Chapter Forty-Eight
brOOKE NEVER DID GET an answer from her mother.
Two of Harriet’s London friends had converged on them immediately for introductions and some sly prying questions.
Brooke didn’t know them, didn’t want to know them, and certainly wasn’t going to explain how she came to be engaged to a man who’d tried to kill her brother.
Harriet evaded explaining as well, though she managed not to be rude about it.
Then Dominic was back and leading Brooke back to the dance floor to finish the set that his previous partner had just walked off on. Brooke was bristling. She blamed it on her mother’s being there, not because Dominic had just propositioned that woman.
“I hope that hurt,” Brooke said without looking at him. It would be a fulminating glare if she did, and she didn’t want him to know she was bristling.
“Why?”
She groaned to herself, but she had a ready answer for him. “Because you failed, of course.”
“I expected you to be deep in conversation with your mother,” he replied nonchalantly. “So you weren’t supposed to see that.”
“Everyone probably saw it, or at least heard it. And my mother has too many friends here, so she barely said a word to me and certainly didn’t distract me from watching your progress—or lack thereof.
At least she didn’t see it. Just what did you say to that woman to make her rebuff you so physically and so quickly? ”
He shrugged offhandedly. “The obvious. It either works or it doesn’t.”
“How often do you get slapped?”
“Not often.”
She huffed. “I’m not going to get any new thoroughbreds this way. Maybe you should use a little more finesse, you know, dance with them a few times, get to know them a little if you don’t already know them.”
“I was merely humoring you, since she was your choice. Charlotte and I actually have history. In fact, a number of my ex-acquaintances are here tonight. But, discounting them, there are still a few women tonight that I haven’t met yet—if you want me to continue.”
She didn’t, but she couldn’t say that, so she forced herself to nod.
He seemed not to care either way, yet the “bargain” had abruptly turned his nasty new suspicions to amusement the other night.
It continued to distract him, too. And she’d rather have the amusement even if it was at her expense, at least until after the wedding.
She definitely didn’t want him cold and forbidding on that night.
She was still holding out hope that the nuptials would change something between them.
Think of the horses, she advised herself, think just of the horses.
He left her with her mother again before he went off to find another lady to dance with.
Brooke stared daggers at his back as he walked away before she started kicking herself mentally.
He’d just given her an out from that absurd bargain and she hadn’t taken it.
What was wrong with her?! But eventually he would be unfaithful to her anyway, wouldn’t he?
Because she’d failed to make him love her.
So she had to stop getting so, so—furious about it.
“We can have a word now,” Harriet said. “Shall we step out onto the terrace for some privacy?”
Brooke took her eyes off Dominic to see that Harriet’s friends had moved on. Brooke followed her outside before she accused, “I thought you didn’t know Dominic Wolfe a’tall.”
“I don’t recall meeting him years ago, but a stripling is nothing like a man. If I had known him, I wouldn’t have been so distraught—”
Brooke interrupted coldly, “Don’t pretend to feelings you don’t have, Mother. And what are you doing here?”
Harriet winced before she sighed. “Your father had business in town. I expect we’ll only be here for a few days.
Thomas suggested I come here tonight to find out how the ton was reacting to the news of the forced marriage.
He wanted me to assure people that we are happy to comply with the Regent’s request to give you to Dominic in marriage. Why aren’t you married yet?”
“Dominic was badly wounded in that last duel and got a delay because of it.”
Harriet glanced toward the ballroom. “He heals quickly, doesn’t he? Your handiwork?”
Brooke raised a curious brow. “You know I’m familiar with healing herbs?”
“Of course I do. You may not have confided much to me over the years, but your maid did.”
“Then why did you never ask us to ease your husband’s pain?”
Harriet snorted. “Because your father doesn’t deserve anything from you—or do you love him just because he’s your father?”
“Are you joking? He was just a man who was occasionally present in the house I lived in—one I avoided. What reason was I ever given to love him?”
“Exactly.”
“But you did despite his callous indifference.”
Brooke felt comfortable making that condemnation. The one she couldn’t utter was to include Harriet in her previous remark no matter if it was true, that she’d never been given a reason to love Harriet, either.
But Harriet surprised her. “What makes you think I ever loved him? I admit I had hoped to when I was still young, but it never happened. I adapted instead, learned to tiptoe around his rages, and made him think I was just as callous as he is. It’s unfortunate that there are people like Thomas in the world, incapable of love, incapable of being loved. I hope Lord Wolfe isn’t like that.”
No, Dominic was nothing like that. At least he loved his family, had been willing to risk his life to avenge the sister he’d loved, had recklessly raced to London he was so worried about the mother he loved. If he could ever feel even half that for her, she could probably be happy.
But all she said to Harriet was “He’s a good man who cares about friends and family.”
Harriet smiled. “When is the wedding to be, then?”
“Sunday.”
“May I come?”
Brooke shook her head. “That’s not a good idea. He and his mother both despise us Whitworths. You can thank your son for that.”
Harriet frowned. “So you are hated?”
“How could I not be when my brother got his sister pregnant. Robert laughed, you know, when she told him. Laughed! It’s tragic that she killed herself because of it.”
“That’s . . . horrible.”
Harriet did look aggrieved, causing Brooke to ask, “You really didn’t know?”
“No, I didn’t. I don’t think your father knew either.
There was another young lady last year we did find out about when her father came to demand Robert marry her.
But Thomas didn’t want that alliance and managed to buy their silence instead, before it became a scandal.
I believe she was convinced to go abroad to have the child.
I had hoped they would give it to us, but Thomas didn’t want it.
It’s appalling that it will be given to strangers instead and I will never get to know my grandchild. ”
Brooke was speechless. It was like listening to someone she’d never before met.
Regret for a bastard her precious Robert had obviously refused to take responsibility for?
How many more bastards were there that her brother had carelessly created before Thomas had put his foot down?
Actually, Thomas had only forbidden Robert from seducing any more innocent debutantes.
He’d placed no restrictions on the rest of the women in England.
But then Harriet added angrily, “If your father has to deal with another of Robert’s scandals, there will be consequences.”
Brooke blinked, wasn’t even sure what Harriet meant until she realized she was referring to what Brooke had just said about Dominic’s sister. “What consequences?”
“Thomas promised to disown him.”
Brooke almost laughed, but still said sarcastically, “Really? The precious heir?”
“You don’t know how angry Thomas was. I’m quite sure he meant it.”
“And how will that matter once Thomas is dead?” Brooke demanded. “He’s old. He doesn’t have that many more years before him. And then there will be nothing to curb Robert’s nefarious tendencies.”
“Nefarious? He’s not a villain. Prone to the same rages your father has and a bit of a rake apparently, but—”
Eyes flared wide, Brooke asked incredulously, “Do you even know your son?”
Harriet looked back toward the ballroom and blatantly evaded the question. “This was to be our triumph tonight. Have you even noticed that the men here can barely take their eyes off of you?”
Brooke hadn’t noticed that, but her eyes had passed over the room when she’d been trying not to watch what Dominic was doing.
She noted quite a few handsome men were present.
She’d even guessed she might have fallen in love tonight—if she had come here with her mother.
One of them even winked at her when her eyes had passed over him.
It hadn’t made her blush. It probably should have, but it had simply had no effect on her.
Her mother wasn’t done. “Yet because you are affianced to the wolf, they won’t approach. But he can’t keep his eyes off of you, either, even though he’s dancing with someone else. Why is he doing that?”
Brooke was able to spot Dominic through the open terrace doors. He was dancing with a third lady, yet another pretty one, too. “Courtesy,” she lied with gritted teeth, still staring at him. “They are friends of his mother’s.”
With raised brow, Harriet turned back to her to ask pointedly, “A bit young to be Anna Wolfe’s friends, aren’t they? You don’t mind?”
Brooke barely heard the question. Dominic just got slapped again! She rolled her eyes and looked at her mother to quip without the smirk she was feeling, “Not yet.”
Harriet sighed. “Robert lied to us. I didn’t realize such a horrific tragedy was the reason for the duels. I didn’t think Lord Wolfe would hate you.”
That was a strong word. It had applied, but Brooke wasn’t sure if it still did, and said, “I’m tolerated, or I was, until Robert showed up and tried to get me to poison him—and made sure to mention to Dominic that I would.”
Harriet actually blanched. “You wouldn’t.”
“If that’s a question, then you don’t know me any more than you—”
“It wasn’t.”
“But that is your son, Mother. Vicious, capable of murder, lacking any moral fiber or scruples. There’s not a good thing that can be said about him except that he is handsome. A pity, that. He should look as wicked as he truly is. And not another word about that toad.”
“Then shall we discuss how jealous you are?”
“Of Robert?” Brooke snorted. “Don’t be absurd.”
“I meant of your husband-to-be.” When Brooke looked away, Harriet added, “No? Well, I need a drink. I suspect you do, too. Shall we?”
Why not? Brooke followed Harriet back inside the ballroom to one of the refreshment tables set about the edges of the room and was amazed when her mother drained a glass of champagne down to the last drop.
So she didn’t hesitate to do the same thing.
Jealous? Was that why she couldn’t stop bristling?