Page 61 of Married to the Rake

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.

“What is all this noise?” Mrs. Waverley stepped through into the hallway and stilled at the sight of them all gathered in the room. Her eyes widened and her skin paled, making her look wan against her dark, gray-streaked hair. “Oh goodness.”

“Mother, all is well,” Brook assured her.

“It is not bloody well!” Mr. Waverley spluttered. “Margaret, go fetch my shotgun,” he demanded.

Mrs. Waverley remained frozen, her gaze darting between them all. Chloe drew in a shaky breath. She should have known this would not be easy but she had rather hoped it would not go as far as both fathers fighting in a duel.

“If you want to shoot me, then shoot me, Waverley,” her father barked. “I don’t think you have the balls.”

“Marcus!” Her mother clapped her hands over Chloe’s ears. “Not in front of the children!”

“I’ve been wanting to shoot you for decades.” Mr. Waverley’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his cane.

“Likewise,” her father shot back.

Chloe tugged her mother’s hands away from her ears and stepped forward, placing herself directly in the middle of both fathers. “We will be gone in a trice,” she promised Mr. Waverley, “and if you choose, you may never have to see us again. But both of you need to hear this.”

“I do not need to hear any word from a Larkin’s mouth.” Mr. Waverley motioned to Brook with his cane. “I told you she was trouble.”

“Father, just listen for once in your life.” Brook put a hand to his father’s cane and forced him to lower it.

“I would rather—”

“It is about Julia,” Chloe said hastily.

Mr. Waverley’s red cheeks paled rapidly. “What did you say?”

“Julia,” her father muttered and Chloe shot a quick glance at her father to see him looking a little faint. Her mother clasped his arm tightly and gave Chloe a nod.

“I found her diary at our house,” Chloe announced. “It was written from before her marriage to my father to just before her death.”

“Damn you to hell, Marcus,” Mr. Waverley muttered.

“I had nothing to with her death!” her father rejoined.

“Please,” Chloe begged, “just listen.” She flicked open the diary and began to read. “My greatest regret will be the rift I caused between Marcus and George. They are both fine men and I wish I had the strength in me to mend their friendship. I wish I had not left it so late. My only hope is that they share their grief for me and help each other once I am gone.”

She lifted her gaze to look at both men. A silence hung over the room, punctuated only by the muffled footsteps of a servant somewhere upstairs.

“She loved you, Papa,” Chloe said softly. “And you, Mr. Waverley.” She turned to Brook’s father. “She did not know how to choose between you both but she followed her heart. No one was stolen from anyone but she understood how much she had hurt you, Mr. Waverley.” Lifting the book, she held it out to him. “You should read this. As should you, Papa.”

---