“Well, you might want to.”
“Call him a wolf?”
“No, poison him.”
Brooke gasped. “Bite your tongue, I would never.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would. I will if necessary. I won’t have you suffer at his hand, if he has a heavy one.”
Despite the subject, Brooke was comforted to know how far Alfreda would go to protect her from the stranger who was to become her husband.
Chapter Five
HAVING JOINED THE ANCIENTGreat North Road that led all the way to Scotland, the Whitworth coach was making much better time the second day. Although the road was bumpy, Alfreda’s pet cat, Raston, didn’t seem to mind and purred on the seat between them. Raston had never been allowed in the house. He’d lived in the rafters of the Whitworth stable. Oddly, the horses had never been bothered by his presence. Alfreda had brought him food. The stableboys had given him more. Now Raston was fat and heavy to hold due to all those meals.
“Your father told the damned driver to make haste,” Alfreda grumbled when she was jostled on the seat for the third time that morning. “But this is too much. I don’t think Lord Whitworth wanted you to arrive in Yorkbeforethe Prince Regent’s emissary did. I will warn our driver to slow down when we stop for lunch today. They can go as fast as they like on the return trip.”
Brooke grinned. “But this is fun. I really don’t mind a bouncy ride.”
“You will tonight when you feel the aches from it. But I’m glad to see you smiling. You know you can be yourself now, laugh when you want, cry when you please, even lose your temper from time to time if you feel like it. Away from that house that choked the life out of you, you no longer need to keep your inner self contained, poppet.”
Brooke raised a black brow. “You’re suggesting I let this Prince-picked groom see who I really am?”
“You could. Why pretend with him?”
Brooke laughed. “I’m not really sure who I am anymore.”
“Of course you are. You are yourself with me and always have been.”
“But only with you, and only because you were the only one in that house who actually loved me.”
“Your mother—”
“Don’t defend her to me. She spoke to me only when she had to, or when my father and Robert were away and she was in one of her chattering moods. And even then she only wanted me to sit there and listen, not participate in a real conversation.”
Many times Alfreda had tried to convince Brooke that Harriet loved her. At times Brooke had thought it might be true. Occasionally, her mother would smile at her when no one else was around or stand in the doorway of the study watching her during a lesson with her tutor. Once, when Brooke cut her arm, Harriet brushed Alfreda aside to tend it herself. She’d even given Brooke Rebel, her most prized possession, for her thirteenth birthday. Yes, a few times Harriet had acted like a mother toward her, but Brooke knew what love felt like and what it looked like. She saw it every time Alfreda looked at her. She never saw it in her real mother’s eyes. Yet she knew Harriet was capable of love because she displayed it in abundance for Robert.
“She could be like two different people, Freda. Most of the time, cold and indifferent, and on rare occasions, caring and interested. Sometimes I thought... but if I’d been myself with her, I would have been caught in the crosshairs when she reverted to being as cold as my father. The hurt she caused me would have been so much worse if I’d allowed myself to hope it could be otherwise. But you—I wished so many times that you, not Harriet, were my mother.”
“Not as many times as I wished you were my daughter. But you are the daughter of my heart, never doubt that.” Then Alfreda cleared the emotion out of her throat and added more formally, “We know why you hid yourself from that unnatural family of yours. It was the only way to save yourself pain and abuse. Let us both hope those days are gone for good.”
“What d’you think will happen if Dominic Wolfe doesn’t like me and sends me back home?” Brooke wondered aloud.
“Nothing other than you will likely get that Season in London that you were promised, and soon after, some other husband. But there would have to be something very wrong with Lord Wolfe for him not to like you, poppet.”
“But he hates Robert and will hate me because of it.”
“Then he would be a fool.”
“He could be that anyway.” Brooke sighed a little forlornly. “I knew I would marry eventually, but I expected a courtship.”
“As well you should have.”
“To at least know my husband well before we reached the altar.”
“We have passed beyond ‘usual’ circumstances here. You could ask for a brief courtship, though. If your wolf is a good man, he might agree.”
“Or he could be as afraid of the royals as my family and drag me straight to the altar instead.”
