“Should you not be getting to your studies? I would wager your governess is waiting for you.”
He crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out. “Studies are boring. That is much more interesting.”
“I am sure it is but it is not really suitable for you.”
“Oh, Chloe, why do you have to spoil my fun? I would never have showed you if I’d realised you’d be so boring about it.”
Shooing him out of her bedroom, she kept the book out of his reach. “Sometimes older sisters have to spoil their little brother’s fun. It is part of the job description.”
“But—”
Chloe shut the door on him before he could protest and turned the key in the lock. Sinking onto the bed amongst her crumpled clothes, she opened the diary and began to read. Once it reached the more graphic moments, she skipped past those. There was nothing there she needed to know—or wanted to know. However, it soon became clear that there was information both the Waverleys and the Larkins should be aware of. Now she understood why Brook’s father had a different story to tell about Julia.
It seemed the woman was in love with both men.
My heart is torn. Both are excellent men, of equal standing, and treat me with nothing less than great respect. When I am with George, my heart soars, and when I am with Marcus, I feel things I did not think humanly possible. Part of me thinks I should run away and deny myself any happiness ever rather than make a choice. But if I do, we shall all be unhappy. Is it right to make two people happy and one very miserable? I suppose only time will tell.
By the time Chloe had nearly finished reading, the room had grown dark. She had failed to draw the curtains and quiet dusk settled over the gardens, turning it a shade of blue-gray. Her neck was stiff from being hunched over the diary and when she put a hand to it and tilted her head from side to side, she felt it crick. The dinner gong echoed through the house. She grimaced. She just needed a few more moments.
Lighting a candle, she rushed through the last few pages. She was beginning to understand why her father and Mr Waverley adored Julia so much. She seemed a clever and kind woman. Her chest grew heavy and tight when she landed on the last page. Julia knew she was dying and was aware she had created even more of the rift between the families.
If I could see but one thing before I go, it would be George and Marcus enjoying one another’s company once more.
Chloe blinked away budding tears and carefully shut the book. Both men needed to know this. Surely, if they loved Julia as much as Julia had spoken of, they would make peace with one another.
Chapter Twenty
“That bloody woman.” Brook paced past the fireplace and back again.
Benedict watched him from his seat, saying little. Elizabeth stood behind her husband, a hand resting on his shoulder while she eyed Brook. He couldn’t face another day at home with his parents questioning why he looked like he was ready to attack someone.
It was because his foolish past had caught up with him. Because he’d argued with Chloe and flung accusations at her rather than talked it through. Because he feared he’d lost her forever and had little idea how to fix this.
But he could say none of that, so his next best bet had been to escape to Benedict’s.
The scent of coffee lingered in the air, but he hadn’t drunk a drop. Coming here and burdening his friends with this was a mistake perhaps but it was certainly not a matter he could discuss with his father and Lord knows, he was making a hash of it on his own.
Brook paused and scowled at Elizabeth’s slightly amused look. “What is it?”
She gave a half-smile. “Forgive me, but I never thought I would see you in such a tangle over a woman.”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “Well, she is quite a woman.”
“So it seems,” Benedict said. “You must be absurdly in love if you were willing to give up your bachelor lifestyle and elope.”
“I would not say absurdly in love.” Brook grimaced. Perhaps it was absurdly so. If he was willing to upset his family and risk their ire, he most certainly had to be madly, deeply, absurdly in love.
“Well, what are you going to do about it?” demanded Elizabeth. “You are not going to let that vile Judith ruin things, are you?”
Elizabeth knew Judith from London and they had never been friends so she did not appear at all surprised when Brook explained what had happened.
Shaking his head, Brook sighed. He couldn’t let Judith win. But to get to Chloe, he would have to trespass on Larkin land with a high chance of getting shot if he did so. He could wait until nightfall and do as he has done before but he very much doubted Chloe would entertain the thought of sneaking out to see him. The problem was, he hardly blamed her. With his past, was it any wonder she thought the worst of him?
Well, Chloe had to leave her house at some point. She could not remain hidden away there forever. As soon as she stepped off Larkin land, he would take his chance and try to explain, with infinitely more eloquent words, what had happened.
“If I were you, Brook, I would waste no time, whatever you are going to do.” Elizabeth moved to the side table and poured a cup of coffee, turning and taking a sip. “Did I not hear that she was to marry Mr. Lawrence?”
Brook made a face. “She will never marry him.”
“Unfortunately as women, we often have no choice. Her mother was suggesting they were going to see him today, I believe. Mr. Larkin is known for being soft on his daughter so I should imagine Mr. Lawrence wishes to get the marriage contract drawn up quickly before her father changes his mind.”
A chill ran through him. Brook curled a fist at his side. He’d been so damn wrapped up in the idea of them eloping, he’d forgotten the real reason they had even agreed to speed things up. He couldn’t let Chloe marry that old stick of a man.
“I need to get to her.”
Benedict nodded. “I think you do.”
Mr. Larkin could shoot him for all he cared, he had to get to Chloe. He bid Benedict and Elizabeth a hasty farewell and retrieved his horse from the stables, cutting a swift path toward the Larkin estate. Perhaps Elizabeth was incorrect and Chloe was not due to visit with Lawrence today. Maybe Mr. Larkin had even changed his mind. None of it mattered, he needed to see Chloe and he needed to see her now.
Bunching the reins tight in his hand, the leather strips cut into his palms. He should have risked being shot in the first place and followed her and insisted they made up immediately. He could think of many, many better ways of ending that argument but his foolish pride had got the better of him.
He slowed the horse when he spied a carriage thundering along the road from the Larkin estate. He was some distance away still but he recognized the carriage as Chloe’s fathers. His heart beat a sickening tattoo against his chest. They were going to Lawrence’s—they had to be.
And he was going to lose Chloe forever.
He urged the horse into action. If they moved fast enough, he could intercept the carriage and force Chloe to listen to him. Who knew if her father was with them—he might end up being beaten to a bloody pulp—but it would be worth it if he could only tell Chloe the truth.
He loved her even if they fought. Even if it took him an eternity to prove himself to her. He’d wait forever if he had to. So long as she didn’t marry that man.
Trees whipped at his face, the sting hardly registering while he rode down a path seldom travelled. With any luck, it would bring him out in front of the carriage. His pulse beat hard in his ears and he could feel his blood rush through his veins—hot and urgent. Every instinct in his body urged him to get to her. He’d promised to protect her at all costs and if he did not prevent her from marrying a man she did not know, he would no longer be doing his job.
“Good girl,” he urged the horse, breaths coming fast as they emerged onto the road. He cursed when he spied the carriage, bumping its way along the country road up ahead. “Looks like we’re not done yet, girl.” With a flick of the reins, he continued his
pursuit.
Coming alongside of the carriage, he was all too aware of the driver noting his presence and flexing his hand at his side. It was likely he travelled with a pistol in case they ran into highwaymen. He’d risk getting shot if he had to but he’d rather not end up with a hole in his chest.
“I need to talk to Miss Larkin,” he called to the driver.
The man shook his head, glancing him over. The chances were he thought it a trick to get him to stop. Brook did not blame him. Highwaymen were known to pretend to be in trouble to force carriages to a halt.
“I’m Mr. Brook Waverley,” he said, keeping pace with the carriage. “You must know me.”
“Even if you are, you will have to wait,” the man shouted back. “We are late as it is.”
“It is an urgent matter!”
The driver shrugged and turned his attention back to the road. Damn it. As much as he was glad the Larkin’s driver was a cautious man, well capable to taking care of Chloe, he’d hoped it would not come to this.
He propelled the horse forward, ensuring there was a large gap between him and the carriage before dismounting and tethering his mount to a tree at the side of the road. The carriage bore down upon him, the horse’s hooves making the ground vibrate. Brook swallowed and tugged at this collar. The man wouldn’t risk running over a Waverley…would he?
Palm out, Brook held his ground. The driver waved his hand frantically, motioning for him to move aside. Brook planted his feet firmly, his shoulders squared. This was going to hurt a great deal if the driver did not slow down soon enough.
The gap between them closed. The horses neared. The vibrations of the wheels and hooves pounding the ground rumbled up through his limbs. Brook half-closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact.
A whinny of horses and the uncomfortable screech of a carriage rocking on its suspension, and the driver brought it to a halt, a mere foot or so from Brook. He felt the hot breath of the horses on his face.
“You bloody idiot,” the driver shouted. “Do you want to die.”
“Not particularly,” Brook quipped, “but I do thank you, sir, for not crushing me to death.”
The carriage door opened and Mr. Larkin popped his head out. “What the devil is going on?” His gaze landed on Brook. “What are you doing here?”
Hands held up in surrender, Brook took a few steps back as Mr. Larkin stepped out of the carriage and stalked toward him. He should have guessed Chloe would be travelling with both parents.
“Mr. Larkin, I just wish to have a word with your daughter,” Brook tried.
“You will do nothing of the sort. You will stay far away from her.” Chloe’s father thrust a finger out at him and moved closer. “What the devil sort of game are you playing? Get out of here before I shoot you.”
“Just a brief word, Mr. Larkin, I promise.”
“Johnson, hand me your gun.” Mr. Larkin gestured to the driver who reluctantly handed over what was likely to be a loaded pistol.
Brook lifted his hands higher. “I do not want trouble.”
Chloe’s father aimed the gun at Brook’s chest. “You Waverleys are always trouble.”
“What is going on?” came a soft voice. Chloe’s mother, elegant in dark red with a high collar, stood by the carriage. “Marcus, why are you trying to shoot Mr. Waverley?”
“Mr. Waverley?” Chloe leaped from the vehicle, her eyes wide.
Brook might well have been shot in the chest for all he knew. Seeing her made his entire body hurt. In a delicate pale green gown, overlaid with a sheath of lace and her hair coiled delicately up with sprigs of curls around her face, she looked every inch the bride to be. He clenched his jaw. He didn’t want her looking beautiful for that bloody Lawrence. He wanted her beautiful for himself.
“Get out of here, Waverley, before I do something we both regret,” Mr. Larkin spat.
“I am sorry, sir, but I cannot.” He glanced over at Chloe. “I must speak with your daughter.”
“I’ll kill you first.”
Brook looked into Mr. Larkin’s pale gaze. He might be aged but his hand was steady and Brook did not doubt the man would follow through on his threat.
“I am not moving,” Brook insisted. “I cannot you see.” He looked past the man to Chloe. “You can’t marry Lawrence, Chlo,” he said. “I won’t let it happen.”
“But, Brook—” Chloe took a step forward and stilled when her father whirled on her.
“Brook?” he spluttered.
“You can’t marry him because I want to marry you,” Brook said, using her father’s distraction to step to the side, away from the gun. “I want to marry you, Chloe. Even if you do not trust me yet. Even if I have to court you for endless years. Even if your father wants to shoot me.”
Chloe’s lips curved slightly.
“I love you, Chlo. I always will. Even if you hate me. But you cannot marry a man you do not know. You just cannot.”
“Damn it, Waverley.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Brook saw the gun lift again.
“Papa, no!” Chloe raced forward, placing herself between the gun and Brook.
Mr. Larkin’s eyes widened and he swiftly lowered the pistol. “Good God, Chloe, would you really align yourself with this man?”
She nodded. “I would.” She reached behind her and took Brook’s hand.
He tried and failed not to grin like a fool and wound his fingers between hers.
“I love him, Papa. I very much wish to marry him.” She turned around, a smile stretching lips that he’d kill to taste. “I love you. And I do trust you. I am sorry I ever let my doubts get the better of me.” She shook her head. “Those doubts were not about you but about myself. Whether I could really keep a man like you interested. But you have never made me feel anything less than worthy.”
He groaned. “You are more than worthy. In fact, it is I who is unworthy of you.” He took both her hands in his. “But I will spend the rest of my days proving myself to you.”
“Chloe,” her father spluttered. “You cannot be serious.”
She turned back to her father. “I am, Papa. He is a good man, you will see.”
“No.” He shook his head vigorously. “He’s a Waverley, nothing can change that.”
“Actually something can.” Chloe tugged a book from under her pelisse. “This can.”
Mr. Larkin frowned. “What is that?”
“It is about Julia,” Chloe said softly.
“Julia…” her father murmured, his cheeks paling rapidly.
Brook eyed the small, tattered book but had little idea what it was and why it pertained to the woman their fathers had fought over. “Chloe?”
“Trust me, Brook, I think I can solve this,” she said, pressing a hand to his chest. “Mama, can we go to the Waverley’s house?”
Her mother had remained frozen by the carriage, her expression a little wan. She nodded slowly. “I suppose so, dear.”
“Not a chance in hell,” Mr. Larkin bit out.
“For once in your life, stop being so stubborn,” Chloe’s mother snapped.
Chloe’s father opened his mouth then closed it. He tucked the pistol into his jacket. “This does not mean I will not shoot you still.” He stalked back to the carriage and was herded in by his wife.
“I hope you have something good there, Chlo. I really would rather not be shot.”
She grinned. “It is very good, believe me. I am certain what is in here shall ensure our fathers do not fight again.”
“Will it also ensure I can marry you?”
“I very much hope so.” She bit down on her bottom lip.
“If your father were not here, I would kiss you right now.”
“If my father were not here, I would kiss you right now,” she countered.
“We shall have to save it for when your father is no longer threatening to kill me, I suppose.”
“Hopefully that will be sooner rather than later.” She motioned to his horse. “Will you
ride on? We shall catch up with you.”
“Of course.”
“And, Brook…why did you chase after the carriage?”
“I couldn’t let you marry Lawrence.”
Chloe frowned. “I wasn’t going to marry Lawrence.”
“You’re not? You weren’t?”
“No. My father changed his mind. We were just travelling to visit with my aunt.”
He grimaced. “Well, I wish I had known before I stepped in front of that carriage.”
“You stepped…? Oh, Brook, you could have been killed!”
He lifted a shoulder. “Would have been worth it.” He grinned. “Perhaps.”
She pressed a palm to his chest. “I love you,” she said shyly.
“I love you too.” He glanced around and pressed the briefest of kisses to her lips, leaving her looking stunned. “You are utterly worth dying for, Chlo,” he told her as he mounted his horse.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Brook, where the—” George Waverley paused, confusion crossing his brow before he bunched his fists by his side. “Brook, fetch my shotgun. We have intruders,” he growled.
Brook stepped swiftly in between the two men while Chloe’s father held up his palms. “I am only here at your son’s insistence.”
“Before you go killing anyone, Father, I need you to listen to this.” He motioned to Chloe. “Go ahead.”
“I am not listening to a word that comes out of a Larkin’s mouth. They are all lies!” Mr. Waverley took a step forward but Brook blocked his father from coming any closer.
“Perhaps we should go, dear,” Chloe’s mother said, hooking her arm through her father’s and moving to tug him away.
In the close confines of the entryway, surrounded by tall marble pillars, Chloe could well understand her mother’s concern. Despite his recent illness, Mr. Waverley was a large-set man with a hard gaze and a determined stance.
Chloe shook her head. “Please don’t, Mama. We need to do this.”
“Do what, though, Chloe? Anger the man? I do believe he really will shoot us,” her mother murmured.
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