Page 7 of Revealing a Rogue
“I learned from the bloomin’ best.” Emma wrapped Bronwyn in a hug. “I need at least another week.”
Bronwyn returned the hug. “A week? You have two days.”
Emma groaned and said, “Oh, ye’re goin’ be a tyrant.”
Chapter Three
The tinkle of the bell above her head announced Bronwyn’s arrival at her dad’s store. Her nose crinkled at the scent of dried, slightly moldy tobacco leaves. Working in the Neales’ law offices, where snuff and cigars were frowned upon, had given her a respite from the pungent smell.
Harold, her brother, glanced up from a perfectly balanced scale. “Watcha doin’ walking in through the front?”
Bronwyn turned to face the door. Blimey, what was she thinking? Lost in practicing the speech she was to deliver to her parents, she had waltzed right into the store through the street entrance instead of the back door used by Network members and family.
Anxious to be done with the deed of informing her parents of Landon’s preposterous idea to marry, she ignored her brother and walked through the store to the back. She raised a hand to push back the curtain to enter the small room where her dad kept the store's records, when Harold yelled, “He’s upstairs.”
Bronwyn froze. Upstairs held her dad’s private office, where he conducted official Network affairs. Blood drained from her face. Had her dad already heard? With a fortifying breath, she marched around crates and boxes to the staircase that led up to her dad’s office.
Skipping over the fifth step that creaked, Bronwyn crept her way up. On the landing, she paused and took inventory. Chin up. Straight back. Shoulders squared. Ready. Confronting her dad with the news was far worse than facing the guillotine.
As she neared the door, a familiar male voice boomed through the walls. “It’s been near on six months since his return from the Continent. He can’t continue to dally. He needs a bloody heir.” Mr. Rutherford, a Network elder, was clearly agitated. She had no illusions about whichheRutherford was referring to—Landon. She crept closer to the door.
“Lady Archbroke suspects he’s already decided upon someone.” Her dad’s sigh matched Rutherford’s frustrated tone. “Our Lady Theo promises to alert us as soon as she can.”
“But we need time to install the right staff to ensure the lady is worthy of holding such a position amongst us, and that is merely the preliminary work to be done.”
Her stomach clenched. Everyone was expecting Landon to propose to a lady. She didn’t know the first thing about being the wife of a titled gentleman, let alone a PORF.
“I’m fully aware of what has to be done. There is still time. Lord Hadfield will have to properly court the lady, which will allow us to have everything in place before the wedding.” Her dad’s voice faded and strengthened as he spoke. He must be pacing. He never paced unless he was upset.
“Bronwyn Cadby!” Her mum’s harsh whisper scared her straight.
Swiveling to face her mum, Bronwyn murmured, “I was…”
“I know exactly what ye were doin’. I raised ye to know better.”
Bronwyn bowed her head and replied, “Yes, Mum.”
“Harold came and got me. Said ye were behavin’ strange.” Her mum pressed the back of her hand to Bronwyn’s forehead. “Ye’re not sick, are ye?”
“No, Mum. But I must speak with Dad.” Bronwyn held her breath as she waited.
Stepping around Bronwyn, her mum rapped on the door.
“Enter.”
Following close on her mum’s heels, like she had as a child when summoned by her dad, Bronwyn marched resolutely in her mum’s shadow.
“Rutherford, please excuse the interruption, but I must speak with my husband.” When Rutherford remained seated, her mum added, “Alone.”
Rutherford stood and donned his hat and coat. “Think upon it, Cadby. I’ll be eagerly awaiting your call to convene.” He tipped his hat as he passed them to leave.
As soon as the latch fell into place, her mum tugged Bronwyn to her side. “Well, git on with it. Speak.”
Her dad turned from the window, and his knowing gaze fell upon her. He couldn’t possibly know what news she bore, yet he always seemed to anticipate what she was about to say. Wringing her hands behind her, Bronwyn said, “Lord Hadfield paid me a visit today.”
Neither parent responded. Their features completely blank as they waited for her to continue. The speech Bronwyn had prepared deserted her mind. Instead, she blurted, “His lordship has asked me to marry him.” As she expected, her mum gave her a broad smile, and her dad’s features darkened with a fierce scowl.
Her dad stomped over to his chair behind the desk and sat. “He’s already procured the special license. You will wed as soon as I give him my blessing.” He picked up a news sheet and read.
