Make Me Love You by Johanna Lindsey
Brooke hadn’t considered that. Harriet would be their grandmother, too, whom they would hopefully rarely see. So it would be nice if they had at least one grandmother to love and dote on them. She nodded and went straight to Anna’s room.
The lady wasn’t sleeping this time. As Brooke approached the bed, she saw that Anna was no longer quite as pale, and even her lips were smooth again. Her eyes were fully open and alert now, too. Maybe the doctor had misdiagnosed her. The woman definitely didn’t look as if she was dying now.
“I was wondering if you would visit your patient again.”
Was that a slight smile? “I didn’t think you wanted me to, madam.”
“I admit I don’t make a good patient. I do apologize for that.” That was a nice way to put those horrid circumstances. But Anna wasn’t going to just ignore it, either. “I hadn’t realized how preposterous the threat was, hanging over our heads, yours included. That the Regent would take everything we own, the title, the houses, the coal mines, Dom’s ships. He would leave us paupers, giving us no choice in the matter.”
“I believe he saw this as an opportunity for himself. For that to backfire on him, he would need to think he’s done us a favor instead.”
Anna grinned. “I like the way you think, girl. The same thing occurred to me. Indeed, that would stick in his craw, wouldn’t it?”
Brooke blushed only slightly when she admitted, “I can’t take credit for it. It’s your son’s idea for us to put on a good performance tonight at the ball he’s taking me to, if the Prince is there, to give the impression we are pleased with the match.”
Anna cleared her throat. “I’m not going to pussyfoot around the subject, m’dear. I’m sure you know that Dom did hope you would refuse him. He can unfortunately be excessively blunt. But you haven’t run home. So be it. I accept that neither of you really has a choice in this. So we must make the best of it, all of us.”
A kernel of doubt was in Brooke’s mind that those words were sincere, until Anna added, “And—and thank you for healing his leg and me. I realize you didn’t have to do either, but you’ve helped us anyway. You have a good heart, Brooke Whitworth. Amazing, considering the stock you come from.”
Brooke laughed, couldn’t help it. A compliment and a backhanded slur. But considering her own feelings weren’t far off the same mark, she said, “We don’t get to choose our stock, more’s the pity.”
“I just want my boy to be happy. D’you think you can do that?”
“If he’ll stop blaming me for the sins of others, yes, I do think that’s possible.”
“Then as Dominic said, the burden is on him.”
Chapter Forty-Five
BROOKE HUGGED ANNA’S FINAL words to her as she hurriedly prepared for the ball. They gave her hope. Had she found the family she’d always wished for in the Wolfes?
Dominic said they would leave at eight o’clock, and she only had a few hours to bathe, dress, and have her hair styled, but with Alfreda’s help she managed it.
After combing the last lock of Brooke’s lustrous black hair into place, Alfreda stood back and gazed at her. “You look—” Alfreda didn’t finish. It even looked as if she might cry.
Brooke grinned. “That bad?”
That got a snort out of the maid. “You’ve never looked more beautiful. Your mother has done you proud.”
That got a snort out of Brooke. “All she did was pick the color of the gown. I got to choose the design.”
“I wish she could see you tonight” was said in a mumble, then louder: “I think I will mention to your husband that he should have you painted in this gown.”
“Don’t do that. Aside from the fact that he won’t want any record of me being part of his family, at least not hanging on his wall, his reply will probably make you angry.”
Alfreda’s brows narrowed. “What’s happened to make you lose your confidence?”
“Other than that he jumped on my bargain? Or that his anger is barely below the surface again after he ran into Robert yesterday?”
“What bargain?”
“Never mind. It was just a business deal that might win his friendship someday. I’m at least still hopeful of that. And don’t make me late.”
Alfreda finished fastening the emerald choker to Brooke’s neck. The emerald-tipped pins had already been added to her coiffure, and the bracelet sparkled on her wrist. All three of her ball gowns were made for these jewels, each in different shades of pale green with trimmings to distinguish them. This one was bordered in lime silk with silver sequins. And not one decent mirror in the room other than her small handheld one. But she trusted Alfreda not to let her out the door with anything out of place.
“You should smile when you first see him.”
“So he doesn’t notice the lack of a tucker? He really didn’t like it when I wore that evening gown without one.”
“He liked it, he just didn’t like what it did to him,” Alfreda stated without inflection.
Brooke giggled. She probably shouldn’t have known exactly what Alfreda was implying, so she quickly left the room before the maid wondered about it. And she did smile, since Dominic was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. She’d draped a thin, tasseled shawl across her chest, since she’d rather he not yet see just how low her décolletage was.
It was the first time she was seeing him in evening attire, the black tailcoat, the dark gray waistcoat under it, and a pristine white cravat tied perfectly, and his dark hair tied back so tightly not a lock would escape his queue. Had his valet come to London, too? She tried to imagine Dominic tying that fancy cravat and couldn’t.
“You look very handsome.” She managed not to blush saying it.
“I suppose that pleases you?”
She started to frown until she realized, “Yes, of course, you will have the ladies drooling over you.”
“I’d rather they not actually do that, but as long as you’re pleased, shall we?”
She preceded him out the door to the waiting coach. The driver helped her into it before Dominic could. She sat in the seat on the opposite side of the one where she had sat in the hack the other day, expecting to be across from him, yet when he got in the coach, he still sat next to her. At least there was enough room this time for them not to be touching, though it didn’t seem to matter. He was still too close, still filled her mind too much. Just two more days and she would know if marriage to him would make any sort of difference. . . .
“You will dance with no one but me tonight.”
She glanced aside at him. “Is that normal for an affianced couple? Actually, are we even that?”
“A royal edict negates the necessity of asking, so, yes, we are, which is why you didn’t need a chaperone for tonight. My mother did offer to arrange one, but I declined. I didn’t think you would want a chaperone to overhear you pointing out prospective mistresses to me.”
Her cheeks lit up hotly. “Is that what I’m going to be doing?”
“Isn’t that what you suggested?”
Yes, it was, when she was tossing out incentives to get her bargain sealed. So be it. Bed made, et cetera. She would manage to do this without snapping his head off.
Then she remembered that he probably already had a mistress and had brought home her payment for it. But just to be sure, she asked, “Did you buy me a horse? I was told you came home with one today.”
“I did.”
“Who is she?”
“The horse?”
“Your mistress.”
“I don’t have one yet. The horse is for you to ride while you’re here, since your mare is at Rothdale. Consider it a wedding gift.”
“That was—thoughtful. Thank you. A thoroughbred?”
“Worthy of breeding, yes.”
She grinned to herself and almost asked him to stop the coach so she could go have a look at it, but didn’t want him to know just how pleased she was. This bargain might work out after all, if she could just think of the horses she wo
Chapter Forty-Six
IT COULD HAVE BEEN a dream come true, dancing with the most handsome man in the room at her first ball. It was intoxicating, exciting. Brooke was dazzled and wanted it to never end.
They’d caused quite a stir upon their arrival when Dominic had her heralded as his fiancée. She didn’t need to be warned that London society was aware of Dominic’s duels. With the last one so public, it had definitely made the rounds. But if everyone there didn’t already know that he was now allying himself with the very family whose heir he’d tried to kill, they certainly did now. They just didn’t know why, which became apparent when the couple were stopped several times on the way to the dance floor and she heard such remarks as “Getting your toes stepped on by Prinny doesn’t usually turn out so well” and “Should you be thanking Lord Robert now?” and more bluntly “What did Robert do to warrant . . . ?”
Dominic had simply walked away from that fellow. But the entire room was probably dying to question him about his reasons for dueling in the first place. Which did explain why he seemed reluctant to leave the dance floor and they were now twirling to the fourth dance in a row.
He wasn’t a coward. She knew that well. She guessed he was simply delaying the anger that was bound to get poked by the gossipmongers tonight, and avoiding making a scene because of it. After all, their marriage was not a subject he could be civil about. She could be. If he wanted to keep her close, she could fend off . . . actually . . .
“One simple word will fly through the room and convince them we—”
“Was I supposed to be reading your thoughts?” Dominic cut in.
“You’re rather good at it, so I suspect you know exactly what I was trying to say. But if you aren’t worried about getting badgered with questions about our marriage tonight, then I won’t mention a brilliant way to keep those questions from even being asked.”
“I’m listening.”
“If you kiss me right here and now, people will think the Regent has done us a favor and we are marrying for love.”
“So love solves everything, does it?”
“I have no idea if it does or not. But it does explain what you’re doing here with me.”
“And would ruin my chance of a dalliance forming tonight, or is that no longer your main concern?”
She hadn’t thought of that, only of helping him to avoid an angry scene. She ought to stop putting concerns for him before her own. But she was silent long enough for him to stop dancing and draw her close. He did kiss her right there on the ballroom floor, scattering her thoughts, igniting her passion. She heard a few gasps. One might have been her own. She didn’t care. Nothing mattered when his mouth was moving so sensually over hers. She was about to wrap her arms around his neck when they were jostled apart, another couple twirling right into them.
Brooke laughed. Still smiling, she also took advantage of the moment and took Dominic’s hand to lead him off the floor to the sidelines. No one approached with any rude questions.
She whispered, “I think it worked, or half worked. Though it might take a few minutes for that word to fly through the room.”
“I wasn’t serious about ruined chances.”
“No?”
He shrugged. “It’s been my experience that women tend to want what they think they can’t have.”
She snorted. “What an absurd statement.”
“Then you haven’t experienced it yourself yet. It’s human nature and besets men as well.”
She was quite familiar with human nature, or was he still not being serious?
“Besides,” he added, “there are too many innocents here tonight, so it didn’t matter.”
She hadn’t yet looked at the people there, having been so enchanted by the lights, the glitter, and the beautiful clothes—her husband-to-be. But it was quite nice to know that he viewed innocents as off-limits. “Is this a debutantes ball?”
“No, though this Season’s crop would still have been invited.”
She perused the crowd and concluded, “Not even half the women here are as young as you just implied.”
“Aren’t they? But then they come with chaperones, and very few chaperones are old and doddering.”
She rolled her eyes. “Make up your mind.”
A few more small groups of people did still come over to greet Dominic and get introduced to her, friends of his who wanted to congratulate him on the coming nuptials. One rakish fellow said, “If this is what you get for dueling, Dominic, I need to find someone to challenge.”
Dominic chuckled. “I would recommend a less painful approach.”
The mention of pain had Brooke whisper as soon as they had a moment alone, “How is your pain after four dances? And don’t try to tell me you don’t still have some.”
“You’re aware that I had that wound for a week before you and the fever showed up? It had already started to mend prior to that interruption.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He shrugged. “It’s tolerable, though it could still use your gentle touch. Maybe another love potion would help?”
He was teasing. She was quite certain she had convinced him there had been no love potion. So she only blushed a little. But that he was smiling assured her that the well-wishing from his acquaintances hadn’t annoyed him yet.
But then one old biddy came forward with a new guess: “So it was all about the gel here? The Whitworths were that determined you not have her?”
“I know you love to gossip, Hilary, but do try to restrain yourself from creating fiction. I hadn’t clapped eyes on Brooke until the Prince sent her my way. The hows and wherefores are quite simply none of your business.”
While he might have said it with a smile, his tone had gotten sharp enough for the lady to huff and march away. He wasn’t smiling now. That feral gleam had entered his golden eyes, which might be why no one else approached.
Brooke had time to glance about the room again and note that a quarter of the people present were middle-aged, mothers or fathers escorting their daughters. Nearly half were the young people having their first or second Season, there to find love or at least a good match. It was a marriage mart, as Alfreda had sneeringly called it, but where else in the country could so many young people be gathered in one place to meet? Arranged opportunity was what it was, that had become tradition, and Brooke would have been included in their number if not for . . . She thrust that thought aside.
At least she was certain she’d be the only Whitworth here tonight. Robert had been forbidden to bring his debauchery to parties that included debutantes, the only decent thing their father had ever done, in Brooke’s opinion. She hadn’t overheard that confrontation, but some of the servants had, and she’d caught a few of their whispers about it: “Cost a bleedin’ fortune to keep that scandal under wraps.” “He dipped into the wrong virgin, he did.” “Can’t even attend those parties now. How’s he supposed to find himself a bride, eh?”
But that was last year before the duels. Did Harriet know about the tragic incident involving Eloise Wolfe or the others? Probably not. After all, she still doted on that worthless son of hers. So did Thomas. He never stayed angry at his son for long, though when he did put his foot down, it stayed down.
Still perusing the crowd, she mentioned, “Now there’s a group of ladies your age, and not an innocent in the gaggle. And what about her?”
He followed her gaze and looked as if he was about to laugh. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to convince me that you’re serious.”
He’d never exactly said that he agreed to the bargain. We shall see was all he’d said. So he could just be amusing himself at her expense—or he didn’t think she was serious. Suggesting a young woman who was quite plain-looking would definitely make him think she wasn’t. So she stomped down all regrets and nodded to a pretty woman who might be a few years older than him, but she didn’t t
“Maybe.”
She gritted her teeth and closed her fists on her nails. “You should ask her to dance.”
“I will need to find you a guard dog first.”
“We left the dogs at home.”
She was jesting, so she was a little surprised when he asked curiously, “You consider Rothdale your home?”
She was even more surprised that she did. “Yes, actually. Isn’t it going to be?”
He didn’t answer, said instead, “You might be thrusting mistresses on me, but I’m not thrusting lovers on you. And I’ve spotted the perfect guard dog for you, who will fend off all comers.”
He started to lead her through the crowd. “You’re going to dance with her?”
He glanced down at Brooke. That was amusement in his eyes! “Didn’t you just tell me to?”
“Yes, but—”
“I can at least see if she’s willing.”
“You can determine that from one meeting?”
“Certainly.”
Her eyes snapped together and then flared wide when he stopped in front of the supposed “guard dog” he’d mentioned. Oh, good God, not her mother!
“We met years ago, Lady Whitworth, so you might not remember. Dominic Wolfe.” He gave the slightest bow. “See that your daughter dances with no one else while I am entertained elsewhere—at her insistence.”
Blushing furiously now, Brooke watched him walk across the ballroom in the direction of the very lady she had pointed out to him, the too pretty one.
“Not a wolf after all,” Harriet said. “Or at least, quite a splendid beast. I can’t believe we have something to be grateful to Robert for.”
“Mother, what are you doing here?”
Chapter Forty-Seven
AS DOMINIC WALKED ACROSS the ballroom, he realized it might not have been a good idea to leave Brooke with another Whitworth, especially her mother. Brooke’s parents had had specific plans for their daughter, a Season in London and probably a handpicked husband. He wouldn’t be surprised if Harriet was the one who had pushed Robert into goading him the other day. The whole family would have wanted him to reject Brooke, but when he didn’t, mother and son might still be plotting to that end.