“Yes, Papa,” she said rapidly.
“Then why is it, that I hear of you sneaking out at night, to meet with the most scandalous of men?” he bit out tersely.
Chloe inhaled sharply. She should have known. Maybe she did. But she did not care. How much longer did she really expect to keep slipping out of the house and not be caught? Goodness knows who it was who had spotted her—maybe it was even her father who could not sleep or one of the servants. It did not matter, though, did it? The only thing that mattered now was that her father knew, and she was in a world of trouble.
“Papa…” she started, uncertain of what she could possibly say to defend herself. She briefly considered trying to lie or claim that someone was mistaken, that she was simply walking because she could not sleep, but she suspected that would just make the situation worse.
He thrust a finger at her. “Do not try to defend yourself, Chloe. I had expected better of you. I thought you were a clever girl but I was wrong. Not only do you risk ruin, you risk it with a man of such ill repute that you would see your name and the family’s name splashed across the papers. You have been inconsiderate indeed.”
Chloe stared at the painting behind her father’s head. She had always hated it—some gruesome medieval battle where horses and soldiers were wounded upon the floor, spears protruding out of their bodies. She shuddered. Never before had the painting seemed so ominous.
What could she even say? Her father was not lying. Her reasons for meeting Brook might have been somewhat unselfish but after a while…well, she could not deny that the meetings were for herself. Brook was right. She had fallen for him.
“It seems to me that you cannot be trusted and therefore I must put your future in my hands.”
She snapped her head up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I shall make a marriage for you. I had thought you had little interest in the opposite sex but apparently I was wrong. Therefore, I think it prudent to find you a match as quickly as possible.”
“No, Papa please—”
“It is practically settled, Chloe. I have a man in mind. He is of good means and character. I have no doubt you shall be a good match.”
Panic burst in her chest, fluttering like the wings of a trapped bird. She had been lucky that her parents had never pressured her into marriage. They knew that Freddie would eventually inherit and ensure she was looked after in later life. Her mother was the romantic sort and always hoped Chloe might find love. Thus, she had been left to her own devices. Until now.
She glanced at the contorted faces of the dying men in the painting, feeling rather like she had been stabbed in the chest by a spear too. “I do not want a good match.” She moved closer to the desk. “Please, Papa. I cannot marry a stranger.”
“He is not a stranger, at least not to me. Mr. James Lawrence. I think you shall find he is quite suitable.”
Chloe pursed her lips. “Mr. Lawrence? Is he not closer to your age than mine?”
“Yes, and I think you will find you are quite suited. He has a love of books and reading as do you. He also lives a quiet and scandal-free lifestyle. I know he is in the market for a wife since his previous one passed so I think the match is quite suitable.”
She shook her head slowly and the world began to blur. Everything became too loud—from the bird tweeting outside to the slight fizz of the lamp wick burning. She would not have been surprised if the world crumbled away beneath her feet.
She had expected him to be angry should he ever find out, but there was no chance she could have anticipated this.
“Is this because I was spending time with a man, or is it because he is the son of your enemy?”
Her father’s expression darkened. “It is both,” he snapped. “It is because you clearly do not put the family’s interests first.”
“Of course I do! I’ve always put the family’s interests first. In fact, almost everything I do—”
“I will not hear anything more of it. And I’d better not hear of you leaving this house again without your mother.”
“So you would keep me prisoner until this Mr. Lawrence comes to marry me? Whether I want it or not?”
“What you want is irrelevant, Chloe. You have proven that. You cannot be trusted to make your own choices.”
“You are no better than Mr. Waverley” she snapped.
“Whatever do you mean by that?”
“I know of your marriage. Of how you saved that woman. Now you wish to do what Mr. Waverley wanted to do to that lady? You two are as bad as each other.” Heat flowed through her fingertips, making her palms hot and clammy. No matter his flaws, she knew her father loved her, but he was not thinking sensibly right now. He never had when it came to the Waverleys. She could not believe he would go as far as to arrange a match for her with a stranger.
He narrowed his gaze at her. “How do you know about that?”
“I know more than you realize.” Chloe folded her arms across her chest.
“It does not matter. None of this matters. You should do as I tell you for a change or there shall be consequences.”
“I hardly think these consequences are fair.” Tears burned at the corners of her eyes and her throat ached.
“Life is not fair.” Her father turned his attention back to his letters. “You are dismissed, Chloe. I suggest you go and apologize to your mother too. She is quite upset that you would risk your reputation like this.”
Chloe’s chin wobbled. How could he do this to her? She understood his anger but to do such a thing…? She had clearly underestimated her father’s hatred of the Waverleys. Her father kept his head bent low and she fought the tears for a few moments, words boiling in her mind. But she suspected none of them would work.
Escaping the study, she dashed upstairs to her room, flinging herself on her bed. She buried her face into the pillow and willed the tears away. She would not cry like some child or a scorned woman. However, she would not marry Mr. Lawrence. Especially not now.
If anything, her father’s declaration had done the opposite of what he had intended. She knew now. She loved Mr. Brook Waverley.
Chapter Sixteen
Brook eyed his father. Though it was a pleasant day, he had a blanket around his shoulders as he sat in the garden. Brook grimaced. Some days his father seemed as strong as ever but other days his age truly showed. Today did not seem the right time to tell him about Chloe or his plans to court her. But, damn it, he would have to tell them eventually.
Straightening his shoulders, he strode toward his father only to spot his mother in the formal gardens, waving at him. “Brook,” she called.
Brook sighed. He did not much mind having to put off this conversation with his father but really, he wished to get it over and done with. The sooner he did, the sooner he could pursue Chloe formally. Then, all he had to do was persuade Chloe his intentions were good.
He followed the path around the house and walked toward his mother, slowing his pace when he realised why she wanted him. His boots felt suddenly leaden when he spied the woman sitting on a bench.
Judith Somerset.
A previous, much mistaken conquest of his. Not that his mother knew that. The young widow was attractive and confident, but she also had little to say for herself and had been keen on dominating Brook for a time. He had very quickly broken things off once he realised quite what she was truly like. However, she and his mother had become companions of a sort since then. Brook always suspected she had done it deliberately, to get close to him. As yet he had managed to avoid her.
He kept his expression neutral as he approached his mother and Judith. He could feel Judith’s gaze upon him and an excessive perfume drifted toward him. “Did you need me, Mother?”
“I thought you might like to show Mrs. Somerset the new rock garden.”
“Surely you can show her, Mother. Unfortunately I am—”
“What a wonderful idea.” Judith leapt to her feet, and forcibly pressed her arm through his.
Brook grimaced. Apparently the time apart had not changed her nature at all. And for some reason, his mother seemed to be encouraging the behavior. She glanced at him with a satisfied look, and gave a small nod, as if to give her approval of the match. It seemed while he had not been paying attention, Judith had done quite a lot of significant amount of work on his mother.
He bit back a sigh and motioned toward the rock garden. “This way.” His mother might seem mild for the most part, but she had a fiercer temper than his father when she wanted to. Besides which, a moment alone with Judith would allow him to put to rest any ideas she might have. Particularly, if his mother had been encouraging her.
“It is so good to see you again, Brook. I seem to miss you every time I’m in in London.”
“Oh, really?” he said vaguely. There had been a few places where he deliberately avoided her. He did not much like having to run away from a woman, but Judith was the most determined sort and, for the most part, unlikely to listen to reason. He could only hope that had changed.
He adopted a brisk pace, forcing Judith to shuffle along next to him. “And, here we are,” he announced. “The rock garden.”
The garden was recently installed under the supervision of his mother. Exotic plants that did not enjoy the normal, damp ground of England, had been specially sourced and planted in the buildup of rocks that had been carefully arranged around a winding path. At the end of the path, a shallow pond was dotted with waterlilies. Even if Brook could tell Judith much about the plants, he had no desire to. The sooner this was over the better.
“Well, this is lovely,” Judith said. “I can see why your mother is so proud of it.”
“Indeed,” he said tightly.
She eased her arm out of his and twisted to face him, forcing him to come to a stop halfway along the path. “As you might have noticed, your mother and I have become quite good friends. She is an excellent woman and I admire her greatly.”
Brook gave a grunt. He could not argue with that.
“And,” she twirled a raven curl around one of her fingers, “I do think she rather likes me. In fact, I would go as far as to say she is immensely fond of me.” She gave a smile that reminded him of a cat just prior to him catching a mouse.
He had no intention of being caught.
“Well, now that you have seen the rock garden, why do you not head back inside? I am certain my mother is missing you if she is so fond of you as you just stated.”
She perfected a pout. Once upon a time, he’d found Judith extremely attractive. With glossy raven hair, an excellent sense of fashion, and a figure she used to her advantage, it was hard to ignore her when she’d shown interest in him several years ago. He could curse himself for rushing headlong into bed with her without knowing what she was like. She was vacuous, vain, and cared little for other’s feelings. He could not say all of his lovers had been intellects, but he enjoyed conversation as much as a tumble and liked both from his partners.
“You have not shown it all to me.” She pushed a curl from her face then let her fingers linger on her face and down to her décolletage.
Brook ignored the movement and debated his options. He could abandon her here but as much as he disliked her, it went against everything that had been ingrained in him. Cursing his upbringing, he motioned down the path.
“Let us continue then.”
Judith smiled and he caught the glint of satisfaction in her eyes. Maybe he could use this time to ensure she understood he had no interest in her whatsoever.
Though, he had tried to make it clear many times before so he was not certain why he thought this might finally work.
“I am surprised you are in Hampshire, Brook. I had thought you might still be in London. I was there last week and was disappointed not to see you.”
“Unfortunately, Mrs. Somerset,” he said with the emphasis on her name, “my father was ill. You might have heard.”
“Oh yes, what a terrible thing to happen.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I wish I could have been here to comfort you.”
Her insincere tone combined with her touch sent a shiver down his spine. He doubted she cared one jot as to his father’s health.
“And here is the pond,” he announced, gesturing to the lily-scattered patch of water. Gray rocks, their edges smooth, surrounded it and the occasional ripple announced the presence of fish beneath the surface. It was a peaceful part of the garden and Judith did not fit in with the surroundings one bit here.
“Hmmm.” She strolled around the edge of the pond, glancing back at him as she tugged off one of her gloves with her teeth. “You know, this is a quiet spot. Very private.” She circled back around until standing in front of him once more. “I have missed you, Brook.” She trailed her bare hand over his chest.
Brook took a step back.
“Do not tell me you have not missed me.”
“I am sorry if I have not made it clear previous, Mrs. Somerset, but I have no intention of rekindling our…relationship.”
“But your mother loves me! Do you not see how perfect it would be? We could marry and she would have a daughter she adores!”
“My mother loves you, but I do not,” he said bluntly.
Judith released a laugh that made him wince. “Does that matter?” She shifted closer. “We are a perfect match, Brook. I am tired of being alone and we look so wonderful together.”
He lifted a brow.
“And you cannot deny that we match wonderfully in bed too.”
“Judith, I am not interested in marrying you and none of those are good enough reasons.”
She made a dismissive noise. “Plenty of people marry for fewer reasons than that. You will not find another woman like me, I promise you that much.”
He fought hard not to slap a palm to his forehead. She was nothing if not determined. He had no desire to bring Chloe into the matter, but she was one hundred times the woman Judith was.
“I think we had better head back. My mother shall be missing your company.”
Her lips pursed. “You do not wish to take advantage of the time alone?”
“No, Judith, I do not. And I never will.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “You will change your mind soon enough, I am certain of it. You just need reminding…” She stepped toward him and gave a little cry, collapsing forward and splaying her hands upon his chest.
When he tried to step away, she followed him, nearly falling and forcing him to grab her arms.
“Oh no. seem to have twisted my ankle.”
Brook inhaled slowly. She was testing his patience…and his manners. His attempts to disentangle himself from her failed, and she made a whimpering sound.
“I do not think I can walk on it.” She clung to him tighter.
“Perhaps if you lean…”
She whimpered when she put weight on her foot. “It is no good,” she cried. “You must carry me.”
He glanced at the flat ground. Either she had the weakest ankles on earth, or she was toying with him. He suspected he knew which. With a roll of his eyes, he scooped her up, not unaware of the way she beamed at him as she did so. Judith looped her arms around his neck and held herself as close as humanly possible.
His best bet was to deposit her with his mother as swiftly as possible. Brook paced his way back through the rock gardens while Judith clung tightly to him.
“This feels nice,” she said, and he felt her gaze upon him.
“A twisted ankle feels nice?” he muttered, not looking down.
“No, silly, being close to you.” She sighed and rested her head against him. “How perfectly we fit together.”
He grimaced and marched into the formal garden then up the stairs into the house with haste. He found his mother in the parlor room, standing by the window with a cup of tea in hand. He narrowed his gaze at her as she twisted quickly and with a perfect surprised look at Judith being in his arms. She’d never tried to push him into a relationship before, even if she had
murmured about wanting grandchildren soon, but Judith had done some mighty fine work.
“Oh dear, whatever happened?” his mother asked, hastening over.
“She twisted her ankle.” He deposited her on the sofa with little care, sending her sprawling on the pink fabric.
“Oh.” Judith swiftly righted herself and he noticed her put pressure on her ankle before she remembered her injury.
“Well, goodness, what a shame. Perhaps you can keep her company while I send someone for some ice,” his mother suggested.
“I will send someone for ice,” Brook told her, exiting the room before his mother could say anything. A shudder ran through him. Even if he did not have his eyes set on Chloe, there was no chance he would marry Judith—no matter how keen his mother was on the match.
No one could compare to Chloe, and he’d do whatever he must to make her realize they were meant to be together.
Chapter Seventeen
Chloe bit back a scream. For one awful moment, she thought she had been caught. Which had been highly likely considering her plan had been extremely ill thought out. When she had realised her mother would give her no support against her father, she had hastened to Brook’s house with little care for the consequences. Her father would be angry if she was, but what could be the worst that he could do? Marry her off to Mr Lawrence immediately? She loathed arguing with her parents, but this was wrong, and her father knew it.
Of course, she did not even know where Brook’s room was or if he would even be there.
So, running into him had been fortuitous indeed.
Brook gripped her arms and glanced around. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you,” she said breathlessly, bending double for a moment to draw breath. It was not just her hasty journey that made her lungs burn. Desperation seemed to sear her insides. Of all fates, marriage to a stranger had always seemed the worst. She had witnessed it happen to friends but never did she expect it to become her fate.
He glanced her over. “Did you run here?”
No doubt she looked as flustered and as unkempt as she felt.
Married to the Rake (The Wallflower Brides Book 1) Page 11