Page 40 of My Rogue, My Ruin
She ground her teeth. There she went again, tossing morals that may not exist onto the criminal’s shoulders.
Braxton appeared at the entrance to the salon, a black card resting upon a silver tray. “Your ladyship,” he intoned with a low bow.
“Thank you, Braxton,” her mama said, dismissing him with a nod, her eyes widening at the ducal seal stamped on the outside of the delicate parchment. She quickly opened the note and read the card within. “An invitation from the duke himself for dinner! Tonight!”
“Wonderful,” Gray said with an exaggerated eye roll. “Fortunately for me, I have a previous engagement. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy watching you deliver your precious daughter like a fatted lamb to His Grace’s esteemed table.”
“Graham, enough,” his mother scolded. Her eyes once more darted to the footman, and she lowered her voice. “If the duke’s interest should turn into an offer of marriage, it will be the match of the century. Our Briannon, a duchess!”
She gaped at her mother, the wheels in her head spinning at an alarmingly fast rate. She couldn’t conceive of anything worse than being at the duke’s residence for a dinner party. And what if his son were there? Brynn’s mouth grew dry at the thought of it. “I am busy as well, Mama. I forgot that I was to join Lady Cordelia for…for…”
“Dinner,” Gray suggested helpfully. Brynn wanted to kick him.
“There is nothing to be done but cancel, Briannon. I insist. Cordelia will understand. She would agree this is far more important.” Her mother tossed a disgruntled look in her daughter’s direction. “Come, Briannon, we have much to do. You must look perfect for tonight. The duke’s attention must not be diverted for one second.” She tapped her fingers thoughtfully. “Nothing you have will do. We must go to Bond Street.”
Brynn leaped to her feet. “Mama, you are being unreasonable. You cannot have a dress commissioned in one day, far less a few hours.”
“You can when it’s for a duke, and one spares no expense. We must find the perfect dress, one fit for a duchess. Do hurry, dear. Braxton,” she said in a firm voice. “Ready the carriage immediately. And send Colton ahead.”
Brynn’s eyes flew to Gray’s as their mother swept from the room. “If I am to go, then you must as well.”
“Must I?” Gray grinned. “I abhor shopping.”
“Not shopping, you lout,” Brynn hissed. “To this blasted dinner.”
“Careful. If you don’t hold your tongue, you’ll risk injuring His Grace’s delicate sensibilities.” He grinned wickedly. “Or mayhap you should. Mother would never live down the scandal.”
For a moment, Brynn considered doing just that. It would destroy her mother, and though the woman vexed her, that was one thing Brynn would never do—not even to avoid the prospect of making the worst match in history. She conceded defeat with a sigh and waited for the footman to fetch her coat.
When he arrived, she bade him to fetch her lady’s maid. If she had to endure a handful of hours at the modiste with her overbearing mother, she wanted to at least have Lana at her side. One glance at her maid’s expression would tell her which fabrics or styles were abominable and which were pleasing. Lana had a clear eye for fashion, her mother having been a modiste in Russia when she was a girl. Brynn trusted her taste implicitly.
“You are truly the most terrible brother in the world,” Brynn said, shaking her head at Gray’s smirk. “When the time comes for you to be on the marriage block, I shall be sure to remember this.”
Gray looked supremely unruffled by her threats. “I look forward to it.”
Brynn made one last effort to sway her brother before joining her mother in the waiting carriage. “Gray, honestly—you cannot agree that I should encourage this suit.”
Her brother’s laughing face sobered. He took her arm, drawing her into the front salon out of view of the hovering servants. “He is a duke, Brynn. He can offer you a life of luxury at the pinnacle of society.”
She peered at him in disbelief. Who was this man standing before her? He deplored Bradburne. Hawksfield, as well. Though she didn’t know why that mattered, considering Hawksfield was not the one pressing his suit.
“I thought you didn’t like him? Or his son?”
“When it comes to marriage,likinghas nothing to do with anything. Mother is right—in the eyes of theton, it would be a brilliant match.”
Brynn exhaled evenly. “What if I don’t want a brilliant match?”
“It’s what every lady wants, isn’t it?” Gray forced a smile. “You’ll be a duchess, free to do as you like, free to be happy. This is what you wanted, Brynn.”
“Is it?” she blurted out. Happiness and marriage to the duke seemed to be at opposite ends of the spectrum. She wanted conversation and laughter and friendship. He wanted to bed a young bride with a fortune. The thought made her ill.
“I hate to sound like our mother, but you could not do better than a duke,” Gray continued. “Even one rumored to be penniless. I’m just relieved it’s not Hawksfield.”
Brynn’s voice softened. “You used to be friends with him.”
“As a boy, yes. As a man, he is one from whom I would caution you to keep your distance. The rumors about his ruthlessness are all true.”
Brynn thought of the protective way the marquess had watched Eloise. The rumors couldn’tallbe true. Then again, she didn’t have the intimate knowledge Gray had gleaned from White’s and the many gaming halls frequented by most male members of theton, including Hawksfield.
