“I think she could be.” He sighed.
“Then what is stopping you from committing?”
He sat in silence for a moment, his thoughts all jumbled. “I think Father prepared me to be the spare by instilling in me the excitement of travel. He knew what it would be like for me. What was my purpose? What could I do with my life? I fixated on it after he died and thought that was all I could do with my life.”
“I sense you might be rethinking that…”
“My trip with Farah has made me question what I want out of my life. I loved being with her. I loved her company, and she is so…desirable. Armley has approached me with an idea to set up a Merino breeding farm to supply their mill and I’ve also been thinking about crossbreeding with our native sheep. What wonderful things we could develop, maybe even become world leaders? Could we lead the textile revolution? I now realize travel is not all ‘the spare’ can do.”
Wolf smiled. “I’m sure Father didn’t think that’s all you could do. He merely loved talking about the world and all the wonders that it held. He wouldn’t have expected you to spend all your life traveling. Father, of all people, understood the joy of building a family and having children.”
“I believe you could be right. Now I only have to convince Farah to marry me and all will be well.”
Wolf frowned and twirled his brandy in the glass. “I thought she was in love with you?”
“I think she is, but she doesn’t believe I’m in love with her.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t know. I know I don’t want any other man touching her, looking at her, or bloody marrying her. But I fell in love once before.” He waved his brother to silence. “It ended badly. But I don’t feel the same with Farah. It’s different.”
“I suspect it’s because you’ve known her all your life and she’s our sisters’ friend. Your relationship is bound to differ from that of a woman you’ve never had in your life before. I would suspect your relationship with Farah would be deeper because you are not strangers. Do you want children?”
Did he? He thought about his relationship with his father. He’d like a son to teach and nurture. He could picture a blond boy who looked exactly like Farah. If he had a daughter, he would treat her better than Blackstone treated Farah. He’d ensure she was fully aware of the dangers in this world.
“I believe I do.”
“Can you imagine having children with anyone other than Farah?” Wolf’s questions pierced through his carefully constructed defenses.
Rockwell closed his eyes, memories washing over him like waves: Farah’s sleepy smile in the morning light, her cold feet seeking his warmth at night, her brilliant mind challenging his own, her laugh that could brighten the darkest day. She knew his world as he knew hers. His heart swelled with the realization that had been growing all along—she wasn’t just in his life, she was essential to it.
“No,” he whispered, the truth finally breaking free. “But is that love?”
“I agree this is all very sudden,” Wolf added. “However, whether you love her matters little because you have to marry her. You can’t taint the whole family with this scandal and walk away. Ashley is already under a cloud. If you disgrace the Wolfarth name, Ivy will have very few chances of a goodmarriage. And I can’t see Blackstone letting Farah remain unwed.”
He took a long swallow of the fiery liquid. “It’s funny. I don’t feel at all upset that I must marry Farah.”
“That speaks volumes. She’s a beautiful woman and you’ll have a good life with her by your side. Ivy and Ashley will be very pleased to welcome her into the family, as will my wife.”
“Then best I work out a way to ensure Farah agrees to marry me. Blackstone will help because he’s determined she marries someone and that will only be me.”
“That’s easy, brother. Simply give her your heart. You know you want to.”
*
The predawn darknesswrapped around Farah like a conspirator’s cloak as she slipped out of the servants’ entrance. Trying to get into the Marquess of Lorne’s townhouse to reach Courtney without being seen was much harder. If one of Courtney’s brothers or her father caught her, her desperate bid for freedom would crumble like a house of cards.
When she’d roused herself from her fainting episode and realized her brother would make her marry either Lucien or Rockwell, she’d done the only thing a lady could do. She’d run. And who better to aid her escape than Courtney? The woman who understood better than anyone how love could turn to ashes in your mouth.
She’d found a pair of trousers and a boy’s outfit in Blackstone’s old wardrobe, relics of his own youth that now served as her armor against society’s demands. The rough wool scratched against her skin, so different from her usual silks, but it was a small price for freedom. The masculine attire made scaling the tree outside Courtney’s window possible, though herarms trembled with each reach upward, as she was unused to such exertion.
She pulled herself onto the window ledge and pushed up the sash window. Thankfully, it opened easily, and she tumbled into the room landing in an ungainly heap of borrowed clothes. She put her arms up and cried out, “Don’t hit me. It’s me, Farah.”
“I should hit you over the head with this lamp anyway. Friend indeed. You stood there and let Lucien announce your engagement when it should have been Lord Rockwell.”
Farah scrambled to her feet, her borrowed boots scuffing against the fine carpet. “Yes, well. It should be Rockwell, but I’d prefer it to be neither gentleman. That’s why I’m here. I need your help.”
Chapter Twenty-One
