Page 42 of Married to the Rake

Joanna tatted. “Firstly, do you really believe he is capable of such a thing?” She held up a hand. “I am aware of his reputation—have read all of the gossip columns myself—and even warned you of his reputation before. However, you have good instincts, Chloe. If you like the man, and even have feelings for him, I would trust your instincts. And, secondly, though the marriage might heal the rift between your families in future, do you really believe both fathers will be happy about the match? I highly doubt they would welcome it.”

“If that is the case,” Augusta interjected, “then it would be against his best interests to ask to marry you.”

Chloe inhaled deeply. That was true too. If she told her father she was getting engaged to Brook, goodness knows what he would do. No matter which way she looked at it, it seemed impossible. She could trust Brook and trust her own feelings and marry him and maybe leave herself open to injury as well as disappointing her father or she could continue to deny him…and deny herself. Though it might not fix everything between their families, at least her father would not be angry with her.

“This seems impossible.” Chloe dropped her head to her hands once more.

“It is a difficult decision indeed,” Augusta agreed.

“I think you need to be more certain of your feelings,” Joanna suggested. “If you were, you would not feel so conflicted.”

Chloe lifted her head to her friend.

“Do not forget,” Joanna said, “you had resigned yourself to a life of being a spinster wallflower. Now it is all changed overnight. Be kind to yourself, Chloe. This is not the sort of decision you should make lightly.”

“Yes, you are right.” Chloe smiled gratefully. “Thank goodness I have you two fellow wallflowers or else I would be entirely lost.”

“Augusta and I have to live vicariously through someone!” Joanna chuckled.

“You know you can always come to us.” Augusta leaned in and gave Chloe a little squeeze around the waist.

A light tap on the door was followed by Chloe’s lady’s maid entering. “Forgive me, miss, but your father wants a word with you.” Some sort of warning flittered across Mary’s expression. Dread pooled in her stomach. Whatever this was, it could not be good.

Joanna rose. “We shall leave you but should you wish to…um… go somewhere where a certain other person might be, do not be shy. I am always happy to play escort.”

Chloe smiled gratefully and embraced both of her friends. She rather wished they would stay by her side for the next several weeks until she had handled this Brook situation and her father. It was all becoming a bit much to face on one’s own.

After she waved her friends off, she made her way to her father’s study, moving slowly past the portraits of ancestors that lined the corridor. Pressing a hand to her stomach, Chloe straightened the sleeves of her gown and tapped her knuckles lightly on the study door. Whatever her father wanted, it was likely not to be a good thing. The last time she had been summoned to the study like so she had been fourteen and had been in trouble for teasing her younger brother too much. What had she done now, she did not know, but she was not looking forward to this.

“Come in,” came her father’s voice, gruff and abrupt.

She twisted the doorknob, the clicking sound seeming like the loudest noise in the world. She closed the door behind her, wincing at the creak of hinges, before facing her father. This was silly, and she was not a child anymore. But he was still her father and the last thing she ever wanted to do was disappoint him. What exactly had she done?

She waited a few moments while he finished off a letter, the quill scratching across the paper with quick efficiency. The room was dark, with the curtains semi-drawn. He wrote by lamplight and the scent of the lit wick infused the air. He seemed to take a long time to finish the letter then blotted it slowly as though reveling in her discomfort. She stared at her shoes, eyeing the peach bows and tracing each loop in her mind.

Finally, he looked up at her. Looping his hands together on top of the table, he ran his gaze up and down her. “Do I not give you many freedoms?”

“Yes, Papa.” Chloe frowned.

“Would you not say that you have many more freedoms than other women of your age?”

She nodded, biting down on her bottom lip. Her stomach began to hurt. No wonder she’d suffered misgivings. She had a horrible feeling she knew where this was going.

“I have never pressured you into marriage. Nor have I forced you to partake in activities that you do not enjoy. I let you spend time with your friends and have that Mrs. Lockhart to escort you around.” His jaw tightened and his cheeks reddened.

Gone was the frail, tired old man, she had feared was ageing too rapidly. The tightness in her stomach spread up to her chest, making her heart beat faster.

“Do I not give you all of these things?”

She nodded again.

“Do I not?” he demanded.

“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.

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