Chapter Twenty-Two

A silver button flew through the air and hit Bronwyn on the top of her shoulder.

"Ow." She rubbed her upper arm and glared at her best friend. Emma's dart-throwing skills meant she was extremely accurate and never missed her intended target. The metal button would leave a mark. Typical Emma. Her friend lived by the adage actions speak louder than words. Bronwyn sighed. Emma was right. It was time for Bronwyn to seek out her dad and receive the mark of a PORF.

"Will ye stop yer day dreamin' and help me out." Emma huffed, and a bolt of shimmering silver material landed on the cutting table before Bronwyn.

Bronwyn winced as she stretched out her arm to reach for the edge of the material. She had arrived back in town three days ago. Her first day back, Emma allowed her to remain abed and weep. But on the second, before the first rays of light hit the ground, Emma had hauled Bronwyn out of bed and set her to work sorting buttons. It had taken three hours of monotonous labor and soul searching for Bronwyn to admit she didn't want an annulment. At a loss for what action to take next, Bronwyn had spent the rest of the day performing whatever mindless task Emma set for her.

Bronwyn unwound the material and aligned it against the yardstick. "What will you make out of this?"

"A gown, ye goose." Emma stood back with the shears in her hand. "Wot are ye goin' to do?"

"As soon as you've cut the silk loose, I'll pin the pattern."

"I'm not talkin' about the blasted gown." Emma shook her head. "Did gettin' hitched make ye daft?"

Glaring at her best friend, Bronwyn retorted, "Who ye callin' daft?" She was clearly at her wit's end, for her brash cockney accent had returned. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her thoughts and said, "You don't understand. Landon needs…"

"Bronwyn Cadby Neale." Emma snipped a slit into the material. "Ye can just stop yer blathering right now." The sharp blades snapped together, punctuating Emma's statement. "It's been three days, and ye have yet to come to ye senses." She ran the sharp shears down the material, slicing it away from the bolt. "I'll tell ye, I've considered knocking ye over the head with the chamber pot a time or two, to see if it'll help. But I think it better I use me words this time." Emma stuck her shears into her apron and put her hands on her hips. "Me best friend is no coward. This time tell me the truth—why did ye leave Lord Archbroke's estate in the middle of supper?"

Bronwyn blinked. She'd never mentioned to Emma the details of her departure. The blasted Network rumor mill was far too efficient. Grabbing the pattern that laid next to the table, she began pinning the translucent paper to the glorious silver silk. She wasn't ready to admit the truth: she had run away like a peagoose.

Emma crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "If ye won't tell me, I'll tell ye wot I think."

Bronwyn pricked her finger as she mumbled, "I'm sure nothing will stop you either."

"Ye are bleedin', step away from me gown afore you ruin it." Emma rounded the table and, with her hip bumped Bronwyn out of the way. "Ye've never been good at needlepoint, but ye are smart, hardworking, and generous. And I'll tell ye, that's wot Lord Hadfield needs." Spinning the material around to affix the pattern to the other side, Emma paused and then added, "Wot do ye see in the mirror when ye look into one?"

Finally, a question Bronwyn was able to answer. "A woman with mouse brown hair, blue eyes, and of average looks."

Emma rolled her eyes. "That's not wot I see when I look at ye."

"Oh, really. Don't let me stop you. Pray tell, what do you see, Ms. Lennox?" The devil in Bronwyn spurred her to address her best friend by her formal name, knowing that Emma hated it.

"I see Countess Hadfield."

Touché. No one but Emma could get the best of Bronwyn.

Bronwyn conceded. "I'm not like the ladies Landon considers worthy to call close friends. Theo is brilliant, Mary is unique, and Lady Lucy, well, all the blasted rumors of how delightful and daring she is are all well and true." She leaned against the table and continued, "I'll tell you who I used to see in the looking glass. A Network elder's daughter, who wanted only to prove to everyone that she was worthy to succeed her dad and hold a seat at the council table."

"Ye were always too smart for ye own good." Placing the lid on the pins, Emma tugged Bronwyn over to the sitting area and plopped onto the settee. "Ye don't think I too worry about the day I'm to take me mum's place? That I don't wonder if I'm worthy of sittin' at the council table. I'm not smart like ye. I'm a darn seamstress. How do I know wot is best for the Network? But it is a great honor to represent one's family, and I'll muddle along. At least I'll have ye there next to me. Wait, if ye are a PORF, will ye still be on the council? Oh Gawd, don't say Harold will be sittin' next to me instead."

Bronwyn couldn't contain her laughter at Emma's appalled expression. "Don't worry, I'll be by your side at the council table—not representing the Cadby family but as a PORF." Wrapping her arms about her best friend, Bronwyn said, "You are too clever by half, and you don't even know it, Emma Lennox. I've been overthinking the matter. My heart belongs to one man, and I'm honored to be his wife. As for the rest, I'll follow your lead and simply muddle through it all. And as long as I have your aid and support, all will be well."

"Ye're daft to ask. I support ye, not because I pledged an oath, but because ye are the most amazing lady I know."

Bronwyn smiled and arched a brow. "Really? What of Theo or Mary or Lady Lucy or Lady Grace?"

With a pointed look, Emma replied, "I've seen all of them naked, inside and out. None of them are as perfect as ye believe them to be." Emma tilted her head and grinned. "Hmm… I reckon they are more like ye than me, tough on the outside but pure mush on the inside."

"And what are you?" Bronwyn teased.

"Aww… ye know, I'm hard on the outside and in. I've no time for love, which is wot turned all of ye ladies to mush."

"Emma Lennox, you're brilliant!"

Love had been Bronwyn's downfall. Not her love for Landon, but her lack of respect and care for herself. She needed to be the best person she could be, not what she thought others required her to be. Squeezing Emma's hand, Bronwyn said, "You know, the next time I see my reflection in a looking glass, I'll be seeing an entirely different person."

Peyton peeked out from the backroom and brought in a tray of tea and biscuits. She looked to Bronwyn and asked, "Should I go and prepare for our return home?"

"Aye." Bronwyn reached for the teapot, but Emma grasped the handle first.

"I think Willa and I will enjoy a nice cup of tea while ye pay a visit to yer dad." Emma poured two cups of tea and motioned for Peyton to join her. Glancing at Bronwyn, Emma said, "Make sure ye choose a spot that won't interfere with me designs."

Bronwyn rose and said, "Aye, Ms. Lennox. I'll do just that."

Peyton giggled. "She's been practicing that hoity-toity voice those ladies use."

"By Jove, I reckon Bronwyn's managed to master it. Five shillings says she'll master the rest."

"I'll not be givin' you me hard-earned money." Peyton raised her teacup to her lips with her little finger sticking straight out.

"I'm still standing here," Bronwyn said.

Emma and Peyton clicked teacups and laughed. After a long moment, her best friend wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "Give yer family me regards. And tell yer mum I'll not miss Sunday dinner this week. Now that I've rid meself of me guests, I'll be free again."

Dismissed by Emma, Bronwyn stomped to the door. Once she received the mark, would Emma dare to treat her the same? Bronwyn certainly hoped so, for who else would ensure she had her head screwed on the right way? The bell tinkled as Bronwyn left Emma's store. Intending to walk to her dad's store, she startled when Larry appeared in front of her. The footman motioned to a coach, which bore the Archbroke crest.

Bronwyn accepted Larry's assistance and stepped into the coach. Facing her cousin-in-law, she asked, "How long have you been out here waiting?"

"A while." Theo shifted to make room for Bronwyn on the forward-facing seat. "Where to, Lady Bronwyn?"

Theo had called her by her title, which meant she was not in the woman's good graces. "I was on my way to my dad's shop." Settling on to the cushioned bench, Bronwyn was oddly relieved to have Theo accompany her. "Does Landon know you are here?"

"Your husband is aware of your whereabouts."

Theo neatly evaded her question and answered the one Bronwyn had wanted to ask.

Theo smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles from her gown. "Landon arrived in London a few hours after you. Unfortunately, it took Archbroke a whole day to settle Prinny's feathers enough to convince the man to leave so we too could be here in town for you." Theo leaned out the window and yelled, "Cadby's."

Once the coach was in full motion, Bronwyn asked, "How did your husband calm the Prince Regent?"

"Archbroke can be extremely persuasive if he chooses to. Plus, after we discussed the matter, Archbroke had no qualms settling matters with the Prince Regent." Theo patted Bronwyn's arm and then settled her hands in her lap.

Confused by Theo's comforting gesture, Bronwyn asked, "But how?"

Theo drew back the window curtain and peered out onto the crowded street. Bronwyn's dad's shop wasn't far, but the coach was barely moving. "Hereditary peers will always hold a majority seat…"

"Peers? What does the number of hereditary peers have to do with my marriage to Landon?"

Theo swiveled to face her. "Nothing. But it is the reason why Prinny decided to invite himself to stay at Archbroke manor."

Fustian. Bronwyn wanted to smack herself with a chamber pot. Christopher had harped on at her endlessly for making assumptions before completing a full inquiry. Head bowed, Bronwyn said, "I'm sorry for leaving and disrupting your lovely supper."

Bronwyn waited for a lecture, but Theo reached for her hand. "You must promise to never leave in darkness again. You had me terribly worried. We were all worried until we received word from Mrs. Barnwell that you were safe. Landon, especially."

"He knows I've been staying with Emma?"

"Of course; he'd not leave you unprotected."

"But I…"

"You needed time." Theo squeezed her hand tightly. "Landon understands." The coach came to a complete stop. Her cousin's kind and concerned eyes searched Bronwyn's face. "Would you like for me to accompany you inside? Landon shared his experience receiving the mark. It did not sound at all pleasant."

"My dad has placed the PORF mark upon all the ladies who have married into the line. It is said to be nothing compared to childbirth." Bronwyn eyed Theo's rounded stomach. "But if you would like to stay and keep my mum company while I receive the mark, so she doesn't worry overly much, I'd appreciate it."

With a nod, Theo stood and exited the coach. As Larry assisted Bronwyn, Theo said, "Landon is like a brother rather than a cousin to me. I know you already have three younger sisters, but I've never had a sister, and I'd be honored if you would..."

Bronwyn hugged Theo in front of all and sundry on the front stoop of her dad's shop, not caring that it was a breach of etiquette. "I've always wanted an older sister." Grinning from ear to ear, Bronwyn led Theo around the back to the family entrance. They were immediately greeted and engulfed by multiple arms. Her mum, brothers, and sisters all took a turn embracing Bronwyn and then their newest member to the family, Theo.

Bronwyn obediently followed her dad into the backroom of the store where his tools were hidden. She sat in the same chair Landon had when he received the mark and carefully arranged her skirts. The silence ate away at her courage.

Instruments and ink at the ready, her dad asked, "Where would you like for me to place the mark?"

Emma's taunting words echoed through her mind. Bronwyn smirked and pointed to the spot where the button had hit her shoulder—it would be a test for Emma to design dresses and gowns that would hide her mark, but her best friend would rise to the challenge.

Her dad didn't challenge her decision, merely looked at her with wide eyes and shook his head. "Ye're a stubborn one." He poured a dark amber liquid into a glass. "But I love ye." Her dad handed her the tumbler and said, "Here, drink this before I start."

An hour later, a slightly tipsy Bronwyn descended the stairs. She was officially a PORF. Oddly, she didn't feel any different. She slumped to the kitchen bench and rested her head on her arms.

Her dad said, "Tell her husband we'll watch over her tonight and tend to her bandages."

It was good to know she was still welcome under her parents' roof. She'd go home on the morrow, as soon as the world stopped spinning.