Make Me Love You

  As to her mother’s question, she said, “Yes, it would be nice if we could both be happy.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” the priest said behind them, and ushered them both farther into the room so they could get the ceremony started.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  “TELL ME I’M NOT too late!”

  The door’s bursting open was loud enough, but the crestfallen expression on the intruding lady’s face did more to startle Brooke, shut up the priest, and cause a few gasps. At first, Brooke thought she was one of Dominic’s former mistresses who’d come to object to the wedding. But then she recognized the exceptionally handsome woman from her encounter with her the other day in the Wolfes’ entrance hall.

  “No,” Anna answered from the bed. “You’re just in time, Eleanor—if you bring good news?”

  Eleanor laughed in relief. “The best, m’dear.”

  “Duchess,” Dominic said with a formal bow. “Always good to see you, but Mother didn’t mention you wanted to attend my wedding.”

  “Because I don’t, dear boy. I have instead made sure you don’t have one. You can thank me in the usual fashion, a dozen roses, a bauble, and, oh, I love candy.”

  The woman seemed absolutely delighted to have said all that, either unaware of the shock she’d just delivered or pleased because of it. Theatrics? Maybe the duchess was an actress?

  But Dominic’s frown said he wasn’t pleased by her cryptic statements. “Explain, if you would?”

  “Let me,” Anna said. “I might have misled you, Dom, to think I was acquiescent to this match—”

  “Might have?” he cut in.

  Anna winced a little. “It was good of Lady Brooke to aid in my recovery, but I’m sorry, I still can’t bear the thought of my grandchildren having Whitworth blood. So I asked my dearest friend to intervene and offer the Prince a different alternative.”

  Eleanor rolled her eyes with a chuckle before saying to Dominic, “George owes me money, so he wouldn’t dare not receive me this morning or give careful thought to our suggestion. And I sweetened the incentive by mentioning that you and the Whitworth girl like each other and will indeed marry, so he will get nothing, no money, no property. But if he releases you from this forced marriage prior to its happening, then you’ll donate your coal mines to his coffers and sign a pledge not to engage in any more duels with Robert Whitworth. He agreed on the spot, of course. I knew he would.”

  Brooke was too stunned to speak, too stunned to think!

  But Dominic wasn’t and turned his eyes back to his mother. “I thought you understood you were no longer to make decisions for me. Why didn’t you tell me about this plan before you set it in motion?”

  “I didn’t want to get your hopes up if it didn’t work, but it did, and you can’t deny you aren’t relieved to be done with that despicable family.”

  “Regardless—”

  “That’s quite enough insults,” Harriet cut in sharply. “Thank you, Anna, for giving me back my daughter. She deserves much better than you lot.”

  In high dudgeon, Harriet pulled Brooke out of there. No one stopped her, certainly not Dominic. He was free. He might be annoyed with his mother for not consulting him, but he had to be rejoicing nonetheless. Or he would have stopped her, would have told the duchess no thank you, would have married Brooke today despite his mother’s interference . . .

  Brooke was in shock or she would have said something to him—congratulations, good-bye, something. She didn’t hate him, and they were well acquainted after spending two weeks together. But tears were just under the surface. A single word would have spilled them and she didn’t want to leave his house that way.

  “I will send the coach back for your things. We’re not staying here another moment,” Harriet said on the way downstairs.

  Gabriel was in the lower hall and smiled at Brooke, “Ah, the beautiful bride. But Lady Wolfe, why are you leaving?”

  Before Brooke could reply, Harriet said angrily, “Don’t insult us by calling her that! She’s still a Whitworth.” Then Harriet snapped at the butler as he opened the front door for them, “Tell my daughter’s maid to pack everything of hers and be ready to depart within the hour. Make that fifteen minutes, so send some servants up to help her.”

  Brooke still didn’t say a word. She ought to mention the mare Dominic had bought for her. Alfreda didn’t know about it, but another time would do. She needed to cry, to wash away what she was feeling, but not in front of Harriet. Her mother wouldn’t be the least bit sympathetic and was making a lot of scathing remarks about Anna Wolfe and Wolfes in general. She did seem angry about what had just happened.

  Brooke was taken to another town house not far away, and Harriet did dispatch the coach right back to the Wolfe house before taking Brooke inside and upstairs. Her parents’ London house, she assumed. She wasn’t interested.

  But passing an open doorway she heard, “Eh, what are you doing here, gel?”

  Brooke paused to see her father propped up in his bed frowning at her, but her mother shooed her on. “Two doors down on the left is yours. I will join you in a moment.” Then Harriet said cheerfully as she entered Thomas’s room, “Our Brooke is going to have her Season after all!”

  Brooke continued on to the room Harriet had pointed out and closed the door behind her. The tears came so fast she could only take a few steps before her vision blurred from them. She didn’t know how long she stood there, but the outpouring wasn’t washing away this grief.

  When she felt loving arms around her, she turned toward them gratefully, sobbing, “Freda, he didn’t want—”

  “Oh, my precious. He was supposed to fall deeply in love, not you.”

  Brooke stepped back abruptly, shocked yet again. Comfort from her mother? She quickly wiped her eyes and turned aside. “I’ll be fine. I just wasn’t expecting to not be married today, and to listen to so much crowing . . . was one too many surprises.”

  “You don’t have to explain. You thought he would be your husband, so you let yourself love him. Your jealousy last night suggested you did. But I was hopeful that you two could get past that and be happy.”

  “I don’t understand. You want me to be happy?”

  “Of course I do,” Harriet said softly.

  Brooke didn’t believe it and got angry at herself that she wished she could. “Don’t pretend you loved me at this late date, Mother. Don’t you dare!”

  “I warned you she felt neglected and unloved,” Alfreda said angrily as she entered the room.

  Servants began following Alfreda in with Brooke’s trunks and were directed where to set them. Harriet’s expression had turned impatient over the interruption. Brooke turned away, trying to think of anything other than what had happened today.

  But Alfreda wasn’t done scolding. “She went too many years without love, Harry. The times you paid attention to her when she was growing up and Robert and Thomas were away were too few and far between. She doesn’t remember how much love you gave her when she was a baby. She remembers none of it!”

  Hearing her mother called Harry turned Brooke back around in surprise. She’d never heard Alfreda talk to her mother like this, as if the two of them had been best friends or confidantes for years. Alfreda looked as angry as she sounded as she pushed the last servant out and closed the door on them.

  But Harriet was now livid at the condemnation she was getting from a servant. “Go!” Harriet pointed stiffly at the door.

  Alfreda crossed her arms instead and blocked that door. “I’m not going. I’m making sure she gets told this time.” Then suddenly in a softer tone: “Our poppet is full grown, Harry. She doesn’t need protecting anymore.” Then more sternly: “And I’m releasing myself from my promise, so you tell her or I will.”

  “This is the worst possible timing, Freda,” Harriet said in exasperation. “She’s got a broken heart.”

  “She’s had one of those for nigh fifteen—”


  “Enough!” Brooke snapped. “Either tell me what you’re arguing about or don’t, but stop acting like I’m not standing here listening to every word.”

  The two older women only glared at each other for another moment before Harriet put an arm around Brooke’s shoulders and led her to a long sofa. She hadn’t noticed it or anything else about the room. But she sat down with her mother and waited, almost with bated breath. She had to fight again to keep the tears back, deeper ones, more familiar ones. . . .

  Harriet took Brooke’s hand and turned to face her. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I honestly thought you knew it, at least sensed it—”

  “I—”

  Harriet put a finger to Brooke’s lips. “Please don’t refute it again until I’ve finished. Robert was jealous of you when you were born, too jealous. I don’t know why he didn’t grow out of it. I gave him just as much attention as I gave you, but he didn’t like me giving you any. I didn’t know what he was doing, sneaking into your room late at night. When Alfreda discovered your bruises, she told me. I tried to have Robert sent away, but your father wouldn’t allow it, so I had to distance myself from you just to protect you. And he was always lurking around corners, that boy, watching, listening, almost as if he were trying to catch me in the lie. I hated that situation. You can’t imagine how much it hurt for me to pretend I didn’t care when I loved you so much.”

  “You could have explained that to me.”

  “When? While you were still a child? You were too impulsive and naturally demonstrative. I was afraid that if you hugged or kissed me when Robert was around, he would get even more vicious or cause some serious accident. I couldn’t take that risk. But I was with you when they weren’t around. Surely you remember that?”

  “It was too late. All I remember is being rebuffed.”

  “Is it still too late?” Harriet had some tears in her own eyes.

  Brooke was incredulous that she ended up comforting her mother that day. But all she’d ever needed to hear were those three simple words. It was amazing how quickly they could ease all that old pain.

  She smiled and hugged her mother close. “It’s never too late.”

  Much more was said, but none of it mattered now that Brooke understood her mother’s past actions and behavior. Harriet’s keeping her from dining with the family was to shield her from Thomas’s harshness and his notice. Robert took the brunt of that harshness. Harriet’s fighting so bitterly with Thomas that he even struck her occasionally, but when he slapped Brooke the one time she let her temper loose on him was when Harriet knew she had to convince him she was on his side in everything and come up with ways to keep Brooke away from him. Alfreda had reported to her every single day, every single thing that Brooke had done or learned. They had become good friends.

  “I was so looking forward to this Season of yours and getting you away from Thomas for good, before he realized what a prize you are and started plotting for a marriage you would have liked even less. When we got the Regent’s edict instead, I did hope you would be happy with Lord Wolfe. I thought surely he would be getting on his knees and thanking Prinny for giving you to him. I even laughed, imagining it. But it turns out he’s a fool instead, preferring vengeance to his own happiness. So be it. We will find you someone wonderful so you won’t need to give him another thought.”

  If only that were possible. Maybe in the next century. But Brooke could try.

  “Oh, so now she deserts us,” Harriet said as she got up and saw that Alfreda had quietly left. “Come, I’ll help you unpack. I hope you like the room. I had it redecorated for you to use during your Season.”

  Harriet started opening the trunks and carrying piles of clothes to a prettily carved bureau. Brooke wondered if her mother had ever before unpacked a trunk in her life. But Brooke got up to help, even if it was absently. Too much had happened that day, finding out about her mother’s ulterior motives, finding out how much Anna Wolfe hated her, finding out how relieved Dominic was to be rid of her, even if it did cost him some coal mines. He’d probably thanked Anna as soon as Brooke was out of the room for doing what he hadn’t thought to do, bribing the Regent to go away. Why hadn’t he thought of that himself? Or did he?

  “What are you doing with this old thing?” Harriet said as she opened a fan with a flip of her wrist, then grinned when a paper fell out of one of the panels. “Hiding love letters?”

  Brooke was surprised. “No, that’s not even mine. It belonged to Eloise Wolfe. I should return it to Dominic.”

  “That poor girl.” Harriet picked up the folded paper and set it with the fan on Brooke’s new vanity. “I need to tell Thomas what you said about Robert last night. I might love my son because he is my son, but I don’t like what he’s become and if he’s now plotting murder—”

  “Don’t say anything about that.” Brooke admitted, “I was angry when I said what I did, and angry when Robert handed me that vial. I only assumed it was poison, while he said it wasn’t and I didn’t even check it to be sure, so it might not have been. I do hate him. If he got disowned, I wouldn’t shed a tear about it. But he can’t be accused of worse than what you already knew about, his seduction of innocents, and he apparently hasn’t done any more of that since Thomas warned him not to. Besides, Dominic is signing a pledge to leave him alone now. That should be the end of it.”

  “I think I’ll have him watched, anyway, just to be sure. It won’t be the first time I’ve had to.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  LUNCH AND THEN DINNER; Brooke was beginning to think Harriet was never going to leave her side that day. Brooke didn’t mind at all. She was also used to Harriet’s nonstop chatter, but today it didn’t seem at all nervous the way Brooke remembered it from her childhood. Today Harriet was just keeping Brooke’s mind off him. And it mostly worked.

  “Your father would like a word, some bit of formal speech now that you’re having your Season.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Not today, of course. I’ve explained that you’re upset. He doesn’t deal well with ‘upset.’ But sometime this week? It will keep him from coming downstairs to see for himself whom you’re receiving.”

  “I’m not receiving anyone.”

  “You will. I’m accepting every invitation I have, and there will be a lot more after it’s announced that you’re a true debutante now.”

  “Don’t overdo it,” Alfreda had cautioned during this discussion. “She needs some time to get over the fact that the wolf let her walk out his door.”

  “Nonsense,” Harriet disagreed. “She needs distractions, lots and lots of distractions so she doesn’t have time to think about that—”

  Alfreda had interrupted to tell Brooke, “Give him a week and he’ll be knocking on your door.”

  She gave him two weeks, two hectic weeks, but she didn’t see Dominic at even one of the events Harriet had taken her to, and then she finally found out why from his friend Archer. Dominic had returned to Rothdale almost immediately after their—broken wedding. His leaving London and apparently giving up on her made her even sadder. She wished she were back at Rothdale, too. So many memories she had from her time in that wild, beautiful north country, the fun she had getting to know Dominic, riding Rebel across the moors, finding Storm. How many times could one heart break?

  But her mother did her best to fill her days with distractions. She was surrounded by suitors at each event, and they were certainly knocking on her door. She did become as popular as Harriet had predicted.

  Brooke was able to avoid that talk with her father for at least a week by tiptoeing past his door—why was it always left open?—or running past it when she heard him talking with a servant. But he did finally bark her name, forcing her to enter that room. He still hadn’t recovered from this trip to London. She still wasn’t willing to help with the aching joints keeping him abed, especially now that she knew her mother didn’t even like him, and Harriet had balked when Brooke had suggested it a few days
ago, claiming, “You don’t want him downstairs scaring away your suitors.”

  But maybe she did. She wasn’t exactly interested in any of those suitors yet.

  “You have some names for me?” Thomas had demanded when she reached his bedside.

  “Names?”

  “Your mother has assured me that if we leave you to it, you’ll make a better match than we can arrange for you. So tell me who you’re considering? And speak up, gel. I’m bloody well hard of hearing.”

  This was last week and she couldn’t remember a single name that day because she wasn’t ready for this debut now, she couldn’t stop thinking about Dominic, and she still just wanted to cry. So she gave him the only name she could think of, even though she’d only seen the man one other time since that ball she’d attended with Dominic.

  “Archer Hamilton.”

  “Really?” Thomas had seemed surprised. “I know the Hamiltons, the marquis and I belong to the same club. Good stock, influential, rich. His son will do, even if the boy’s not in line for the title. Who else?”

  She’d actually invented some other names, which he promptly refused with a “No, don’t know him” and “No, don’t know him either,” and then said sternly, “Stick with the Hamilton pup.”

  She’d assured him she would when she certainly wouldn’t, but it let her get out of there. She had other things on her mind after she’d read Ella’s hidden letter. Then the tears stopped after she got that gift from Dominic a few days later.

  The note with it simply said, For your birthday. No salutation, no well-wishing, and no signature. But only Dominic would commission the picture in that locket for her, and he must have done it before the cancellation of their wedding and arranged, before he left town, for it to be delivered to her when it was finished. Inside the locket was the tiniest painting of the head of a white dog—or wolf. Storm. She was incredulous that he’d still sent it on to her instead of just throwing it away. But that’s when she decided to win him back by finding proof that Ella didn’t intend to die—at least not before she had her baby first. If her mother would just stop accepting invitations long enough so she could . . .