Chapter Two
NOW THAT THEY WOULD be looking for her, Brooke quickly abandoned her crouching position below the open parlor window and ran straight for the stable. She’d heard it all, even what the emissary had said to her parents. She had been on the way to the stable when the man arrived in his fancy coach, and she’d been too curious not to stay and find out why he was there. Her parents rarely had visitors. They didn’t socialize at home, only when they went to London, so they had few friends in the shire. And they never told her anything, which was why eavesdropping had become a habit.
They would look for in her room first, then the conservatory, then the stable, her three haunts. She didn’t want to be found yet so she didn’t stop to check on the stallion’s sprained right foreleg or greet the new foal. She simply urged the stableboy to hurry with her mount, Rebel. She’d named her horse that because it was what she was, at heart anyway. She despised most everything about her life and wanted to change it. Of course she was powerless to change anything and had finally accepted that.
She didn’t wait for the groom, who was off having his lunch. It wasn’t mandatory that he accompany her since she was only allowed to ride on Whitworth land. That land was extensive, though. Only a quarter of it was devoted to the large sheep farm that had made the Whitworths rich in the wool trade for decades. Not that anyone in her family had ever sheared sheep! But the rest of the land was open or wooded, allowing for a good gallop, which is what she needed today. She wanted ample time to digest everything she’d just overheard before her parents shared the “news” with her.
Her immediate reaction was extreme disappointment that Robert’s dueling was going to cost her the Season in London that she’d been promised. The planning of that trip had brought her and her mother together. Brooke hadn’t seen that much of her mother in years. If Brooke didn’t know better, she might even have thought Harriet had been excited about it.
Brooke would have been packed and ready to leave for London soon. She already had the trunks and the new wardrobe to go in them. Harriet had been giving her a Season in London not because Harriet wanted to or thought it would please Brooke, but because it was what society expected of her parents, and Harriet always did what was expected of her. Brooke had never looked forward to anything as much as she had that promised trip. So much for promises.
Then the fear hit her. She would have to marry a complete stranger. But as she and Rebel raced across the meadow, she realized this change of plans might be a blessing in disguise because it was a quick, sure way of getting away from her family. She had been worried that she’d go to London and not fit in because she had so few social skills, that she might not find a man who would marry her. That worry was gone now.
In the end, the disappointment and the fear were still with her, yet she was hard-pressed to get a smile off her lips. She’d never before experienced such contradictory emotions, but she supposed her fear of this unknown man who would be “as likely to murder her as to bed her” and lived far away couldn’t cancel out her delight at leaving home. Being thrown to a wolf was not the escape she would have preferred, but anything was better than living with a family that didn’t love her.
She slowed her horse when she came to the woods and took the path she usually used when accompanying her maid, Alfreda, on an herb-gathering expedition. They’d created the path themselves on their many trips to the deepest part of the forest. Alone there in a small clearing flooded by sunlight, she dismounted and looked up at the sky and screamed her rage, then cried out her fear, and finally laughed with relief that she would be out from beneath the thumbs of the heartless people whose blood she shared.
God, she would not miss this place or these people . . . well, except for the servants. Alice, the upstairs maid, had given her a box of hand-embroidered ribbons for her Season. Brooke had cried when she realized how much time and love had gone into making them. Or Mary, the cook, who always had a hug and a pastry for her. Or William, her groom, who went out of his way to make her laugh when she was in a dismal mood.
But she would be inconsolable if her maid couldn’t go with her to Yorkshire. She would miss Alfreda Wichway too much. The maid had been with her since the week Brooke was born when Harriet’s milk had dried up and Alfreda, having just lost her own baby, had been hired as a nursemaid. Then Alfreda had become her nanny, then finally her maid. Thirty-three now and with black hair and eyes so dark they could be considered black as well, Alfreda was more a mother to her than Harriet had ever been. She was also Brooke’s dearest friend. Earthy, bossy, outrageously blunt at times, Alfreda wasn’t the least bit servile and considered herself the equal of anyone. Brooke spent much time tending plants in the conservatory so that Alfreda would have the herbs she needed year-round.
The villagers of Tamdon relied on Alfreda to cure their ills. They came to the kitchen and passed their requests through the kitchen staff to Alfreda, who then passed her herbal remedies back the same way in exchange for coin. Alfreda had been helping people for so long that Brooke imagined she was rich by now. Even though people called her a witch instead of a healer, they still came begging for her potions. Alfreda wasn’t a witch; she just had ancient knowledge of the medicinal properties of plants and herbs that had been passed down through generations of her family. Alfreda kept her healing skills a secret from Brooke’s family out of concern that they would accuse her of witchcraft and cast her out of their household.
“You usually have reason to rage and cry, but why are you laughing? What has pleased you, poppet? The London trip?”
Brooke ran toward Alfreda as the maid stepped out from behind a tree. “Not London, but a trip nonetheless. Come, I have somewhat good news to share.”
Alfreda laughed. “Somewhat? Have I not taught you the peril of contradictions?”
“This one can’t be helped. I am being given in marriage to an enemy of my brother’s, not by choice, of course, but by the Prince Regent’s request.”
Alfreda raised a brow. “Royals don’t make requests, they make demands.”
“Exactly, and threaten dire consequences if their demands are not met.”
“You would refuse to comply?”
“Not me, my parents. But they have decided not to see if the Regent is bluffing and will send me to this man instead. Robert thinks the man will refuse me, so I may not be forced to marry him after all.”
“You still haven’t said what pleases you about this arrangement.”
“I will marry him willingly if it means I will be done with my family for good. And he has one thing in his favor: he’s tried to kill my brother three times. For that I am already inclined to like him.”
“The recent duels your parents spoke of?”
“Yes.”
“Honor is usually satisfied with one duel. Did you ever find out why there were three?”
Brooke smiled because Alfreda knew of her proclivity for eavesdropping. “My mother asked Robert the last time he was home, but he fobbed her off, saying it was just a trifle, not worth mentioning. It was obviously more’n that, but when my father asked him today what had incurred this northern lord’s wrath, Robert claimed he didn’t know. But you and I are well aware that he is a liar.”
Alfreda nodded. “At least you have common ground with this man they will give you to. That is a good start.”
“Well, yes, we have in common a dislike of my brother, but I didn’t try to kill Robert as he accused me of doing when I was a child,” Brooke said adamantly. “I really did trip that day when I was trying to beat him to the bottom of the stairs and stumbled into his back instead. I was lucky and caught the railing, whereas he tumbled to the bottom. Yet he claimed I pushed him deliberately and my parents believed him, of course, as they always do. So I was confined to my room until he was hale and hearty again, but I swear he pretended to need an extra few weeks for his sprained ankle to mend because he knew I disliked being cooped up! But I don’t care what he thinks. He hated me long before then, as you well know.”
Alfreda put an arm around Brooke’s shoulder and hugged her close. “It will be good for you to not see that hateful boy anymore.”
Brooke would have included all of her family in that statement, but didn’t say so. “I may leave within the week. You will come with me? Please say you will!”
“Of course, I will.”
“Then let us spend the day stocking up on your supplies and gathering rooted herbs you can replant. We don’t know if we will be able to find in the north all the herbs you need.”
“Where in the north?”
“I don’t know. They haven’t actually told me any of this yet. I just—”
Alfreda’s laugh cut her off. “Yes, we know how you gather information.”