Page 45 of The Fighter who Needed Me
Brooks
Whitechapel, England March 1813
Brooks’ life was one fight after another. It was the only outlet he had, and he needed it.
He had stopped fighting in the streets though, as Burk and Carter both had requested, but damn it was not easy.
And then, one morning at breakfast, Lily let out a gasp and dropped the society pages that she was reading as if it were on fire.
He looked up at her as if she had gone mad, and Burk had gone still. “What is wrong love?” Burk asked, and Lily had gone pale.
Burk stood and walked to her side, “Is it the baby? Is all well?”
She nodded, “We are fine. But Burk. It is Persephone. She is back in London.”
Brooks stood so fast his chair toppled over with a crash, “What? She is back?”
He turned to leave, and Lily called after him, “Wait, Brooks. Please.”
Brooks turned, knowing his face was a mask of impatience. “What? I am going to get my wife.”
She looked down at the paper and handed it to him, “She is getting married. She is supposed to wed him in just over a month.”
Brooks took the paper from her and stared down at the words that ripped the remainder of his beating heart from his chest.
Persephone Ann Barrett is set to wed Reginald Blackburn on the fifth day of April the year of our lord eighteen thirteen.
Brooks crumpled the paper in his fist, not reading further and stared straight ahead. There it was. In black and white.
The sight he had refused to want to see.
He dropped the paper to the table and walked out of the salon and down to his horse.
He had to do something, anything. He had to stop this yearning, this madness.
He needed to see the Duchess Penelope. He needed her advice and to see her lawyers. Grant Cooper and Bran Stillwell were the best that London had to offer, and he needed them.
Riding across town to the Duchess’ Mayfair mansion, he felt as if he would lose the contents of his stomach. He hated that he was coming here.
But it was the only solution he could think of. The only way to help Persephone right now.
Pulling up in front, he left his horse tied up and walked to the front door, where it was opened immediately by her butler.
“Is the Duchess in?” Brooks asked and the man nodded, “She is just sitting down for breakfast. Might I take you to her Mr. Parker?”
Brooks nodded and followed along behind the butler until they made it to Penelope’s breakfast room.
She was seated in front of a large fire and had a light green day dress on.
Her hair was pulled into a soft chignon and she did not have as many diamonds and things as she normally did.
She was in the middle of reading the society pages and Brooks felt his heart squeeze seeing the pages again.
She looked up when the door opened and a smile lit her face, “Brooks. Dear boy! How do you fare this day?”
Brooks shook his head, no words wanting to come forth and Penelope’s face grew concerned. “Oh, please. Sit.”
She gestured to a chair and he sat in the seat she wished him to.
