Bronwyn nodded.
“Very well. So be it.” Mary grinned. “Gilbert, you will carry Lady Bronwyn into the castle and ensure she is settled in the drawing room. I’ll distract Landon.”
Bronwyn had a sinking feeling that she had made an enormous error.
Chapter Fourteen
Seated at Waterford’s monstrosity of a desk, Landon traced a finger over the boyishly formed letters. G. E. T. He pictured a younger version of his friend Gilbert Elliot Talbot carving his initials into the tabletop. An ornate silver candlestick holder sat to the right of the markings. Landon picked up his quill to complete his response to Christopher’s inquiry as to when he and Bronwyn would be returning to town. But the words he should be penning were not in alignment with his wishes. For the first time in his life, he wanted to ignore his responsibilities and lay abed all day with his wife. A glint of sunlight reflected off the silver candleholder. It was situated in the most unlikely of spots to provide adequate lighting. He picked up the candleholder and revealed freshly carved initials: MEMT. Mary Eloise Masterson Talbot. Setting the candleholder back down off to the side, he traced the letters marked into the wood. Was Waterford as bewitched with his wife as Landon found himself with his?
At the fall of heavy, booted footsteps and the patter of slippers from the hall, Landon shoved the candleholder back to its original spot. The door swished open. Mary strode in, came to an abrupt halt inches shy of the desk, and planted her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you ensure that your wife had an escort while wandering about the estate?”
Landon put quill to paper and scribbled a hasty reply to Christopher. He signed his name, leaned back, and steepled his fingers beneath his chin.
Mary glared at him as she stood in front of the desk. “Well?”
Landon peered around Mary. “Where is your husband?”
“About.” Mary waved her hand dismissively and then replaced it upon her hip. “You will not be rid of me until I have an answer.”
He wanted to be in his wife’s company. He missed her. Although anxious to see Bronwyn again, he’d have to deal with Mary first. He arched a brow and said, “What would you do if Waterford commanded a retinue follow you about morn, noon and night?”
The woman’s shoulders sagged. “I’d tell him he was ridiculously overprotective.”
“Not that I need to explain or justify my actions to you, but the grounds are patrolled. There have been no reported threats since we arrived. Besides, I sensed Bronwyn wished for a bit of time to herself. Thus, I gave the order to give her a wide berth. Why are you here?”
“I was advised I was needed here.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I believe it best if I left the explanations to your wife.”
Was Bronwyn that upset?
Landon sat forward. “Did she send for you?”
“Not in the typical fashion.”
Landon stood, and Mary averted her gaze.
He considered whether or not to press her for more information. Had Mary’s sources insinuated that Bronwyn was unhappy? Did Bronwyn regret marrying him? Afraid of the answers, Landon turned and strode to the door. He stood to the side and waited for Mary to join him, but she remained unmoving.
“Shall we join our spouses? I assume they are waiting for us in the drawing room.”
“Aren’t you going to subject me to one of your cross-examinations?”
“Did you not suggest I seek the answers directly from Bronwyn?”
Mary sighed and proceeded to walk toward him. “I did.” Stopping inches from him, she turned and said, “She has yet to realize how important she is to you and the Network.”
As usual, Mary spoke the truth. He shouldn’t have assumed Bronwyn understood the value she could provide, having an intimate knowledge of the inner workings of the Network, but most importantly, he had failed to tell her he loved her.
Mary entered the hallway and was approached by Duncan, who bent to whisper in his mistress’s ear.
“Thank you for the update.” Mary faced Landon and said, “Bronwyn has twisted her ankle. Duncan assures me no broken bones, but a few days of rest will be required.”
His wife was hurt. Blood drained from his face.
Running to the drawing-room, he rushed to Bronwyn’s side. He crouched down to take a look at her injury. “Love, how did this happen?”
Mary slapped his hand away from his wife’s ankle. “Stop fawning over her in front of company.” Landon didn’t miss the mischievous grin Mary gave her husband as she added, “You are behaving like a besotted fool.”
Ignoring his host, he carefully touched Bronwyn’s bandaged foot. “Does it hurt?”
“Not at all. Lord Waterford did a splendid job of wrapping it.” Bronwyn removed her foot from his grasp and laid it back upon a tall pile of pillows.
He peered over at Waterford. Something was amiss. If Mary had only learned of the mishap, how had Waterford attended to her injury so swiftly?
“Lady Mary advised me that you have somehow inadvertently summoned her home. What is the matter in which you need Mary’s aid and not mine?”
Bronwyn sat up straighter. “You, husband, are not a lady. I require etiquette lessons before I return to London. I do not wish to embarrass you in front of your friends and peers.”
As her words sank in, his heart soared with hope. His wife had not only asked for assistance, but she had also finally voiced one of the fears he had suspected lurked behind her original refusal to marry him. He’d not deny her request and set their progress back. He loved the bold, wonderful woman who was glowering at him. Landon smiled.
“Oh, don’t try to distract me with that dimple of yours. I’m serious.” Bronwyn raised her chin.
Her eyes never left his. This was the woman he had fantasized about for two years. Brazen, matter of fact, and logical—absolutely magnificent—proving his belief Bronwyn was the ideal woman for him.
Mary came to stand next to him. “Countess Hadfield, it would be my honor to assist you in any manner you request.”
“Please, call me Bronwyn.”
“Absolutely not.” Mary shook her head and grinned at his bewildered wife.
Mary was a wily one.
Landon’s gaze darted between the two women, who continued to glare at one another. Bronwyn’s initial shock was gone, and Mary’s smile had a devilish quality he’d not seen before. He had anticipated the two women would get along like kindred spirits, but there they were, engaged in what appeared to be a battle of wills much like his own with Bronwyn. Who would break the silence first? While he was curious to find out, a distinct chill had descended upon the room. Landon coughed to clear his throat. He turned to Waterford and said, “Let’s adjourn to the study.”
Waterford exited the room without a word; the man needed no further encouragement to leave. As Landon crossed the threshold, he glanced over his shoulder. He trusted Mary's judgment, but without knowledge of her plan, he worried his wife might not survive the cutting wit Mary could employ if she desired.
He caught up to Waterford in the hall. “Did you not find our wives' behavior odd?”
“Mary? Odd? Never.” Waterford scoffed.
“Who do you think will win the war?”
Duncan appeared with a silver coin balanced on the tip of his thumb. The butler flipped the shilling into the air. “Heads it will be my mistress, tails Countess Hadfield.”
Landon caught the coin midair. “Do you truly believe it a coin toss?”
“Lady Mary may be a duke’s daughter and highly regarded amongst your set, but Lady Bronwyn has always been regarded as a leader among us. You have merely made it official.”
“My hope is Bronwyn will come to view herself as you and I do.”
“While my mistress has only been introduced to the workings of the Network for a year, Lady Mary is a quick study, remarkably kind and sage. Her methods may be unorthodox, but if anyone can instruct your wife on how best to handle the sharp claws and harsh gos
sip of the ton, it will be Lady Mary.”
Landon opened his palm to reveal the coin. Tails. Was that a good or a bad sign?
Bronwyn broke down first and asked, “Would you care to explain why you will not address me by my given name?”
“I’d be honored to.” Mary sank into the chair opposite to Bronwyn. “I shall be more than happy to address you as you wish just as soon as you can refrain from making that awful, shrewish face whenever someone addresses you by the title and station you hold.”
“That’s ridiculous. I never make faces.”
“Oh, but you do. Until you can master plastering an all-too-sweet smile upon your pretty features in any situation, I shall address you as Countess Hadfield.”
Bronwyn attempted to school her features into her best angelic impression. “Ugh. What if I gave you an order not to?”
“I shall have to suffer the consequences.” Mary winked at Bronwyn and then moved to sit next to her on the settee. “You say you want to learn how to go about in society. But I say there is no need. You should be true to yourself.” Her hostess grabbed her hand in a friendly gesture and squeezed her hand. “Landon doesn’t care a fig about the opinions of the ton. He cares about his duties to the Crown and the safety of those within the Network. Landon is no fool. He chose you, and for a good reason.”
“Not for love.” The words had tumbled out of Bronwyn’s mouth before she even gave it thought.
Mary waved a hand wildly in the air. “Bah. He loves you even if he hasn’t said the words. Men are slow to confess.” Mary patted her hand. “Have you fallen in love with him?”
“I fell in love with him when he was a barrister.” Like moments before, she had spoken without thought or hesitation. Mary wasn’t like the other society ladies who had meekly followed their husbands into the office of Neale & Sons. Bronwyn confided, “I’m not sure I can be the wife Landon needs me to be now that he is....”
“You are the head PORF’s wife. The members of the Network will seek your approval, not the other way around. As the Countess of Hadfield, you shall receive invitations to the most sought-after events, routs, musicales, balls, garden parties…” Mary paused to inhale. “Card parties, water parties, soirees…you understand. However, I anticipate before long you will be the one setting trends much like the Duchess of Fairmont.”
“She’s a duchess. I’m a shopkeeper’s daughter who masqueraded as a legal assistant.”
“Lady Dorinda wasn’t always a duchess. But the woman wields her power with such grace one would never believe she hadn’t been born and raised to rule.”
“How does she do it?”
“Countess Hadfield.”
Bronwyn relaxed every muscle in her forehead.
Mary continued, “It matters not how Lady Dorinda manages. It only matters how you shall tackle the responsibilities of your position.”
“Well, I’m glad I have you to assist me.”
“I hope you will still be of the same mind tomorrow.”
Chapter Fifteen
Fingers interlocked and head cradled in his hands, Landon stared up at the ceiling. If Mary was successful in her lessons, he’d end up with a wife he had no interest in. Meek, obedient, docile—those were definitely not the traits he wished Bronwyn to exhibit. His wife’s bold fiery nature was one of her greatest assets. And if he wanted obedience, he’d purchase a hound, not expect it of his wife.
Mary was welcomed into the most elite circles, and Landon didn’t question Mary’s knowledge on the subject. However, he couldn’t recall a time when Mary herself had heeded all the ridiculous rules she’d imparted during her etiquette lessons with Bronwyn.
Each night Bronwyn returned to their chambers in a state of pure flummox. His wife would stand at the end of the bed, hands on her hips, and in her best imitation of Mary, recite the day's lesson. Landon would listen to the preposterous rule and then proceed to expel the horrid concept from her mind. He had learned the first evening that simply informing his wife to ignore the crazed lessons would not work. Bronwyn had insisted she must master these lessons. So each night, he resolved to teach her why it was essential not to abide by the strictures, especially in bed. Yesterday’s lesson that a lady should defer to her husband in all matters had required an extraordinary amount of patience on his part to exorcise the ideal. Finally, with the first streaks of light coming in through the thick window coverings, Bronwyn had taken command of their lovemaking and rode him hard until she found her pleasure.
Landon hugged his exhausted wife’s limp form close. She was magnificent. But what he loved most was her sharp mind and unwavering determination. How was he to explain to her that these rules did not apply to her?
He had two options, put a cease to the lessons or instruct Mary to teach Bronwyn how to best navigate around the rules. Landon grinned as he ran his fingers through his wife’s hair. Mary was a master at circumventing the rules. He’d see to it that Mary assisted Bronwyn to do the same, but one couldn’t evade a rule if one didn’t know it existed. He finally saw the wisdom in Bronwyn’s insistence in learning all the blasted guidelines a lady should follow in the name of good manners.
Bronwyn’s sleepy eyes blinked open. “Do you often watch me slumber?”
“I think best when you are near.”
“I’m too tired this morn to spar with you.”
Landon wrapped Bronwyn’s tresses about his finger. “Should I have Peyton inform Mary that you will skip lessons today?”
“Absolutely not.” His wife bolted upright and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her long brown waves swished back and forth against the pale skin of her soft back as she twisted about.
“What are you searching for, wife?”
“My shift.”
Admiring the view, he kept silent as Bronwyn stood and turned to rifle through the bedclothes. She placed her hands on her hips. “Do you happen to know where it is, my lord?”
The flush across her chest had his hands itching to reach out for her. He reluctantly paused his admiration of her glorious body. “I might.” He grinned.
Bronwyn’s eyes focused on the spot on his cheek where his blasted dimple resided. “You might. Was it not you who once said that evasiveness merely results in prolonged cross-examination?” Crawling on to the bed, Bronwyn tugged away the coverlet and sheets that kept him warm.
“I don’t recall having said that. However, it does make sense.”
Seated on her heels, her knees barely touching his side, Bronwyn lowered her gaze inch by inch until it landed upon his fully aroused member. It wasn’t her glorious body that had blood rushing to his groin. It was the wordplay that had him at the ready.
Bronwyn raised her curious eyes to his. “How is it you never tire? You claim to have a lung condition, yet I am the one left breathless.”
“Mayhap your attentions have healed me. Would you care to test my hypothesis?” Landon replaced his hands back behind his head, unwilling to negate the progress he had made the night before. His cock twitched, drawing his wife’s attention. She shifted, her brown tresses flowing down her back—tempting him.
Bronwyn ran a hand straight down from his navel to cup his testicles and rolled them in her palm. Looking over her shoulder, she asked, “Do you or do you not know where my shift is?”
He cleared his throat. “I do.”
Bending over him, lowered herself until her mouth was mere inches from the tip of his shaft. “If I let you have your way with me, will you tell me where it is?” She circled the head of his cock with her tongue.
With a groan, he replied, “I’ll give it to you this minute if that is what you wish. I’ll not delay you if you wish to leave.”
“And what about you…your discomfort?”
“Wife, I’ve seen to it many a time. Do you wish to leave?”
Bronwyn took him into her mouth. He pressed his head further into his palms, preventing him from threading his fingers in her hair. Their first night of marriage, he had managed to l
earn many of Bronwyn’s preferences. Stroking and tugging upon her hair was one of her favorites.
At the swirl of her tongue, he let out a low moan. He couldn’t take any more without having his hands on her. He reached for her hips and shimmied under her, positioning her pretty, wet slit in front of him. A hand on each hip, he licked at her center. He started with long strokes of his tongue and progressed to circling and flicking her until her hips began to rotate. Her moans of delight set the pace for how fast or slow he moved his tongue over her.
Sliding one hand along her side, he reached between them to cup her breast and play with her nipple. Bronwyn continued to glide her mouth up and down his shaft, altering the pressure of her lips and how deep she would swallow him. His own hips jerked forward as his body sought release, but first, he needed to ensure his wife reached satisfaction. Gripping her bottom, he inched a finger closer to his mouth. His forefinger slid into her channel while his tongue flickered over her core. Bronwyn released him as she gasped. She was close. He kneaded her breast, and he continued to pump his finger as Bronwyn took him back into her mouth. If he pinched her nipple or tugged on her hair, she would reach her peak. He had played extensively with her nipples the night before, so he released his hold on her breast and wrapped his wrist and hand in her long tresses. Pressure mounted in his loins, and he reactively tugged on Bronwyn’s hair. Her muscles immediately tightened about his finger, and he ejaculated into her mouth. He untangled his hand from her hair and ran his hand along her spine.
“Hmm.” Bronwyn collapsed onto her side. “Perhaps I’ll have to adjust the order of my preferences.”
Chuckling, Landon retrieved his wife’s flimsy shift from under his pillow and placed it against her hip.
Bronwyn grabbed her shift. “Lady Mary is going to have my head. A lady must be neither too early nor late. Punctuality dictates if one will receive an intimate invitation to tea or dinner rather than an invitation along with the masses to a ball or soiree.” She pulled the shift overhead and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
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