Page 64 of My Rogue, My Ruin
“I saw the way you looked at each other at the masquerade. I know you have feelings for him. Otherwise, why would you care so much to come here and further compromise your reputation in the process? Admit it, you care. And nothing would please me more than to have you as a sister-in-law. We are nearly sisters already, aren’t we?”
“But Hawksfield and Iaren’tengaged,” Brynn said. “He was never even planning to press his suit.”
Just his body and his mouth against my own, she thought to herself.
“The inquiry agent needn’t know that,” Eloise replied.
Brynn stared at her, at a loss for words to argue with her logic. “I don’t see how this will help.”
“If you were busy becoming engaged, neither of you could have been killing the duke, and that would account for both your whereabouts,” she replied, whispering even lower as Archer and Thomson continued their back and forth inside the library. But Brynn wasn’t paying attention to their words any longer. All she could hear were Eloise’s: announce an engagement. ToArcher.
“I… Hawksfield does not wish to be married,” she said.
“Briannon, please. It doesn’t mean you must carry through with it. You could cry off once the true murderer has been found. But right now, you are the only one who can clear away any suspicion Mr. Thomson harbors regarding my brother, especially if he was withyouwhen my father was killed. Please,” she said, her grip on Brynn’s shoulders constricting. “Please, I can’t lose the only family I have left.”
Brynn’s heart raced. What Eloise was suggesting made sense—an engagement would certainly diffuse Thomson’s theory. But that wasn’t what made her consider such a flimsy and mortifying plan—it was the simple fact that if Archer were under suspicion, it wouldn’t be long before Mr. Thomson and the rest of Bow Street dug deeper and found evidence that could implicate Archer as the Masked Marauder.
Thomson had already made mention that morning of the marauder’s most recent attacks, and even aligned them with the new duke’s movements. A carriage waylaid on the way to Worthington Abbey’s Ball. Another carriage attacked after Archer had left the masquerade. Brynn recalled hearing about a third in the country before Archer returned to London, and just last night, another carriage stopped on a side street and robbed by the increasingly hostile criminal.
Thomson had seemed to be sniffing around a connection between the marauder and the duke, and what if he continued to align the other highwayman attacks with Archer’s whereabouts? The way he’d spoken earlier that morning, about a need to bring the peerage down several notches so they may taste the reality of justice, stuck in the forefront of her mind. If he got so much as an inkling regarding Archer’s secret, he would set on it like a rabid dog.
He would revel in the scandal that exposing Archer would cause. Poor Eloise could barely show her face in polite society as it was—a scandal like that would ruin her. Brynn’s own honor, and her family’s, could also be thrown into question if Thomson continued to suspect her. And if Archer were to go to the gallows…as infuriating as the man was, the thought of him being hanged was simply too much to bear.
Brynn took a deep breath, turned to Eloise, and nodded. “I’ll do it,” she said before her courage could desert her, and tiptoed back to the library door. Eloise shot her a grateful and encouraging look. Neither did much to calm her pounding heart and quivering legs. Or quiet the voice in her head that kept telling her how foolhardy this was.
“Thank you,” Eloise mouthed.
Brynn nodded again and swung open the door before her mind could register that she’d taken complete leave of her senses.
“Whatisthe nature of your relationship with Lady Briannon?” Mr. Thomson was asking.
“Darling, we are going to be late,” she said loudly, and then pressed a hand to her lips in mock surprise as both heads swiveled toward her. She lowered her hand immediately when she saw it tremble. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize that you were still occupied.”
To Archer’s credit, his face remained inscrutable, although she could see a muscle twitching in his jaw—the only sign of any outward reaction to her sudden uninvited appearance. His eyes flashed a silver storm, but Brynn noted only how utterly exhausted he looked. Dark shadows congregated beneath his eyes, making his face look drawn and haunted. Despite his brutish kisses and the unexpected and confusing desire she felt for him each time, Brynn couldn’t quell the immediate surge of compassion that filled her breast.
Eloise swept in behind her, and Archer’s eyes flicked to his sister. They lightened a bit, Brynn noticed, but remained suspicious.
She, too, feigned surprise. “I thought Mr. Thomson had left, and I told Lady Briannon as much. I am deeply sorry, brother.”
Brynn smiled as brightly as she could manage, and walked to Archer even though he was glowering at her. Her heart was tripping over itself, and she was sure her feet would follow suit, but they held steady, surprising her. Once she’d reached his side, she slid her clammy hand into his cold one. Archer stiffened, though she doubted the agent had observed it. Just in case, Brynn beamed an excessive smile for Mr. Thomson’s benefit.
The man’s face puckered into a frown as he took in Brynn and Archer’s linked hands.
“Mr. Thomson, I am afraid I have not been quite honest with you,” she began. The agent pinned her with a look of dawning victory. She nearly felt the need to apologize for being about to disappoint him.
“You see, I did not have my hem mended by a maid last evening—”
Archer took his hand from hers and turned to step in front of her. “Do not say anything more.”
Brynn stepped aside so she could see the agent again and avoided Archer’s eyes. “The truth is—”
“Briannon,” he growled, but she gathered one last shot of nerve and spoke over his voice, loudly enough for any servant passing in the hall to hear.
“We are engaged to be married. His Grace and I. As of last night.”
Archer’s entire body tensed like a coiled spring, and this time Mr. Thomson most certainly witnessed it. She could not look at Archer, though she could feel the astonished weight of his gaze upon her cheek.
“We met after dinner,” Brynn went on, preferring to watch the inquiry agent’s slowly narrowing stare than to risk a glance up at Archer. She would never be able to finish the lie if she did.
