Page 7 of Married to the Rake

Chapter Three

The gall of the man. Chloe tugged off her gloves in irritation and flung them down upon her dressing table. Blowing her hair from her face, she bent, both fists upon the table and eyed her reflection. Just as she thought. Her cheeks were red with annoyance.

To think he expected her to trust him. “Damn that man.”

She could still recall his smug look as she left. He fully expected her to fall at his feet and do his bidding. Well, he might be used to every woman in Christendom doing such a thing but she was not one of those women.

Releasing a long, heated breath, she straightened. What was it with Mr. Waverley and catching her off guard? Could he not run into her tonight, when she was dressed in her finery and no longer had mud-stained hands or wild hair? Though, she supposed that would not help. Mr. Waverley always had the ability to make her feel nothing more than a scruffy scarecrow.

Chloe glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece in the bedroom. Papa was hosting a dinner party tonight and Joanna and Augusta were attending with some of their family members. It was the first time either of her friends had visited her home, despite them all living fairly locally. What a fine distraction it would be from the blasted Mr. Waverley. It had been a couple of weeks since she had seen them last, as neither of their families had left London as swiftly as hers, and she was looking forward to it.

There was a light tap at the door, and Emma, her lady’s maid, entered. “I am glad you are returned, miss. We should start getting you ready.”

Chloe nodded. “Yes, I’d wager it shall take a while to make me ready for the party.”

The maid tilted her head. “You do look rather flushed, Miss. Is all well?”

“Yes…No…I ran into Mr. Waverley today.”

“Ah.” Emma assisted Chloe into her undergarments then gestured for her to sit in front of the dressing table. She ran a brush through Chloe’s hair, Chloe could feel the knots the breeze outside had caused. She so wished she had thinner, more maintainable hair. It always seemed to tie up in knots every time she left the house.

“I had heard the young Mr. Waverley was returned,” Emma said.

“Goodness knows why. I’m sure he is happier in London. More women for him to seduce there,” Chloe said bitterly.

“I hear Mr. Waverley is not well. He has probably returned to look after his father.”

Chloe bit back her next retort. Perhaps the man really had returned with good intentions—at least toward his father. He might be a rake and a scoundrel but from what she knew of him, he loved his family. That still did not mean she trusted him. Even the worst of men could love their families.

“Did he speak to you?” Emma asked.

Chloe hesitated. She was not sure why, though. Emma knew of the rift between their families, having served the Larkins for the past six years. If one worked for the Larkins, one could not avoid hearing of the rift or even sometimes getting involved.

“I…yes, briefly.…”

“Was he very rude to you, miss?”

“Yes. Very.”

Though, now she thought about it, it was not exactly rudeness. It was more that teasing attitude that had her riled. He thought himself the best of men and that frustrated her so. Could he not see why she refused to trust him? Not only was he a Waverley but he had a reputation that no one could avoid. There was barely a week when he was not written of in the gossip columns.

“Well, I am sure it will not be long before he returns to London. No doubt there is another beautiful contessa for him to pursue.” Emma giggled.

Chloe smiled half-heartedly. She was not certain why the idea of him chasing after yet another exotic woman made her stomach pinch. Probably because she felt sorry for the woman. Another in a long line of conquests. It was probably out of solidarity for her sex that she felt such queasiness about the whole matter.

Emma finished styling her hair and added a few sprigs of flowers into the curls. Chloe turned her head this way and that to inspect it in the mirror and nodded with satisfaction. “Considering I have so much hair, you always do a wonderful job, Emma.”

“We had better get you dressed, Miss. We do not have much time after doing your hair.”

Chloe stood and Emma helped her wrangle her curves into an evening gown. Though the gown was only several months old, it had begun to grow tight around her breasts. Curse the damned things. But they never stopped growing. They always made her feel so inelegant and clumpy. Unfortunately, other people did not help. Especially other men. She always felt their gaze landing on them in surprise—as though they had never seen a pair of breasts in their lives before.

“Emma?” her father called through the door before knocking hard, likely with his walking stick.

“You can come in,” Chloe called back.

Papa pressed open the door and stepped through the gap, all bedecked in his finery. He ran his gaze over her and sighed. “I had hoped you were not quite ready yet.”

“Why? Whatever is the matter?”

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