Page 29 of Revealing a Rogue
With impeccable timing, Jacobs appeared in the doorway with a lawn shirt at the ready. Stepping into his breeches, Landon fastened his falls and padded over to the door. “What is it, Jacobs?”
“A missive from your brother arrived this morn.”
Landon punched his arms into the shirtsleeves. Whatever the matter was, it must be of import, for Christopher was fully aware that Archbroke was in charge until his return.
* * *
Bronwyn steppedin front of the large looking glass as she wrapped the lovely tartan Lady Mary had left as a wedding gift for her about her shoulders. The prickle of the fine wool against her skin reminded Bronwyn that this was to be her new life. Glorious gowns made from expensive silks and material, staff to wait upon her every need, and meals that burst with flavors she’d not thought possible. This was the life of a lady, not one she’d ever envisioned for herself. Hadn’t her parents always warned:Never forget your station in life. Best to keep your head on straight. Be happy with your lot.Like a good and dutiful daughter, she’d never debated her parents’ thinking.
She narrowed her gaze at the woman staring back at her. How had Landon described her eyes? A shade of aquamarine with shards of sparkling sunlight. No, the man was wrong. Her eyes were a dull shade of sky blue. She reached up to place a wayward wisp of her mouse-brown hair behind her ear. It was definitely not the vibrant, varied chestnut-brown color Landon had proclaimed it. Turning away in disgust, she regained her senses. She was no beauty, but when Landon’s intense gaze landed upon her, she felt like a diamond of the first water. Landon was a rogue in disguise, constantly feeding her mind with crazy images of herself. Nightly she pondered the question that continued to plague her. Why her? Why had Landon deemed her worthy over the elegant ladies of the ton or any other woman of his acquaintance? She was no extraordinary beauty. She wasn’t any more intelligent than Emma or any of the other women in the Network, and she certainly wasn’t as brilliant or as brave as Theo. Bronwyn glanced back in the looking glass and shook her head.
She scanned the bedchamber for her husband. Her eyes fixed upon the rumpled bed linens—why had she even suggested leaving the bed today?
Gripping the tartan at the center of her chest, she sighed. Guilt. She couldn’t go on pretending. Landon’s nightly confessions of his love for her and mumblings of worry at having abandoned his responsibilities weighed heavily upon her chest.
Tip-toeing down the hall, she slinked out the front door and escaped into the fresh air.That was easier than expected.The slew of carefully crafted arguments to escape the castle unaccompanied went unused. Not a single day had passed since Landon’s proposal that she had managed to venture out of doors without a team of footmen trailing her.
With her face tilted sunwards, Bronwyn basked in its warmth. She loosened her tight hold on her shawl, relaxing the muscles in her shoulders. A good brisk walk would help her clear her cloudy thoughts. Stopped, at a fork in the path, Landon’s suggestion to assist him like before replayed in her mind. How could he even suggest a thing?
Much had changed. Two years had passed.
He had changed. Landon was no longer solely focused on his occupation as a barrister, happily unaware of his family’s ties to the Crown, and unmarked. He was a peer with unparalleled duties to the Crown and the Network.
She had changed. No longer merely a shopkeeper’s daughter. She was a valued legal assistant and reveled in working in the legal offices of Neale & Sons.
Bronwyn kicked a small pebble over and over, punctuating each thought until it disappeared into the long grass. Walking aimlessly, she ventured into the woods and mulled over her new circumstance. Years of studying legal matters alongside Landon, and then Christopher, were no longer of value. She lacked the knowledge to run a successful household—meal planning, selection of décor, which charities to support. Frustrated, Bronwyn increased her pace. She would be expected to hire and train servants. People who were once her friends would become members of her household staff. She was no better than any of them. No more important.
Bronwyn clutched her shawl tighter. The heat of the sun fled as she continued deeper into the woods. Tall, broad trees cast dark shadows that mirrored her mood.
Landon alluded to his need for a partner. Her mum and dad were partners. Her mum had assisted her dad in running the store while she carried and raised five children. And her dad made no qualms about declaring he’d be lost without her mum’s assistance. Bronwyn’s shoulders sagged. Would Landon ever be able to make such a claim?
Increasing her pace, she stomped farther into the woods. With each step, Bronwyn’s resolve deepened—one way or another, she was going to aid Landon.But how?
A tree limb hidden beneath fallen leaves caught her foot, toppling Bronwyn onto her knees. Rolling to her side, she brushed the crumpled leaves from her injured ankle and gingerly pressed around the joint. No broken bones, but it was tender to the touch and beginning to swell. Through the tree branches, the sun was barely visible. With her injury, it would take her twice as long to return to the castle. Holding her breath, she placed her foot flat upon the ground and tried to stand. Shooting pain caused her to fall back on to her bottom.Blast!
Bronwyn searched the ground for a stick thick enough to provide support. Luck was not on her side today. Nothing but small twigs and dry leaves lay on the trail floor. Born and raised in town, she’d imagined the woods peaceful, but now they were eerily quiet. She was all alone and absolutely out of her element. Heaving in deep breaths, she calmed her mind.
The crunch of boots behind her sent her scrambling on her knees.
Red leather slippers appeared before her. “Lady Bronwyn. May I be of assistance?”
The woman wore skirts of sturdy blue velvet. A tartan comprised of forest green and dark navy squares separated by bright yellow yarn was draped across one of the lady’s shoulders and around her waist. The material mirrored the design of Bronwyn’s shawl. She must be at the feet of her hostess—Lady Mary, the Countess of Waterford.
Bronwyn raised her gaze inch by inch until the warmth of Lady Mary’s friendly smile called forth an answering grin. It was no wonder Landon spoke of Lady Mary with awe. She was a gorgeous woman.
Lady Mary crouched down. “Would you prefer Gilbert carry you back?”
Barely above a whisper, Bronwyn asked, “How did you find me?”
“Aunt Agnes lives a good two hours’ ride from here. We set out when I was informed you were lost. They made no mention of you being hurt. I apologize for not arriving sooner; we had a tad bit of trouble locating you.”
“Why didn’t they advise you of my location?”
Lady Mary frowned. “My sources aggravatingly only share what they believe is pertinent.”
Bronwyn couldn’t help but laugh at Lady Mary’s response and exasperated look. She swallowed the last half of a laugh as a tall, athletically built man came into sight. “I’d like to try and walk on my own and not be carried like a babe.”
Placing a hand on the man’s arm for leverage, Lady Mary rose. “Can you assist Lady Bronwyn to her feet?”
