“Why did you tell the innkeeper that I was your sister?” she asked in between bites of her dinner, a coy smile playing at her lips.
“I thought it would be easier to say that than explain the truth,” Brooks said as he cut into his steak. If he had to suffer through someone’s company at supper, the least he could do was enjoy the food.
“I suppose that makes sense,” August said thoughtfully. “I have just realized, though, that you know everything about my family, but I know nothing about yours except that you are a solicitor like your father before you. What about your mother? Is she still alive?”
Brooks nodded. “Yes, she’s still alive. I even live with her, unfortunately.”
August looked as if she was trying not to smile. “Unfortunately?” she echoed. “What a terrible thing to say! Do your wife and mother not get along? That can be the only explanation.” Brooks put his knife and fork down as he started to laugh. August glared at him. “What?”
He shook his head, picking up his knife and fork again. “That is a very sly way of asking me whether or not I am married,” he said.
She flushed. “Many men don’t wear rings, so I couldn’t be sure. Let me be more direct, then, if that’s what you prefer. Mr. Brooks, are you married?”
He shook his head. “No, I am not. The only Mrs. Brooks in my life is my mother, and her insistence on changing that is the only reason why living with her is unfortunate.”
She looked at him as if she didn’t quite understand, but why would she? She had not witnessed his parents’ marriage fall to shambles as he had. “Don’t you have any desire to take a wife?” August asked.
“None at all,” he said, shaking his head.
“Because you prefer to be a bachelor?”
She said bachelor as if she meant rake instead, but not all single men were poorly behaved oafs like Charles. He shook his head. “I prefer quiet solitude.”
She laughed at that. “Then I suppose a wife wouldn’t do. But what about children? Surely they are worth giving up some of your solitude.”
Children were part of the reason he would never marry. The idea of him becoming a father was comical when he had lived with such poor examples his entire life. He didn’t know the first thing about fatherhood. “I have no desire for children,” he said simply.
“I think I should like having my own family,” she replied with a dreamy sigh.
He very nearly rolled his eyes. But why not humor the girl’s dream? “Would you?” he asked with just the slightest hint of mockery.
She nodded, ignoring it. “I suppose when one grows up without one, it’s all you dream about for quite some time. I had long given up hope before you arrived.”
Holding his fork still, he looked up from his plate, eyes narrowing at her as he thought of all the ways he could have misconstrued her words. She must have realized them as well, for she flushed suddenly, then reached for her drink. “I only mean a man might be interested enough to marry me and have children with me now that I have money,” she quickly said, averting her gaze from his.
“Were they uninterested before?” he asked—a stupid, prying question. But he was curious if there was a man from her past. Perhaps there was one who rejected her due to her lack of funds or connections.
But she would not admit to anything. Her blush only deepened, and she shook her head much too wildly to be convincing. “There were none to be interested or uninterested.”
“Well, I do hope you’ll be discerning of London men,” he said, arching his brow at her.
“London men?” she asked, confused. “I thought I was going to Linfield Hall in Kent, not London.”
“You will go to London eventually,” Brooks explained. “Your father wishes you to be out in society. You will have a season like any other young lady your age.”
“But that’s a terrible idea! I do not know the first thing about polite society. I would think people in my father’s social circles would look down on people like the Dunns—and I was their governess before all this!”
“You will have to learn how to impress them enough to make them forget all that, then.” He paused a moment, watching August consider his words. “It’s what your father wants, and if you desire a family, going to London and finding a husband is a good place to start.”
August reluctantly nodded. A brief moment of silence passed. “You said I should be discerning of London men. Why?”
Brooks shrugged. “I am only trying to manage your expectations. You do have money now, and there will be plenty of charming men after it.”
“Like you?” He nearly dropped his fork, and she laughed. “Oh, I am only teasing.”
Still, he shook his head. “I will never marry. Unlike you, I find the idea of family vastly overrated.”
She did not respond at first, only carefully watched him. The way she looked at him made him uncomfortable. She regarded him as if she could see the real reason behind his aversion to marriage and family. As if she could see his disappointment and fear. But rather than call him out for his lies, she only nodded, smiled, and dipped her head to take another drink so he could more easily admire her eyelashes.
Her eyelashes. Brooks nearly rolled his eyes at his own ridiculousness. Instead, he put down his fork and dabbed his mouth with his napkin.
“Are you finished?” he asked. “Our rooms should be ready now. I would like to depart early tomorrow morning, so you ought to rest while you can.”
She nodded at him. The innkeeper led them upstairs, showing them to their rooms which were across from each other. All that separated them was two doors and a narrow hall. After the innkeeper left, they stood in their respective doorways, looking at each other. The glow of the fire from August’s room illuminated her from behind, creating a halo of light around her.
For a moment, he thought he might be losing his mind. “Good night,” he quickly said before he did anything foolish, firmly shutting the door behind him. He leaned against it when he was alone again, closing his eyes and sighing.
* * *
Brooks and August left early the following morning. They traveled all day again, and Brooks did his best to control his errant desires. When August asked if he would like her to read aloud to him, the answer was a resolute no, though that meant his head ached all day with little to distract him from the pain.
Although August tried not to act offended, she barely spoke to him afterward. Dinner was awkward, and Brooks was thankful to be so close to Linfield that they would arrive early tomorrow morning.
Although the large brick house had failed to impress him for many years, August looked at Linfield Hall with awe when it finally came into view. She gasped as soon as she saw it through the carriage window, and when she looked back at him, her eyes were as wide as an owl’s. “I have never seen such a large house!” she exclaimed.
Charles was there to greet them as soon as they stepped out of the carriage, and Brooks was pleased to find his appearance had improved since he last saw him. With it only being mid-morning, his valet must have just dressed him. But instead of his typical relaxed demeanor, Charles stood like a soldier about to go to war. When the two weary travelers approached him, he regarded August as if she smelled and Brooks as if he was a traitor.
All was as Brooks expected.
“Have we made it on time?” Brooks asked.
Charles nodded once. “Yes,” he said without feeling. “He is still alive.”
Brooks gestured toward August, and Charles regarded her with an air of both superiority and disinterest. Suddenly, Brooks dreaded leaving her there. He cleared his throat. “Allow me to introduce your half sister, Charles.” The once crisp morning air suddenly felt thick and oppressive. “August, this your brother, Charles.”
August attempted something that looked like a curtsey, while Charles offered only a slight bow of the head. Brooks could feel his friend’s displeasure radiating from every gesture and look he gave him or August. “I trust your journey was pleasant, and fathe
r’s solicitor acted as a fine enough escort,” Charles said to August.
She nodded. “Indeed, sir, on both accounts. I am so happy to meet you finally.”
Brooks felt his temper flare when her brother could only nod in response. There was no happiness on his end, and they all knew it. “I will take you to see Father, then,” Charles said, turning on his heel and walking toward the house, the gravel crunching beneath his boots. August was the first to go after him, Brooks following in disbelief a short time afterward.
“Where are your mother and sister?” Brooks asked as they followed Charles up the stairs. Usually, he could hear their chatter from the morning room at this time of day as they ate their breakfast, but the house was silent. The footmen, meanwhile, seemed to cower whenever Charles walked past them.
“They spent the night at Sedgewick Park,” Charles asked.
Sedgewick Park was the neighboring estate that belonged to Robert Kendall, now known as the Duke of Rutley ever since his father died ten years ago. Charles and Rutley remained friends into adulthood, enjoying the same types of debauchery even after the duke became engaged to Rosamund. Rutley and his treatment of Rosamund was another reason Charles and Brooks grew apart.
“Do they normally do that?” Brooks asked, furrowing his brow. It didn’t make sense that they would leave when Lord Bolton was so ill.
Charles shrugged. “From time to time. I think they grow tired of my company on occasion.” Brooks could guess what that meant. Charles must have drunk himself into a stupor after his father revealed his secret. He hoped Rosamund and Lady Bolton were all right, especially since he did not think of Rutley any more highly than Charles. “None of us were sure when you would be back, though my father finally revealed the reason behind your abrupt departure yesterday morning.”
“Only yesterday morning?” Brooks asked, annoyed. He did not dare look at August to see her reaction. Meanwhile, Charles nodded.
“We were all shocked, as you can imagine,” he said. “Naturally, I poured myself a drink to relax, and my mother and sister left soon after that.”
Brooks and August exchanged a look as they reached the second-floor landing. He had mentioned vice, hadn’t he? She turned away, and he frowned, wondering what she was thinking.
They followed Charles further down the hall, and Brooks could hear coughing coming from the direction of Bolton’s room. When Charles opened the door and ushered them inside, the earl was in the same position as when Brooks had left him.
“Brooks?” he asked. “Is that you? Have you brought August?”
“I have,” Brooks responded without looking at him, his eyes fixated on August, who stood in front of him. Her fingers trembled at her side, and he watched as she clenched and unclenched her fists. He turned and looked at Charles, who remained motionless by the door.
Sighing, Brooks stepped forward, looping his arm under August’s. She looked up at him, her brow creased and mouth slightly open from surprise. He offered his best reassuring nod, and she turned forward again, her face no calmer than before, but she allowed him to bring her to her father’s bedside anyway.
“Oh!” Lord Bolton exclaimed, the thin skin around his sunken eyes crinkling as he smiled. “She is beautiful! Is she not beautiful, Brooks?”
Brooks did not answer, only tried to smile while letting go of August and slowly backing away, rejoining Charles by the door. They watched from afar as the young woman took a seat beside the bed and exchanged pleasantries with her father. Charles turned to Brooks, whose eyes remained fixed on August.
“I must speak to you alone,” Charles said, dipping his head slightly, his words demanding but quiet. Brooks reluctantly met his gaze.
“Should we leave her here alone with him? What if—”
“We shall give you your privacy,” Charles announced to his father and sister, interrupting the quiet protestations of his friend. Brooks glared at him, but August seemed unperturbed by their leaving, looking up at him and smiling. Brooks reluctantly followed his friend down to his father’s study, and Charles immediately went to the sideboard, pouring himself a glass of brandy with a shaking hand.
“How long have you known about her?” he asked, not bothering to ask if Brooks wanted a drink. He moved behind the desk where Brooks once hid all those years ago. He took a swig of brandy and then slammed the crystal glass down on the desk, the remaining liquid threatening to spill over the rim of the glass and onto his father’s papers.
Brooks sighed, placing a hand on his hip. “I believe it was almost three years ago. My father asked me to find a governess position for the earl’s daughter. You can imagine my confusion when I thought he meant Rosamund until he explained that no, there was another one.” The room fell silent, and Brooks and Charles stared at each other. Brooks eventually continued. “You must understand why I could not tell you. Your father was a client, and I was handling his private business.”
This explanation did not suffice for Charles. “But I am your best friend, and that stranger is my sister. I deserved to know!”
Brooks scoffed. “Oh, Charles, you and I have not been best friends for a long time. Not since before we both went to Oxford.”
Charles glared at him without speaking, angrily picking up his glass again and taking another drink. He finished the remainder of what he poured only a moment ago with one loud gulp, moving to the sideboard for more. Brooks groaned when he heard the pop of a cork.
“And this is why we have not been best friends for a long time,” he complained. “You overreact. You drink. I had almost forgotten how tiring it all was! No wonder your mother and sister went to Sedgewick Park. I almost think I even prefer Rutley to you now.”
Charles turned to look at Brooks, pointing at himself while waving his drink-carrying hand at Brooks, spilling some of the amber liquid onto the carpeted floor. “You think I am overreacting? My father just gave away part of my inheritance to that girl. Twelve thousand pounds! Twelve thousand pounds! Do you even understand how much money that is?”
As his former friend’s voice became more and more shrill, Brooks involuntarily flinched as he recalled his father’s drunken rages. Charles took a deep breath, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink. “Don’t you have any sway over him as a solicitor?” he asked, squinting at Brooks, who remained unmoving throughout Charles’s entire outburst. “Couldn’t you have talked him out of it? Surely you think he’s acting foolish as well!”
Brooks sighed. The answer was yes, but August didn’t deserve Charles’s anger when it was their father’s decision. “You should give your sister a chance,” Brooks said. “I think you might find you actually like her, and I don’t believe she means to cause you any more trouble than she already has.”
Charles shook his head. “You do not understand,” he said, his voice cracking as if he might cry. “I need that money he has given her.”
“Charles—”
“I need it, Brooks!” he shouted, throwing his half-filled glass at the wood-paneled wall of his father’s study. The glass shattered, amber liquid spilling onto the wall and floor. Crystal shards, large and small, lay scattered across the carpet.
“Have you lost your mind?” Brooks asked in horror.
Charles ran his hands through his hair. “There are certain debts that I promised to pay when I gained control of the estate’s coffers. Now I am not sure I will have it all without mortgaging the estate.”
“Debts to whom?” Brooks asked, furrowing his brow. Charles appeared reluctant to answer before mumbling a response he couldn’t hear. Brooks rolled his eyes. “For God’s sake, Charles, you were shouting well enough before. Speak up!”
“The duke!” Charles exclaimed.
Brooks stared at him for a moment, not quite believing his ears. “As in the Duke of Rutley?”
“Do not look so surprised, Brooks. He was always the one accompanying me to every card room at every party and club. Neither one of us could ever say no to a game of cards, but he was always the luc
ky one. I was not.” Charles sighed. “The man has covered my losses on more than one occasion, believing I would be able to pay him back once I controlled Linfield. He even agreed that Rosamund’s dowry could go toward the total amount, but now she wants to end the engagement. I won’t let her, though, no matter how much she complains.”
“Rosamund doesn’t want to marry Rutley anymore?” Brooks asked, furrowing his brow. Rosamund had wanted to marry Rutley since she was thirteen years old and decided he was the most handsome man she would ever know.
Charles nodded, placing his hands on his hips. “She has grown to be so spoiled and selfish. I hope my new sister isn’t like that.”
“Rosamund is spoiled and selfish?” Brooks echoed in disbelief. “Your family has lost a great deal of money due to your irresponsibility. How much do you owe the man?” Charles mumbled something again. Brooks groaned. “Speak up, Charles. This family will be entirely your responsibility any day now. How much is it?”
“Twenty thousand pounds!”
Brooks grew pale. No wonder Charles did not want August to have any of her inheritance. Unable to look at his friend any longer, he turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” Charles asked.
Brooks stopped. “I am going to check on your father and sister. I can think of nothing productive to say to you right now.”
“Then you should know Father wishes for us to call her Lady August—as in Lady August Finch. What a joke! Our family will be the laughingstock of London this season.”
Brooks did not respond, leaving Charles to drink alone in his study.
Chapter Seven
August had imagined what it would be like to meet her parents for as long as she could remember. None of what she envisioned compared to sitting by Lord Bolton’s side at Linfield Hall. She hadn’t been lying when she told Brooks that her father’s home was the largest house she had ever seen.
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