate was not all he had inherited; a generations-old duty to protect the royal family also accompanied the title. His days as a barrister and principal of his papa’s law firm were in the past. Shrugging away the onset of melancholy, Landon pushed open the front door of the offices his papa left to him and his brother Christopher. Followed by the curious stares of the staff, he made his way down the hall. Duty dictated it was time for him to marry and produce an heir or two.
He hadn’t visited his office or seen the woman he wished to propose to in nearly two years. Landon’s heart skipped a beat. Anticipating the smell of old, musty books and files, Landon entered his office. He came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room. His forehead contracted into a frown. On top of his desk, three neatly stacked bundles of files sat next to a vase filled with a white and pink floral arrangement. His brother had made no mention of another using his workspace. Landon glanced at the flowers—daisies. His lips twitched and then formed a smile. Miss Bronwyn, his former secretary, favored the blossoms. Perfect. If this was her workspace now, he wouldn’t have to hunt the woman down.
Graham Drummond, Lord Archbroke, his cousin by marriage, had advised, “Best to be comfortable when proposing.” Landon removed his greatcoat and hat. Glancing about the room, he placed them upon the chair his clients had once occupied. He patted the left side of his chest, and the crinkle of parchment settled his nerves. The special license Landon had asked Graham to procure sat securely inside his breast coat pocket.
Pacing in front of his desk, he mumbled, “Miss Bronwyn—” He paused. Brow furrowed, he searched his memory for her surname.Good lord, how had he allowed the impropriety?It was one thing not to be a stickler about such things but quite another to never have inquired in the six years she had acted as his personal secretary. He remembered quite distinctly Christopher introducing her as Miss Bronwyn, and he never questioned the familiarity of the introduction until now. The woman had inched her way into his heart and every thought, yet he hadn’t a clue what Bronwyn’s surname was. He’d have to rectify the oversight immediately. Otherwise, he couldn’t formally propose to the woman. Landon chuckled and resumed pacing.
If his cousin Theo, Lady Archbroke, were here, she’d bemoan his lack of preparation. As a former barrister, he should be ashamed of himself, not knowing all the particulars regarding the woman he intended to tie himself to for life. Theo had provided every detail he could possibly need or want to know about each titled lady his mother had recommended to be the next Countess of Hadfield. Any of the delightful debutantes would have sufficed, but his heart belonged to one woman—Bronwyn. Granted, he didn’t know her last name, nor her exact age, but those facts were of little consequence. The woman was intelligent, trustworthy, and excelled at challenging him. She was a mistress of rebuttals, and her expressive face captivated him. As head of the Protectors of the Royal Family, lovingly referred to as PORFs by its network of loyal supporters, Landon should have investigated Bronwyn’s background before proposing. Still, she was the only woman he instinctively trusted to bear his heir. His son would inherit the title of earl but also bear the mark of a PORF as every other Earl of Hadfield had for ten generations.
His mind was set on making Miss Bronwyn the next Countess Hadfield and wife to the head PORF. Pausing at the window, he swept back the heavy drapes with the back of his hand and peered out onto the street. He missed watching her march up the street every morning. Her determined stride, combined with her distracted muttering, made for a delightful image.
The door swung open. His wandering thoughts vanished at the sight of her.
One of her hands remained on the door handle while the other held up a parchment covering her face. He smiled at the sharp tip of a black lead protruding from her walnut-brown hair. For years, he’d imagined himself snatching the pencil from Bronwyn’s haphazard bun, releasing her locks, and threading his fingers through. He'd never dared while she was in his employ, nor had he risked touching her by wiping away the adorable graphite smudges that normally adorned her cheek.
Bronwyn released the door and strode into the room, her pretty features still hidden behind the file. Her skirts swirled around her legs, exposing the barest glimpse of her ankles.
“Of all the irresponsible…” she muttered.
Landon chuckled at her comment.
Bronwyn froze. “Oh! Lord Hadfield.” Her cheeks reddened. “What are you doing here?”
Oh, how he missed Bronwyn’s straightforward speech—her inability to lie and her propensity to get straight down to matters.
Clearing his throat, Landon replied, “Miss Bronwyn, it’s a pleasure to be in your company again.” He tilted his head, smiling.
“Revealing that roguish dimple of yours will not distract me. Explain your purpose, my lord.”
He suppressed the urge to cup her face and bring her lips to his. Her sharp tongue incited fantasies of enjoying her fiery nature in his bed. “You think of me as a rogue?”
She gracefully turned around, ignoring his question, placing the parchment neatly upon the middle stack. In one fluid motion, she pulled back the chair and slid behind the desk. Only after she rested her forearms upon the wood and clasped her hands together did her gaze inch up to meet his. Struck by her sky-blue eyes, Landon stood mesmerized. Catching himself gaping at the woman like a besotted fool, he took a moment to take inventory of her features. Oh, it’d be no hardship, none at all, to look upon Bronwyn’s sweet face every day.
Landon gestured to the middle stack. “What were you reading?”
Bronwyn leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest, settling them slightly below her modest décolleté. His concentration strayed—would her bosom fill the palm of his hand?
She gave him aI know what you are thinkinglook, and he promptly returned his gaze to hers.
“Why did you not answer my inquiry?” he asked.
Her answer was to wag both her eyebrows at him.
Landon took a step closer and leaned against the desk. “I didn’t realize I needed a reason to visitmyoffice.”
“Mr. Neale reassignedyouroffice tomesince it appeared you no longer had use for it.”
It was true his little brother no longer needed his help nor his involvement in the running of the family business. Christopher had matters well in hand, while Landon was still coming to terms with the multitude of responsibilities he had inherited.
“My apologies, Miss Bronwyn. Christopher did not advise me of the change. Now, tell me, what could possibly have captured your attention to the extent you didn’t notice my presence?”
“Lord Hadfield, I’m certain you’re a very busy man. Please enlighten me as to the reason why you are here today.”
