Page 43 of Married to the Rake

“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.

---