Page 21 of Married to the Rake

Chapter Eight

As he shut the door, Brook pressed a hand to the knot coiled at the top of his spine. He pushed back his shoulders and winced. Really, he should be going to bed but he doubted he would sleep tonight any more than he did last night. He imagined his mother, who was remaining at his father’s bedside, wasn’t getting any rest either. Though his father was doing much better, he was frail—frailer than he’d ever seen him before. Brook shuddered. He never wanted to see him like that again.

He looked at the large grandfather clock that stood at the end of the hallway. He had fifteen minutes to get to the border. He would have to make haste or else leave Miss Larkin waiting. Of course, he need not have left her a letter so soon. He doubted she was expecting one and had little idea if she had been to the border today. But he needed to see her.

Because of his father, of course. He had no doubt the strain of this ongoing argument had caused his father’s heart attack.

It had nothing to do with wanting to see that smile again. Nothing to do with how he felt strange and empty when he was not in her company. All of that was likely a symptom of having been away from London society for too long, that was all.

Brook walked quickly to the border. There was no way he could ride—he’d had to have disturbed someone and then explained why he was heading out at midnight. The assumption would have been he was off on some assignation—which he was—but not the sort people would assume. The last thing he wanted was for Miss Larkin to get wrapped up in some sort of scandal.

A strange tightness lingered in his throat when he spotted the ghostly outline of her not far from the fence. She had come. He felt the demand of a smile pull at the corners of his lips. It would be the first smile he had issued all day but he wasn’t certain he should be smiling at such a time, so he tamped down the temptation.

She, however, offered one herself. It was hesitant, just curving her full, tempting lips. Behind her eyes, even in the dark, he saw sympathy shining.

“You came,” he said as she reached the gate, cursing himself at such an obvious statement.

“Well—” she began at the same time.

Brook paused and motioned for her to continue. Though it was a dark night, Miss Larkin had brought a lantern with her and propped it up on one of the posts. The golden light softened her features and enhanced the red in her hair. Miss Chloe Larkin had never been a traditional beauty and if one analysed her features separately, one would certainly find them wanting in the eyes of many. To him, tonight, she was beautiful.

He closed his eyes briefly. He might want to put an end to this argument between the families, but he did not need to be feeling any…softness toward Miss Larkin. Once they had mended this breach, she would go back to her books and he to London. One night of dancing together did not cancel out their differences, even without the rift between their families.

“How are you? How is your father?” she rushed out.

Aware of the fence dividing them, Brook moved forward to lean his elbows on the wood. He stared briefly out into the darkness, tracing the faint outline of the land ahead of him—land that according to his family was enemy territory. How ridiculous it all seemed that these expanses of fields and wildflowers should be seen as anything other than what they were.

“He is well.” He hesitated. “As well as can be expected, at least. He is in recovery and is very frail.”

She mimicked him, propping her elbows up on the fence and looking sideways at him. “I am glad to hear he is in recovery, though.”

Brook gave a small smile. Her words were genuine even though she really had no reason to offer him such sympathies. They might have joined forces and enjoyed a dance together, but they were far from friends. He had little interest in the argument between the Larkins and Waverleys but he’d never had any interest in Chloe either.

Until now.

But his interest was purely for his father’s sake, he reminded himself.

“It gave us all quite a scare,” he admitted. “It is always hard to see your parents ageing.”

Miss Larkin nodded. “Yes, it is a terrifying thing. I should imagine you—”

“Which is why I think we should push forward with our plans.”

“Oh, I was rather thinking you might just want to stop and spend time with your father.”

“He shall need some time to rest but the stress of this disagreement is too much for him. Even this morning he was fretting over the border. We need to put an end to this as soon as we can.”

Biting down on her lip, she gave him an uncertain look. “My father is already angry that I spent time with you when we danced. It will not be easy.”

“I’m sorry that he is angry with you. Needless to say, last night did not go as I planned.”

“It was certainly different to any other ball I have attended.” She commented.

“That is probably because you were actually dancing rather than hiding away somewhere,” he said dryly.

“Books are far more interesting than people. I still maintain that.”

Brook chuckled. “Even more interesting than present company?” He leaned over the fence a little to close the gap between them. “And here I thought you might have enjoyed dancing with me.”

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