Page 69 of My Rogue, My Ruin
“Please, don’t go,” he said quietly.
He watched her hand stall on the doorknob, her body shaking. Her lip trembled as her eyes lifted to his. Her face flushed with embarrassment, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her back into his arms and kiss away the hurt he’d put there. Archer felt like a fool for letting his guard down whenever Brynn entered his presence. She made him forget himself, forget his detachment, forget that the only female company he sought was to warm his bed, nothing more. The woman made him consider dangerous things, and the ludicrous engagement was the most dangerous of all. She had risked much coming here unescorted and admitting to being alone with him last night. As it stood, she was caught in this diversion as much as he was. If she doubted herself and called off the betrothal now, it would not bode well for either of them.
He cleared his throat. “I do not intend to dishonor you, Brynn, and let me assure you, you have done nothing more than impress me.” Her fingers clenched on the doorknob. She was fighting him—he could see it. “It may have been rash coming in here and saying what you did, but it was also bold. It is also done, so let us discuss it rationally.”
He took a deep breath and said the words he never thought he’d say. “If this betrothal is the course we must pursue, then there are some things that we need to speak about.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I promise to keep my distance, if that helps you make your decision.”
She met his eyes evenly, and Archer almost grinned at her display of pride. He didn’t, however. She would likely view it as condescension on his part. God, she was beautiful when she was angry.
“I don’t have much longer before I am discovered missing from Bishop House.”
Archer strode to the door and signaled to a waiting footman. “Please ring for Lady Eloise. And bring two glasses of sherry for the ladies.”
He took a seat on the sofa and invited Brynn to do the same. The sherry arrived before Eloise.
“I do not wish to be married,” he said bluntly as soon as the footman left.
“You’ve made that abundantly clear,” she replied.
He nodded. “But neither of us can deny that there is something between us.”
“If you say so.”
He stared at Brynn, a lingering, slow look that swept from the top of her head to her breasts to the hands that rested neatly folded in her lap.
“I do.”
She blushed fiercely, but set her lips and stared him down with her frostiest glare. “That is neither here nor there. Physical attraction has nothing to do with anything. It is lust, nothing more.” She didn’t even flinch at the vulgarity of her language. If she was trying to shock him, it would take more than a few choice words. He took a sip of his drink, his gaze mocking. She tore her eyes away. “And if you touch me again, you’ll be lucky if you escape thissituationwith your neck unscathed, I promise you.”
Eloise entered, her apprehensive gaze drifting between the two of them like a frightened bird. Archer was quick to put her at ease with a gentle smile. He noticed that Brynn did the same, patting the empty seat beside her as she hastily composed herself.
“Thank you, Eloise, for joining us,” he said. “I will be brief. Neither Lady Briannon nor I wish to be married. However, it appears that this charade has become a necessity.”
“Brother—”
“Hear me out,” he said in a businesslike tone. “Despite my reluctance, I will agree to this engagement for now, at least so that we can focus on finding the real killer, which means we will have to post banns and have an official announcement in the papers. We shall be forced to see this farce through to the end if we are to be successful.”
“This farce is as much an inconvenience for me as it is for you,” Brynn glowered. He stared at her, but said nothing. Lady Briannon was turning out to be unlike any other woman he had ever known—infuriating and maddening to the point of distraction.
“And we must plan an engagement ball,” Eloise was saying, her voice meek as if sensing his black mood. Archer stared at her grimly, but nodded. A ball was a natural event to follow such an announcement. “I am happy to begin the preparations,” Eloise added. “May I suggest a masquerade?”
“It isde rigueurthis season,” Brynn said with a smile, her tone holding none of the anger it had moments before—anger he knew was directed solely at him. Archer couldn’t help noticing his sister’s grateful look. They both knew that she would enjoy the ball more if she wasn’t the only one covering her face.
“Lovely,” Eloise said. “We could always say you fell in love at a masquerade. The Gainsbridge one…if anyone asks, I mean…” She trailed off in uncomfortable silence.
Archer frowned. His sister was an incurable romantic, but there would be no talk of love. Marriages in thetonoccurred for reasons of convenience, just as this one would. However, instead of a title or a fortune, the matter of convenience happened to be his neck.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said. “Anything else?”
“You will need to speak with my father,” Brynn said. “Although he will be the least of our problems. In the wake of the late duke’s death, I fear that an announcement of our betrothal will draw more attention than necessary.”
Archer nodded again. “I will attend to your father as soon as possible. As far as attention goes, that would have happened regardless. I have been particularly vocal in my desire not to wed, but should I be interrogated on the matter, I shall simply say that it was my late father’s wish.”
“And the killer?” Brynn asked.
“Leave that to me. I do have some suspicions of my own, which I will investigate.”
“Do you think it was the Masked Marauder?” Eloise asked in a small voice. “I have heard that he is in London.”
