Page 65 of My Rogue, My Ruin
“We were alone when he proposed, and…well, I accepted, of course, and I know we should have rejoined the others straightaway, however—”
Thomson’s cheeks flared red, and Brynn could no longer even look at him. Her good sense was returning, and it was sorely disappointed in her. Not for lying about the proposal, exactly, but for admitting to the improper rendezvous and planting a lurid picture in Mr. Thomson’s astute mind. A picture that was, in all likelihood, entirely too factual for her comfort.
She flushed, her eyes catching on Eloise, who took her cue and rushed forward. “Isn’t it lovely news? I have hoped to have Lady Briannon as a sister-in-law ever since we were children playing in our gardens.”
Archer had not moved a muscle. He continued to stand with his back to Thomson, his eyes boring into the crown of Brynn’s head.
“My father would have been happy,” Eloise went on. “Despite the rumors of his own suit, he wanted only for his son’s happiness.” She reached for her handkerchief again, dabbing at the tears welling in her eyes. She had kept the veil up, Brynn noticed, and as Mr. Thomson glanced at her, he seemed to grow more agitated and uncomfortable.
“I am sorry for deceiving you,” Brynn said. “But as you may have already determined, it was a delicate situation this morning, what with my parents present and the announcement of our engagement not yet made. We could not say anything last night…not with how the evening ended.”
Mr. Thomson’s eyebrow rose in disbelieving surprise. He shifted his attention to Archer’s back. “Is this true, Your Grace?”
Archer held his statuesque stance, and Brynn noticed his hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists.
For a long, agonizing moment Archer withheld his answer. She feared the worst—that he would spin around and declare it all a lie. That he would make her look like a fool and out her as a desperate deceiver. Could he have been so utterly repulsed by her bold and ridiculous tale—all in an attempt to helphim? Her insides twisted, flashing hot and cold, until she thought she might see black stars cross her vision.
But then she felt his hand slip back into hers. It grounded her, his palm a shade warmer this time. “You dare question the lady’s integrity?” Archer’s voice was terse but resonant. His grip tightened to a near stranglehold as he turned to face Mr. Thomson, giving his back to Brynn now. She forced herself to breathe in a normal manner. “Of course it is true.”
Mr. Thomson cleared his throat. “Then why did you not say—”
“I am a gentleman. Risking the reputation of my betrothed simply to make nice with you is far beneath my character,” Archer said, his hand still encasing hers. “Really, I took you for a somewhat intelligent man, Thomson.”
Mr. Thomson nodded and wrote something in his little notebook. “I’m afraid I have taken up too much of your time today, Your Grace. May I be the first to congratulate you on your forthcoming nuptials. I will be in touch should anything arise.”
“Please, allow me to show you out,” Eloise said, glancing at her brother with a faint frown. “I’ll return shortly.”
Brynn didn’t exhale until Eloise and Mr. Thomson had disappeared from view and their footsteps had faded down the hallway, toward the front door.
Finally, Archer’s grip relaxed. He dropped her hand the way a scullery maid might drop a dead mouse. She took a few steps away while shaking out her numbed fingers, a sudden desire for self-preservation falling over her. Archer still had his back to her. She had yet to look into his eyes since announcing their engagement to the inquiry agent, but she sensed bridled anger emanating from his broad frame.
My god. What on earth have I done?
Brynn checked the library door, but Eloise had not returned. Nor would she, Brynn imagined, if the girl was wise. Brynn, too, wanted nothing more than to slink away toward the door without Archer turning to see her escape.
She held her place by a silk slipper chair. She had too much dignity to go slinking out of rooms.
“I can imagine what you must be thinking,” she began, needing to say something. Anything other than this silence and tension, building into something ugly and solid.
The wall of his back dissolved as he turned to face her. With a shaky breath, Brynn raised her eyes to his and braced herself for the onslaught of his anger.
Her preparation wasn’t enough.
The driving pressure of Archer’s stare pushed her back a step. Her legs hit the slipper chair and, without an ounce of grace, she plopped onto the cushion.
“You cannot begin to imagine what it is I am thinking,” he said, his voice lower than a growl. It sounded like thunder, trapped in a glass jar.
In that moment, Brynn could think only one thing—she had made a terrible,terriblemistake.
Chapter Seventeen
Archer stared at the tempestuous beauty before him, watching her chin hike an inch as she fought to stare him down. He struggled to control his rapidly swelling anger, along with another sharper sensation spreading through him at the welcome sight of her.
Brynn’s color was high, her chest falling and rising with each shallow breath. She had yet to remove her cloak and hat, and he wondered at Heed’s lack of duty.
Unless she had not entered through the front door and crossed Heed’s path.
Archer narrowed his gaze, but his mind was too occupied at the moment to consider anything other than the startling lie Brynn had just spouted off to Thomson and Eloise.
