Page 18 of Married to the Rake

Chapter Seven

Chloe tilted her head one way, then the other. It was no good, the stain would be there forever. The laundry maid had not been able to remove it and though Chloe had attempted it herself, the stain from the wine that Brook spilled would not budge. She flung the dress aside and landed on her bed in a heap.

She rubbed her dry eyes. The ball had ended late but even then she had not been able to settle. Her mind whirled over all the things that had happened last night. Though she could not say what she expected to happen at the ball, none of it had been anticipated.

For goodness sakes, she had danced with a Waverley. She was not even sure why she said yes to him only that she could not seem to deny him. She had never been one for finding men in eveningwear appealing and yet Brook had been devastating in his breeches and finely fitted waistcoat.

Chloe threw herself back on the bed, flinging her arms wide. She landed so her pillows formed a cocoon around her. She flipped around and buried her head into the pillows. What was wrong with her? Why was she wasting so much mental space on Brook Waverley? She could be doing something interesting and important, like finishing her cataloguing of the mythology section in the library or even preparing for Augusta and Joanna to arrive. Neither of them had been able to attend the ball last night but Joanna promised that they would visit this afternoon.

She supposed one of the benefits of having a widow for a friend was Joanna could play escort to them at any time. Of course, she and Augusta would far rather Joanna’s husband was alive. But, as Joanna said, they had to make the best of a bad situation.

Which is what she was doing now, was she not? Making the best of a bad situation? Here she was considering Mr. Waverley in his eveningwear when, for all she knew, his father could be dead. It was highly unlikely her family would find out about it any time soon so she was left to just wonder. What was he going through? There was a small part of her—no, a rather large part of her—that wished she could be there for him. She had never seen Mr. Waverley look so vulnerable in his life and the way he said her name…Gosh it rendered her heart still and painful even now.

She had almost thought he might want to fall into her arms that night. If he felt about his father anything like she felt about hers, he would be devastated should anything happen to him.

She rose from the bed and rubbed a hand over her face. There was little she could do about it right now. Perhaps she would go down to the border as he had suggested and leave him a note.

She stood swiftly. Yes, that was an excellent idea. She could do it before Augusta and Joanna arrived and then check tomorrow if there had been any response. She highly doubted there would be. If the house was in mourning, Mr. Waverley would be going nowhere and even if his father was yet alive, she imagined he would not wish to leave his side. But perhaps, just perhaps Mr Waverley would wish to get some air and see her encouraging note. It was not much, but it was all she could do.

Chloe hastened down the stairs but before she could reach the drawing room to pen a note, her father blocked her entrance. She glanced up at his sour expression. “Whatever is the matter, Papa?”

“I’m surprised you do not know.” Her father crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Papa?”

“Your mother told me not to say anything but it cannot be ignored. You danced with Waverley last night.”

“I…I was only being polite. Mother is always telling me to dance more. I would have thought you would have been pleased.”

His moustache bristled. “There is no need to be polite to Waverley. You danced with the enemy, Chloe. How do you think that looks?”

“The enemy?” Chloe shook her head. “This is ridiculous, Papa. It was a mere dance with a gentleman.”

“You know full well that the Waverley boy is no gentleman. I might not read the gossip columns like you and your mother do but I am fully aware of his reputation. Do you realize that people were talking of you two last night? There were murmurings of…marriage,” he hissed.

“Marriage?” A rush of cold spread through her. She had only danced with him for goodness sakes. And people knew well of the disagreement between the families. Why would anyone speak of marriage?

“You are of age, Chloe. It is no surprise that anyone you dance with might be assumed to be special to you.” His bushy brows lifted. “He is not special to you, is he?”

“I danced with him. Nothing more. How on earth can he be special to me?” Her heart raced. She was a terrible liar and she was certain her father could see through her. Would he know that she had spent time with Mr. Waverley outside of the ball? Alone?

“If I had known he would have been there, we would never have attended. Let us be grateful that his father was not there or else I would have had to have dragged you away and that truly would have been impolite.”

“Father, there is really no need—”

“I never want to hear of you spending time with him again, is that clear?” he demanded.

Chloe searched her father’s stern gaze. It was rare he scolded her, especially now that she was a grown woman but he was utterly serious.

“Chloe?” he prompted.

She nodded solemnly. She could not bring herself to say the words out loud. If Mr. Waverley’s father was indeed dead, everything would change anyway. But, there was some small part of her that could not bring herself to promise such a thing. More than anything, she hoped to see him again.

“Where are you off to anyway?”

“I – I was just,um, going to check on the border,” she said, aware her voice was turning a little shrill.

“Good. Excellent. I’m glad you are not shirking your duties.” Before he could say anything further, Chloe retrieved her coat and gloves and thrust a hat on her head. She hastened out of the house and moved at pace to the border.

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