Make Me Love You
It was a shame they didn’t see one another more often. Benton had been in the west courting a duke’s daughter, had apparently started wooing her before she came of age to get his foot in the door. Now that was dedication, Dominic thought, to court a woman that long, but he hadn’t seen Benton often since his friend had decided on that path, to know if he’d succeeded. But he guessed that was what they were celebrating. Archer visited Rothdale occasionally, so Dominic got to see him more often.
Getting a table, Archer ordered drinks. Dominic felt compelled to note, “You look tired.”
“I am tired. Did I not mention I’ve been up all night making sure Benton didn’t get robbed while he slept?”
“You could have taken us home,” Benton pointed out. “I would have appreciated a bed instead of a table.”
“But where’s the fun in that, eh?” Then Archer turned to Dominic. “So tell us, is she at least pretty, this chit Prinny wants you to marry?”
“Wants? What exactly have you heard?”
“It’s swirling around town that you’re going to marry Whitworth’s sister,” Archer said. “He’s been crowing about it, you know, claiming the Regent himself got you off his back so he won’t have to fight any more ridiculous duels with you. Is he really that chummy with Prinny?”
“I doubt he even knows George. But our Prince found out the last duel wasn’t the first. And now he’s going to strip me of everything if I don’t ally with the Whitworths in marriage to end my vendetta.”
“What the deuce did Whitworth do to warrant more’n one duel?” Benton demanded, angry on Dominic’s behalf.
“I would as soon not display my rage in this fine establishment,” Dominic replied. “Leave it go.”
“Really?” Archer complained. “You still won’t fess up? We need to get him foxed, Benton.”
Dominic rolled his eyes. He probably could tell them what Robert had done, they were his closest friends, after all. But his mother would never forgive him if it somehow got out. He wouldn’t forgive himself, for that matter.
So he changed the subject by asking Benton, “If you’ve been celebrating, does that mean your lady has said yes?”
Benton beamed. “We’re to be married next month. You’re both invited, of course.”
“Then congratulations are indeed in order. But you do give new meaning to the word perseverance. Did it really take two years to win her?”
Benton grinned. “No, she was in love with me within a month. It took two years to win over her father!”
They laughed. Dominic ordered another round. But when Archer started to nod off, Dominic told Benton, “It looks like he really did keep vigil all night. Get him home. I’ll see you both later this week.”
Leaving his friends, Dominic took a hack to Bond Street to find Brooke a brush and comb set, something beautiful and special, a token of thanks for making this trip with him with few objections. He’d expected more. Any other lady he knew would have been railing at him most of the way. But not Brooke. The woman defied description. She’d faced his animosity with smiles and a stubborn resolve. She was too logical, too pragmatic—too accepting. And too hopeful? Did she really want this marriage? Or was she just more afraid of what would happen if she refused it? Maybe a little of both.
He thought about everything that had happened since she’d arrived at his door and was surprised he had so many memories of her already—and that he recalled every one, even smiled at a few. She was amazing, bold, intelligent, beautiful. And fearless, or mostly so. The woman had met a wolf in the wild and hadn’t run from it! Or perhaps she just hid her fears well? She did have a temper, not a harsh one, not one that lasted long. An interesting temper.
She was also sensual and bold for a virgin, yet she’d been just that. And she wanted him. That thought was never far away. She’d wanted him.
He found her the brush set in one of the first shops he passed, then recalled that she was having a birthday around the day they were to marry. He stopped in a few more shops that offered mostly jewelry, but nothing caught his eye until he saw the gold-etched cameo surrounded by tiny light green peridots that nearly matched the color of her eyes. He bought it, only to find out it was actually a locket. Presenting her with an empty locket seemed like only half a gift, so he went in search of an art gallery and found one after he crossed into Old Bond Street.
Shopping done, he headed north again, keeping an eye out for a hack to get him home sooner. So he wasn’t looking at the line of shops he passed and didn’t see the man who’d just stepped out of one of them. He didn’t hear the hail, either. But he definitely couldn’t miss Robert Whitworth suddenly stepping in front of him, blocking his way. Or the similarities between the two siblings, which were made more remarkable with the man standing this close to him—the same light green eyes, the same black hair.
“Well, well, my soon-to-be brother-in-law,” Robert said with a sneer.
“Still gadding about London ruining virgins, Whitworth? That is your forte, isn’t it? I’m surprised someone else hasn’t disposed of you for me by now.”
“And I’m surprised my dear sister hasn’t poisoned you yet. She promised she would—oh, I understand now, she’s waiting until after the wedding, I suppose.”
It felt like a physical blow to his gut. Dominic didn’t breathe for a moment. But it was obvious that Robert was just spewing venom to goad him. “She’s nothing like you,” he said contemptuously.
Robert laughed derisively. “She charmed you, did she? You actually fell for that? She did turn out prettier and more clever than I expected.”
The urge was there, powerful, immediate, to kill the man with his bare hands despite there being several dozen pedestrians to witness it. But sanity prevailed, just barely. Dominic still landed a solid punch to Robert’s cheek that made him stumble backward several feet.
The surprised look Dominic saw on his enemy’s face wasn’t appeasing in the least. But it quickly turned murderous until Dominic took a step toward him. Robert moved back even more. He wasn’t a fighter, he was a coward, a seducer of innocents, an immoral blackguard of the worst sort.
“We aren’t related yet, Whitworth,” Dominic spat out. “When we are, you can expect a lot more of that.”
Chapter Forty-One
“YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND, miss, that Lady Anna has quite a temper and often says things she doesn’t mean,” Mr. Hibbitt said as he collected Brooke’s empty lunch plate from the kitchen worktable. “Why, just last month our lady got so annoyed at the staff that she fired all of us, then spent two days tracking us down to rehire us and warned us never to take her mass firings seriously again.”
Brooke laughed, realizing the cook was trying to cheer her up. The short, corpulent fellow was quite different from the Rothdale cook, whom she hadn’t fully won over yet. This one was quite talkative. But the remark also made her guess that the whole staff must already have heard about her unpleasant first visit to Lady Anna’s room. She had heard some of them whispering while she was making the broth for Anna. When Mary, Anna’s personal maid, had come in to fetch her lady’s lunch tray and Brooke had added the bowl of broth to it, Mary had insisted that Brooke taste the broth first.
Brooke had been shocked, but she’d kept her tone neutral when she’d replied, “I’ve already had a bowl. So has the kitchen staff, since it needs to be made fresh daily and will otherwise go to waste. Made with strained garlic and a few other beneficial vegetables, it’s believed to aid in repairing tissue damage in the lungs, but it is still quite tasty if you’re partial to garlic. And you must see that your lady drinks every drop of it, or Lord Wolfe will be informed that you are hindering his mother’s recovery.”
The girl, red cheeked, had left with Anna’s tray immediately, but Brooke was still smarting over the insult to her and its being witnessed by the kitchen staff.
The kitchen had gotten quite hot while lunch was prepared. As she wiped her brow, Brooke asked Mr. Hibbitt, “Is there a garden?”
“A small one behind the house. Nothing as fancy as the gardens at Rothdale, but it may still be cool there at this time of day. It’s just off the morning room.”
Brooke smiled and left the kitchen to find the morning room, but passing through the main hall, she saw a grand-looking lady entering the house and heard Willis say, “Duchess, always a pleasure.”
“Is my dear friend any better, Willis? She didn’t mention her health in the note I just received from her.”
“Not yet, but with Lord Wolfe’s arrival, we may soon see improvement.”
“Indeed, that should cheer Anna.” Then the lady spotted Brooke and ordered imperiously, “You there, send up a pot of tea for me to your lady’s room and do hurry.”
Brooke might be disheveled from the hours she’d spent in the kitchen, but to be mistaken for a servant was one too many insults in one day. She replied stiffly, “I’m not a servant, I’m Lady Brooke Whitworth.”
“Harriet and Thomas’s girl? Hmmph!” The lady marched toward the stairs.
Brooke swung about and headed to the back of the house, trying not to grit her teeth. Stepping out into the garden a few moments later, she took a deep breath to calm herself. The small area was filled with summer blooms that offered quite a few different scents, and several short fruit trees for a bit of shade. Stone statues of different sizes were set throughout the garden, with even an ornate fountain at the center. She could hear horses beyond the back fence and went up on tiptoe to see a long stretch of mews where horses and carriages were kept, likely shared by the block.
Heading to the fountain to sit down, she bent over to pick a rosebud, so she was quite startled when she heard Dominic say behind her, “Looking for poisonous plants?”
She straightened slowly, but her frown was immediate. “Why would you say that to me? You know I only use herbs to heal people.”
“Didn’t you try to put something quite different in my wine the other night and ended up drinking it yourself?”
She sucked in her breath. He was guessing, he had to be guessing, but her sudden red cheeks were probably why he added with a sensual smile, “The results were quite memorable.”
She had been far too embarrassed to say anything about the love potion and hoped he hadn’t noticed any difference in her behavior that night so she wouldn’t have to. But he didn’t appear to be displeased by what he’d guessed, quite the opposite. She still couldn’t bear to own up to it, when it smacked of desperation on her part.
So she admitted part of the truth. “Rory’s mother suggested I seduce you, since it might well have been our last night—ever.”
He laughed. “And here I thought you actually had a potion that would send you running to my bed. Too bad.”
Was he really amused? There seemed to be some underlying tension—and he did just mention poison. “In any case, you must know—”
“No, I’d have to be a bloody idiot to believe that you would kill me before or right after the wedding. That would implicate a Whitworth. Or does he not care if you’re the one who gets hanged for it?”
She was confused. “What are you—” She paused with a gasp, guessing. “You saw Robert!”
“The devil is whom I saw,” he snarled.
“What maggot did he put in your head?”
“That you promised him you would poison me!”
She sucked in her breath before she slammed both of her palms against his chest. “And you believed him? Why would I? I aided you. You might also recall that I told you several times I don’t like him any more than you do. He did suggest that I poison you after we are married, but it was too preposterous to even merit an answer from me, much less a promise. And truthfully, I didn’t really think he was serious, though he also warned me not to like you, said it would be disloyal to my family if I did.” She snorted. “I have no loyalty to them. So don’t you dare accuse me again of something I haven’t done or would ever do. I help people. I don’t kill them. And if you are not willing to be logical about this, then I have nothing more to say to you.”
She started to walk past him in high dudgeon, but he grabbed her arm. “I didn’t believe him. But he did warn me that you turned out more beautiful and clever than he expected and shouldn’t be trusted.”
“Because he’s a vicious, destructive person who wants to enrage you and remind you that he’s still walking around unscathed while Ella is dead because of him! I knew the vicious child, I never tried to know the man, preferred to just avoid him altogether. Maybe he hoped you would challenge him right then to another duel, leaving the Regent no choice but to punish you for it. Or he could have hoped you would bring your anger to me, which you did. Killing me would certainly stop you from trying to kill him again since you’d be in prison for it. I’m just guessing. I simply don’t know what his motives are or what he’s capable of these days.”
“He’s capable of driving young women to their death and getting away with it!” Then Dominic added, “I don’t want you giving my mother any more of your teas or magical potions.”
Good God, it felt as if they were right back where they’d started. “Too late!” she said with a furious glare. “She’s already had a full pot of my tea and the broth today. But don’t worry, her maid already insulted me by wanting me to drink it first!”
“That’s not a bad idea. Very well, you can give your recipes to Mr. Hibbitt, who will indeed test them first. But I think it would be better if you just stay away from my mother altogether.”
She brushed past him, tossing over her shoulder, “I think it would be better if I just stayed away from you!”
Chapter Forty-Two
ON HER WAY FROM the garden to her room, Brooke stopped in the library to grab a book to occupy her for the rest of the day. She was too upset to even look at the titles first. A history of London, not bad for a blind choice, she thought when she was comfortable in her reading chair. But she couldn’t concentrate on reading when she was so upset that her relationship with Dominic was deteriorating thanks to his mother’s antipathy and her brother’s stirring up trouble between them.
As the hours passed, she got more and more downhearted because the progress she thought she had made in making him love her during those last days at Rothdale when they seemed to bond over Storm was undone. She’d been so sure more doors to his heart had opened during their journey to London, when he’d given her the most wonderful night of her life, introducing her to the most remarkable pleasures, and he’d been so sweet and protective of her. All that was undone, too. Now she was afraid Dominic was back to hating her as much as he hated Robert.
Yet she couldn’t give up. The marriage still had to happen. Besides, while the situation with the Wolfes and their servants wasn’t great, she would have a better future as Dominic’s wife than she would have if she returned to her family.
Maybe it was time to bargain with him for one of those marriages of convenience Alfreda had told her about. Or maybe a real bargain in which she gave him something he might want in exchange for—what? She gave it a lot of thought, but could only come up with one thing that would make it palatable for him and not cost him—much. At least he would believe she was serious when he heard what she would accept in return. So she was quite willing to join him for dinner when a maid showed up with the invitation.
But she was still smarting over what he had said to her today, including his pretty much accusing her of trying to poison his mother! So even though she gave him a tight smile when she entered the dining room, she asked, “Is your cook dead yet?”
He laughed. “No, but my mother is breathing easier.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You can thank me by not yelling at me anymore.”
“I don’t yell.”
“You did.”
“This is a yell!” he yelled to prove his point.
It sounded the same to her. He stood up and pulled out the chair next to him. She sat down in the chair at the opposite end of the long table. It looked as if he might rectify
that, standing there a long moment debating whether to put her where he wanted her. She sighed in relief when he started to sit back down in his chair, but apparently he reconsidered and came down to her end of the table and sat in the chair to her right.
If she weren’t still so utterly disgusted with him, she might have laughed. Concessions when he’d been so cold and suspicious earlier? But she was mostly angry at her brother, for putting her back to day one with Dominic.
He was wearing a fresh shirt, minus a coat. He’d also been properly dressed as an elegant lord earlier in the day, so he obviously kept a full wardrobe of clothes at this house. Her gown was fresh, if a bit wrinkled. She could have asked one of the maids to steam it, but would probably have been ignored.
“If you’re going to continue my suggested regimen for your mother, you need to make sure she drinks at least four cups of each of the two teas.”
“You can do that. She won’t fight you anymore.”
“You can. Whatever you told her to change her mind about me isn’t going to really change her attitude any more than it does yours.”
“It’s not about you, it’s about lack of choice and what can be lost.”
She snorted at him. “What makes you think my family saw it any differently? I was promised Bedlam for the rest of my life if I balked at this marriage. We could have seen it differently, you and I, but you decided I can’t be trusted. So be it. Why don’t we put that on the table and agree we will never trust each other?”
“You have no reason not to trust me, while I—”
“Ha! When you listen to my brother’s lies about me?”
“I’ll concede I listened when he said you turned out more beautiful and clever than he expected.”
She stared at him incredulously; he said that so calmly, almost as if he were teasing, but he couldn’t be, not about this subject. So she clamped her mouth shut. The food started arriving. She ignored it for the moment. So did he. He seemed to be waiting for a rejoinder. Did he want to fight? She decided not to give him the satisfaction.