Page 12 of My Rogue, My Ruin
Until the evening before, Brynn hadn’t set eyes on her neighbor for several years. She’d heard the rumors, though. Of how he’d been raised in Essex after his mother’s tragic death, while his father, the duke, had ensconced himself in London society. How Hawksfield was said to be cold, surly, and humorless, the opposite of his citified, pleasure-seeking father. From his swarthy coloring and unyielding frown, she held no doubt that the rumors of his heathen upbringing were valid. And now, after one silly dance, Mama seemed inclined to chase him down and shove Brynn into his path.
However, her brief interaction with Lord Hawksfield last night had convinced Brynn that the man found her of little interest. He hadn’t sought her out for a second dance or even glanced her way after their torturous waltz. No, regardless of her mama’s designs, Brynn had failed miserably at hooking Hawksfield as a husband. It was a relieving thought. While she did wish to be successful in finding a husband either this season or the next, she didn’t wish to merelyhookone.
She wanted to respect her intended. She wanted to admire him, and, of course, be admired in return. Was it too much to hope for laughter or companionship in a marriage? The marquess had not struck her as the sort of man who could fill that order. And a girl had to have standards. Brynn wasn’t naive enough to dream of a love match, but if her papa had to accept an offer, she’d be damned if she didn’t at leastlikethe man.
A loud clatter of hooves and the jangle of carriage tack sounded just beyond the day room windows, where the gravel drive rounded a fountain. Perfection. A visitor had arrived to rescue her from this monotony. Her mother peered up at her from over her half-moon spectacles and pursed her lips. “Straighten your back, dear. Whoever it is will not wish to see your shoulders in such a slump.”
Brynn did as she was told, though not without a groan. And when a moment later the horse and carriage began to pull away and retreat down the drive, she couldn’t contain her disappointment. Apparently a visitor wouldn’t be rescuing her after all. A minute hadn’t passed before Braxton, their butler, appeared within the doorway and bowed.
“What is it, Braxton?” her mother asked.
“A package, my lady,” he said, his eyes shifting to Brynn. “For Lady Briannon.”
Victory! Brynn tossed her hoop and needle back into the basket at her feet and stood. Her gaze panned from her mother to Braxton, who held a long, flat case bound in crimson silk ribbon.
“Were you expecting a package, dear?” Mama asked.
“Not at all,” Brynn answered, with that warm, peculiar delight that only an unexpected parcel could give.
Mama nodded for Braxton to bring the parcel into the room. Brynn reached for the box, admiring the intricate carvings along its top. The box alone was an exquisite gift, carved from the richest mahogany and inlaid with gold. Brynn’s breath caught as she ran her hands along the gilded swirls.
“Is there a note?” she asked.
“No, my lady. Only the instruction to deliver into the hands of Lady Briannon Findlay.”
“Did you recognize the carriage or driver?” Mama further inquired.
Braxton canted his head in an apologetic tilt. “No, my lady. Both the driver and the man who presented the parcel were unfamiliar.”
The mysterious method of delivery heightened Brynn’s anticipation as she loosed the ribbon.
“Thank you, Braxton. That will be all,” Mama said, clearly disappointed.
Brynn’s suddenly clumsy fingers fumbled with the latch, and as she opened the box, her breath escaped on a silent incredulous exhale. All the feeling in her body drained away as she stared at the contents. Resting inside, on a bed of luxurious cream velvet, was a ruby and diamond necklace. Each ruby glowed as if on fire, the interspersed diamonds cooling them like ice.
The bandit’s words flew into her mind:You need rubies to go with that defiant spirit.Rubies. It had to be from him—the masked man. Who else would send rubies without a note? Brynn slammed the lid shut, her shoulders heaving with delayed shock and a wild rush of hot shame.
Her mother jumped. “What is it?” she asked, voice pitched high with concern.
“It’s…it’s a necklace,” Brynn croaked, her throat dry. “A ruby necklace.”
Mama tore across the room to where Brynn stood and pried the box from her stiff fingers. She opened the lid and gasped, a hand fluttering to her chest. “Ohmy. But where is the note? There must be a note!”
“There is no message,” Brynn whispered. “Just the necklace.”
A breathtaking necklace, worth a thousand times more than the pearls it was no doubt meant to replace. The thought tempered her shock and returned a dash of the anger she’d felt when the bandit had taken her grandmother’s necklace. Even such magnificently cut rubies and diamonds could never replace the pearls. Still, Brynn could barely tear her eyes away from them.
Her mother turned to Braxton, who had known to hover outside the doorway to the day room. “Come now, there must have been a note. Braxton?”
He reentered the room, hands clasped behind his back. He had been with their family for ages, and Brynn knew he would not have been so incompetent as to have lost a note somewhere between the front door and the day room.
“There was no note, Mama,” Brynn said dully as the butler echoed the same. The bandit wouldn’t have been so forthcoming. “What did the carriage look like, Braxton?”
“It was a plain black coach, my lady. Norbert attended the horses and might have gotten a better look at it.”
“Fetch me Norbert at once,” her mother commanded, returning the box to Brynn and leaving for the front hall.
Brynn could hear her mother questioning the footman, but she knew he hadn’t recognized the driver, either. The bandit would never have sent a coach or driver that could be tracked down. She ran her fingers over the rubies and diamonds, each one a carat or more.
