Page 23 of My Rogue, My Ruin
“Speaking of our neighbor, there are rumors in London.” He kept his voice low, as if imparting a confidence. “Bradburne lives an excessive lifestyle, some say to the detriment of his fortune. You have a significant dowry, Brynn, and I wouldn’t put it past Hawksfield to try to get his hands on it in order to stock the family coffers.”
“Gray!” she cried, though she faltered on what to say next. She wasn’t naive as to how marriages worked, and why certain men married certain women and vice versa. Money and titles were coveted. She found it strangely distasteful to think of itandLord Hawksfield in the same breath. Brynn would rather be married off to an untitled pauper than someone as capricious as he. For heaven’s sake, she’d choose marriage to the bandit she’d shot over that high-handed man.
She banished the thought as a sudden rush of heat spiraled through her at the recollection of the marauder’s utterly virile body. If she were married to him, he would be well within his rights totake her, as Cordelia’s aunt had put it. At least one form oftakingseemed to be something the bandit did particularly well. She had to force a breath into her lungs at an unbidden image of him lowering her into their marriage bed and taking something quite different.
“It’s not beyond the realm of possibility, that’s all I’m saying,” Gray went on, holding up his hands in surrender, and absolutely clueless as to the bawdy turn of her thoughts. “And I don’t want to see you caught up in some scandal that ends in a marriage to that…that…”
“Scoundrel?” she offered.
He vaulted one of his golden brows. “I would have chosen a slightly less tepid word.”
She smiled. His vocabulary did often do his quick temper justice. However, it seemed odd the distaste Gray harbored for their neighbor.
“Is he so very awful? Do not think me too well informed, brother, but are you not known as a scoundrel yourself?” she said, still grinning even as Gray’s lips pulled thin with annoyance. Or perhaps it was embarrassment. “And what of the other young men of your acquaintance?” she pressed playfully. “Aren’t all men scoundrels in some way?”
“If you have heard that I am on par with Hawksfield, then I would say your information is rather dusty,” he replied with a lopsided frown. “And while I know a scoundrel or two, none of the men of my acquaintance are interested in ruining my sister, that I promise.”
“You needn’t worry, Gray.” Stifling her amusement, Brynn was quick to reassure him. “I am in no danger of being caught up in any scandal concerning Lord Hawksfield or being ruined by any man.”
Just a half-naked bandit whom she’d shot.
Brynn’s mind went to the exquisite ruby necklace in her bedroom that the blackguard had given her, and her heart stuttered. Her early morning ride with the future Duke of Bradburne paled in comparison to the time she’d spent in utterly indecent proximity to that thief. If there were to be any scandals in her future, she’d wager they’d be at the hands of the Masked Marauder, especially if they ever crossed paths again. She would fling the necklace in his face and shoot him again for stealing her grandmother’s pearlsandfor bidding her undress him while he was half-conscious. Unwittingly, her hand lifted to her throat as she grinned at the gratifying, if savage, sentiment.
“And what if Hawksfield is the one who sent you that ruby necklace?” her brother asked. Her startled glance jumped to his.
“He isn’t,” she answered with conviction. Too much perhaps, because Gray peered at her, his curiosity piqued at her resolute rejection. “Not if their finances are in shambles, as you’ve said,” she added quickly.
“He could have gotten them on credit,” Gray mumbled.
Brynn ignored him. “I have to get inside and dress before the decade ends, Gray. We can argue about the mysterious ruby necklace later, although I have it on high authority that Hawksfield wouldn’t know the first thing about sending courtly gifts toanyfemale, much less something so imaginative. That would require him having an actual personality.”
Gray chuckled, shaking his head. “Your tongue is as sharp as a whip, sister. Don’t forget, the Gainsbridge affair is tonight,” he said over his shoulder, and Brynn cringed. Though desperate to avoid yet another social scene, she’d be expected to go to the annual masquerade since the Earl and Countess of Gainsbridge were dear friends of her parents.
“Blast it,” she swore.
Her brother chuckled. “If Mother heard you speaking like that, or found out you were gallivanting around Ferndale in the middle of the night, you’d likely be disowned.” He shook his head as if perplexed. “You are the only female I know who would rather shoot a boar than attend a ball.”
“I like balls, I just don’t like being ogled like a teacake,” Brynn muttered. She would much prefer getting to know someone and determining whether they had common interests before being bound together for a lifetime. “You’ll be going, won’t you?”
He caught up and linked his arm with hers, his teeth flashing. “Why certainly, dear sister. After all, my wonderful, handsome self must attend if I am to set the ladies of thetonafire.”
Brynn shook her head at his bald-faced lie—she knew her brother would prefer to be locked up in Newgate rather than attend a ball. Of late, Gray seemed to favor the quieter comforts of Ferndale and the local village, despite being a prime target, as the future Earl of Dinsmore, for the mothers and daughters of theton. Just as their neighbors were, the Duke of Bradburne, and his only son, Lord Hawksfield, each of them unattached.
“Liar.” Brynn pinched Gray’s shoulder, before skipping ahead a few steps out of his reach. “Then again, if you find a bride who loves you as much as you obviously love yourself, you will have made a splendid match.”
“That is the plan,” he said with an affected flourish and then sighed. “Alas, such perfection like this does not exist, so I fear that it may be a lost cause.”
“You are impossible.” She skipped forward a few more steps and raised her eyebrow. “Now come on—let us race to the house!”
With the head start, she had decent odds of winning. Until, of course, Gray decided to show off, rushing past her while running backward, a smug smile upon his face. “What did the turtle say to the hare?”
“Not fair!” she panted, still keeping the cloak tightly drawn around her to conceal her bloodied clothing. It was a burden, but she still caught up with him at the side of the house, near the servant’s entrance. “You have longer legs than I!”
Brynn collapsed against the brick wall, breathing hard. A sharp pain caught her unawares in the chest.Oh no.She clutched her torso and buckled over, a series of dry coughs racking her body.Not again.She’d thought the attacks were over. Gone forever. The more she tried to stop them, though, the more violently they came, until she was hunched over wheezing.
“Brynn!” Gray stooped down beside her. She stalled him with a hand as another wave of coughs rendered it impossible for her to speak. He would know, just as she did, that once started, it would be better to let the coughing run its course.
“Fine,” she sputtered between coughs. “Be fine…moment.”
