“Come with me.” He took her hand as though that was the most natural thing in the world. It did not even feel strange to slip her fingers in his though it did make her stomach punch and her breath feel a little shaky. He led her out of the woods and into the fields, following a path that she had never taken before until they merged out onto a sunny spot of land that was free from the shade of trees or the view of farmhouses and buildings.
“This is another of my favorite spots,” he explained.
“I am on Waverley land here, am I not?”
“You are. You should not be discovered. No one comes here except me.”
Chloe pursed her lips. “So I’m on enemy territory. Should I be concerned for my welfare?”
“I think you’re more likely to get yourself into trouble without my help.”
“Perhaps,” she conceded.
Slipping off his jacket, he laid it on the grass and motioned for her to sit. He sat beside her and pushed up his shirtsleeves. She glanced at his forearms which were lightly dusted with hair and his veins flexed as he moved his fingers. She had never studied a man’s arms before but Brook’s were infinitely fascinating for some reason.
She glanced away when he looked toward her. Hopefully he had not noticed her interest. She was all too aware that this man held all the power. He was known for being a charmer and a rake and she was known for…well liking books. And now for being clumsy. The last thing she needed was for him to think she was interested in him.
“Relax, Chloe, we shall not be discovered.”
He laid back, his hands behind his head and his eyes drifted closed. She stole the quickest of peeks at his profile, at the way his thick lashes fell against his skin. His lips, when relaxed, begged for the touch of fingers. It was no wonder he had so much success with women, he was like a work of art.
Shaking her head at herself, she followed his suit and laid back, letting the sun prickle its way along her skin and begin to dry her. She would have to be far more cautious and cease any silly thoughts toward Brook. He might look like a harmless, sleeping man, but he was dangerous. In every way.
Chapter Ten
“Will you cease looking at me so?”
Brook’s expression remained neutral. His father laid down his newspaper and glowered at him. “I have had enough of your mother looking at me like that, I do not need it from you too.” His father waved a hand. “Do you not have something to do? Some ladies to charm perhaps?”
Brook nearly snorted. He had not charmed a lady in weeks, not since he started plotting with Chloe. He did not think she was charmed so she certainly did not count.
“Perhaps I’m simply enjoying your company, Father.” He sank onto the chair next to his father’s which faced the fireplace in the study. There was no fire as it was too warm but they had a habit of convening there whenever he was home and mulling over the world or sometimes simply sitting in silence. Though he preferred the hubbub of London, he did relish the moments with his father. He hoped for many more of them.
It would not happen if they did not bring an end to this disagreement between the families as soon as possible. Even in his father’s current state, he was still demanding people go and check the border and letting himself get far too angry about the matter.
The problem was, he had not come up with anything new as yet. If they could not arrange a simple walk, what else could they do?
Brook allowed himself a small smile. At least it meant he could keep exchanging letters with Chloe. All her time spent with her nose in books meant she was a talented wordsmith and there was something quite delightful about parrying words with her, even through the form of the written word. If someone had told him he would enjoy letter writing a few months ago, he would have laughed in their face. But, then, there was little to entertain in the countryside so he had to get it where he could find it.
He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. He and Chloe needed to meet again soon. He hoped at least the midnight meetings ensured they would never be caught. A rake he might be, the last thing he wanted to do was harm Chloe.
“I am tired, Brook,” his father said on a heavy breath.
“Shall I take you upstairs?” Brook began to rise from the chair but his father indicated for him to sit.
“That is not what I meant. I’m tired of people treating me as though I am in my grave. This little…event”—he waved a hand—”may have knocked the wind from me for a little while but it is not the end of me, Brook.” His father jabbed a finger in his direction. “Trust me on this, it is not the end of me.”
“No one thinks that it is—” Brook began.
“That’s a damned lie,” his father spat. “Even my solicitor wanted to discuss my will, should anything happen. I told that bastard I am happy with it the way it is.”
“Father…”
“Promise me you will stop feeling sorry for me,” he ordered. “Even if these are my last days—which they are not—I would want us to behave as we have always done. None of this pandering to me and tiptoeing around. You hear me, lad? I will have no more of it.”
Brook chuckled. “Very well. If that is what you wish.”
“It is what I wish.” His father thumped a fist down on the arm of his chair. “Now get your rear out of this house and go do something interesting. You and I both know this is the most amount of time you have ever spent here without doing anything. I insist you go and find some lovely ladies to charm or a friend to have a drink with.”
“Perhaps I do not wish to have a drink, Father. Have you thought of that? And there are few ladies in the area to charm.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Well, perhaps I have already charmed them all and there are none left.”
“That sounds about right.” His father gave an amused snort. “Well, whatever you do, make it interesting.”
Brook rose from the chair. “As you wish, Father. Should I get into any trouble, I shall blame you thoroughly.”
“Good. I should like to be the cause of some trouble.”
Chuckling to himself, Brook left the study, though he hardly had an inkling of an idea as to what he was going to do. He could visit Benedict but the man was still thoroughly in love with his wife and Brook always felt like he was encroaching. Several of his friends were in London and many others in Bath. He had intended to join them were it not for his father’s illness. He had somehow expected to reunite the two families within a matter of weeks and be done with it then he could be off celebrating with friends.
He had to admit to himself it was a rather foolish thought to think that centuries of hate between the two families could be healed within weeks.
Dressing for the outdoors, Brook ambled outside. His mother was out visiting and it was times like this he regretted not having a sibling or two. This was one of the main reasons he did not much enjoy spending a lot of time in Hampshire—there was simply not enough entertainment. He imagined Chloe would beg to differ and scold him for being childish.
With that thought in mind, he cut through the rock garden, following the path that sliced between the carefully curated plants until he exited the other end. Once there, another path meandered up a slope for a while before leading to the edge of the formal land. Now he was onto the wild fields that would take him to the river…and the fence.
He should not even be bothering. He’d only left her a letter yesterday and he doubted she’d found time to reply so quickly but at least it was something to do. Maybe…just maybe she would be there. Gads, what had happened to him? Chasing after a piece of skirt for no more than a letter?
Despite feeling a fool, he made his way to the fence to find no letter and no sign of Chloe. As he had expected. It did not mean his heart did not sink. Leaning briefly against the fence, he rested his jaw upon his hands. What should he do now?
He straightened at the sight of something. Or someone. Definitely female, with a parasol shielding her face. It had to be Chloe, surely? Who else would it be?
>
“Chloe!” He lifted a hand.
She turned toward him and his heart dropped low into his stomach down to his toes. It was most certainly not Chloe.
It was her mother.
Damn, he had given away their acquaintance. Chloe really would have something to scold him about now. He glanced around and debated his next move. He could run or pretend he had not seen her, though neither move would exactly improve his standing in her mother’s eyes. If they were ever to mend the relationship between the families, he would hope to be civil with her too.
He sighed. There was nothing he could do but try to explain away why he had called Chloe’s name. He straightened as Mrs. Larkin neared and gave a courteous nod. She looked so like an older version of Chloe, with ashy strawberry hair and a full figure, that it was almost eerie. “Mrs. Larkin.”
“Mr. Waverley.” She peered at him from under her hat, tilting back the parasol to look him up and down. “Whatever are doing out here?”
“Oh just…uh…”—he kicked the fence—”checking the boundaries.”
“I see.” She narrowed her gaze. “As you can see, they are not yet moved.”
“Yes, yes I can see that. Excellent.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I shall be—”
“Mr. Waverley,” she called before he could turn away.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Why exactly did you call me daughter’s name?”
“Your daughter’s name?” He shook his head vigorously. “I believe you are mistaken, m—”
“If you are trying to call me old and of poor hearing, I should watch your tongue, Mr. Waverley.”
Brook had to resist a smile. So that was where Chloe got her fire from. “Forgive me.”
“Tell me the truth now. I saw you two dancing together at Mr. Benedict’s ball and Chloe never dances with anyone. Would you say you are acquainted?”
He clasped his hands behind his back. He could not lie to her but he could hardly tell her the truth either. From what Chloe said, her mother would not be happy about them interfering in their fathers’ business.
He nodded slowly. “Yes, we are acquainted.”
“Well, that explains my daughter’s demeanor of late.” She pursed her lips. “I hope you understand that Chloe is naïve but far cleverer than either of us. I trust her not to make a fool of herself. I hope I can trust you to be a gentleman.”
“You can, ma’am. I swear it.”
“Very well. We shall say nothing more on it.”
“Mrs. Waverley…uh…is Chloe at home today?” He spilled out the question before he had thought it through properly.
The hint of a smile curved the woman’s mouth. “She is not. And even if she was, you would certainly not be welcome there, Mr. Waverley.”
“Ah. Of course. Yes—”
“She is in the village with her friends. No doubt she shall be visiting the bookshop,” Chloe’s mother said airily.
“I—” Before he could thank her, she turned and headed away from the fence.
Brook watched her leave then let his shoulders drop and unclasped his hands. He peered at the back of his hands. Nail marks were etched into the back of them. He needed to be much, much more careful. If that had been Mr. Larkin, he’d likely have a bullet in him or be facing a duel.
Still, he quite fancied a stroll into the village. After all, nothing could be said if he just happened to be in the same shop as Chloe. He grinned to himself. He was as entitled to browse for books as the next man.
Chapter Eleven
“You two go on without me,” Chloe suggested, shooing Joanna and Augusta toward the door. “I shall be some time longer, I am sure.”
Augusta tilted her head. “Are you certain? I really do not think—”
Joanna tapped on Augusta’s arm. “If she does not need us here, I suggest we go. We will meet you at the haberdashery.”
“Yes, please do. I shall see you there.” Chloe gave them a smile. Her friends, even though well-read, could not match her passion for books and her ability to browse for hours on end. She would rather explore the shop alone, even though she had likely looked upon every single book that was here by now.
Once her friends were gone, Chloe moved back into the depths of the shop. Here were the older titles, some looking neglected and slightly covered in dust. She had a fondness for these and had been known to purchase one or two frequently. She could not help but feel sorry for these books, outshone by the newer titles that everyone was clamoring to read.
“I should have known I would find you here.” Chloe snapped her head up at the sound of those deep timbres that made her want to release a little shiver.
“Brook.” His name came out a raspy whisper.
He smiled broadly, making her stomach do a little flip.
“Whatever are you doing here?”
“I shall confess to hoping to find you here.” He picked up a book and leafed through it nonchalantly before snapping it shut and placing it back upon an unsteady pile.
Chloe glanced around the alcove. They were out of sight of the shopkeeper and there was only one other customer near the front. Chloe edged deeper into the recesses of the shop, letting the gloom of the windowless room swallow her.
“I know you have your reputation to consider but one can hardly get into trouble for browsing books in the same shop as me.” He stalked her steps, closing the gap between them again.
“One can get in trouble if one is fraternizing with the enemy,” she pointed out.
His lips tilted. “I had rather hoped you would stop thinking of me as the enemy.”
She glanced over him. “I’m not yet certain what you are.”
“A friend, perhaps.”
She could feel her defenses weakening. It always happened around Brook. Perhaps it was his charming smile or the way he spoke to her as though she were an equal. Whatever it was, she was unable to barricade herself against him. The smile she had been fighting quirked the corners of her lips.
She lowered her voice. “I’m not certain midnight meetings count as friendship.”
“Most people would consider that an illicit liaison. I should imagine you would rather think of those as a meeting between two friends.”
She opened her mouth then closed it. An illicit liaison? Of course, she was not foolish enough to imagine that people would think there were good intentions behind their meetings. However, she would not have thought Brook would think to mention meetings with her and illicit liaisons in one breath. After all, she was hardly the sort of person anyone had illicit anythings with.
“If…that is…you could have sent me a message if you wanted to meet.” Chloe twisted to eye the books in front of her, anything to remove her gaze from Brook, who was looking at her with that dangerously devilish smile and that glint in his eyes.
The man was teasing her and, damn him, it was working. She was feeling all hot and prickly and her mind kept darting back to the idea of this illicit liaison. She could not help but wonder, what would it be like to meet with Brook for such a thing? How would he charm her? What would he do? It was not something a girl like her could ever have considered.
But here she was, considering such a thing. She blew out a long, slow breath she hoped he could not hear or else he might catch the shuddery quality.
He moved to her side, leaning against the pale brick pillar that supported the ceiling of the shop. She glanced at him from the periphery of her vision then forced her gaze to the titles on the spines. All the words and letters seemed to blur together as she made a show of reading each one as if they meant something to her.
“We do need to discuss trying to arrange another meeting,” he said.
“As I said, you could have sent me a message.” She tugged out a random book, flicked through it and pretended to be absorbed in the words.
Brook plucked the book from her hand and eased it shut. “I wanted to see you sooner than that.”
Her gaze snapped to his. Blast. He was winning. She co
uld not help herself, finding her attention drawn into his eyes where all sorts of sense vanished.
“Why…why should you wish to see me sooner?” She shouldn’t have asked. It did not matter. He was likely simply keen to come up with another plan. Just because she enjoyed his company, did not mean he felt the same way.
He did not answer for a moment. Something odd flickered in his gaze before vanishing behind that charming grin.
“If you wish to discuss our fathers meeting, I could think of better places to do it,” she said hastily. “Plenty of my father’s friends frequent here. In fact, I think I saw Mr. Johnson heading this way earlier. And of course Mr. Bramley knows my father well. He shall report back to him if he sees us together. I really do think—”
“Chloe.”
She clamped her lips together. She was rambling like a fool and it was all because she was standing in one square foot with Brook Waverley, known rake, and a man entirely in another league to her.
“Is it so hard to believe that I might actually wish to spend time with you? And, given our parents’ disagreement, I could never do that in the traditional manner.”
“But—” She scowled.
There was no hint of charm or guile in his words. In fact, he seemed almost frustrated that she might think he had other motives. Before she could come up with a reply, the bell on the front door jangled. She peered toward the front of the shop and sucked in a breath. “It’s Mr. Johnson,” she gasped. Though she had been talking nonsense, Mr. Johnson was indeed one of her father’s close friends and one who could be considered on the ‘Larkin side’. He would surely tell her father if he spotted her with Brook.
Brook grasped her arm and dragged her deep into the recesses of the building. A small door leading to what was likely a storage room was tucked between shelves of books. She had seen the shopkeeper come in and out with new books from there. Brook turned the handle and tucked her in, shutting the door behind them.
Married to the Rake (The Wallflower Brides Book 1) Page 7