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 gossip 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."