“Annabelle,” Chloe huffed.
Which was fortunate because it covered the foul word he’d uttered at the same moment. Cursing would not help his reputation a bit.
“It’s true.” Annabelle notched up her chin. “And Chloe informed the entire assembly that you were in fact the one defending her.”
“Damnation,” he muttered again, only the ladies heard him this time. “Apologies.” He turned back to Chloe. “Please do not endanger yourself on my account.”
She looked at him, her brown eyes squinting just a touch at the corners. The look was full of caring and intimacy and his chest ached with the tenderness he saw in her gaze. “You did the same for me.” And then she reached up and gently touched the corner of his eye where it was black and blue.
“I was not in danger. Men get scraped up all the time. You are. Please don’t do it again as I was trying to help you, not cause more trouble.”
Annabelle cleared her throat. “The more pressing question is why you have suddenly found your voice. I’ve been trying to ascertain why you lost it to begin with, not that you’ve cooperated. But, if I may be so bold, Lord Dryden seems to be the common denominator in you finding it. Why?”
She trembled, he felt the shiver slide down her body into his. “I don’t know.” She swallowed, as she dropped her hands and clasped them together. Lady Annabelle had posed a very interesting question indeed and the need to know the answer thrummed down his limbs causing his muscles to tighten.
Annabelle made a tiny sound of disapproval. “Chloe. It’s time to figure this out. You’re so close to answers and—”
“My lord, I found the carriage,” his footmen called from just outside. “It’s pulling up now.”
“I’m not sure I want to probe into the why, Annabelle.” Chloe’s voice was just above a whisper, the rain might have drowned it out if everyone hadn’t been listening for her answer.
“It’s better for you in the long run if you do.” Annabelle looked at him. The woman made him nervous. She looked near angelic with her fine blonde hair, but it hid a razor-sharp mind that would make any man with sense run scared. “Lord Dryden. Would you mind helping Chloe one last time? We’ve both been invited to a dinner party at the Liverstones. Would you attend? I’m sure you could procure an invitation.”
He grimaced. He hated these sorts of events. He’d only been at the party last night to try to soften his image at Reeves’s request. His evening hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. “I don’t always do well at these sorts of affairs.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Annabelle said, smiling brightly.
Fin pressed his lips together. He shouldn’t go. Chloe was a tempting little treat that was getting harder and harder to resist. But he’d made her a promise last night and it seemed as though she still needed his help. “Fine. I’ll attend.”
Chapter Seven
Chloe climbed out of Caroline’s carriage just in time to see Lady Mayfair descend the steps of their London townhome. She held her spine straight, refusing to curl into herself as the woman’s hard stare met hers.
The other woman didn’t say a word, just gave a quick nod as she climbed into her own conveyance and disappeared from view. Chloe watched the carriage until it was gone and Caroline snapped back open the door. “Chloe, go inside. You’re getting soaked.”
She was. Though she held up an umbrella, the bottom of her dress wicked up rain, and she’d be frozen in no time. Which might very well be a better fate than facing her aunt.
Heading down the alley, she made her way into the kitchen. For a moment, she was tempted to do what she had done so many times before and attempt to slink off to her room. As if her aunt’s anger would cool with time. It wouldn’t. She’d learned that over the six years they’d lived together.
So instead, she went straight to the sitting room her aunt preferred for her afternoon repast. As she walked, she unbuttoned her gloves, peeling them down her arms. The rough skin underneath itched a little, but the itch would be gone soon enough, replaced with burning pain.
Just outside the door, she stopped and drew in a steadying breath. She’d learned it best to hold her tongue, always hold her tongue with her aunt, and never cry out. But she wouldn’t cower today…this time…any more.
Knocking on the door, her aunt replied. “Who is it?”
Chloe heard the irritation in the woman’s voice. “It’s me.”
“Come in here at once.”
She opened the door to see her aunt already standing by the fire, the dreaded riding crop in her hand. “How could you, Chloe? After everything I’ve tried to teach you, how could you allow yourself to speak out like that in such a public place? A lady does not draw attention to herself.” Her aunt smacked her own hand with the crop. “You’re still your mother’s daughter. No manners, that one.”
Chloe didn’t remember her mother that way. On the contrary, her mother had been full of love and laughter. She’d built Chloe a home, not a prison like the one she lived in now. But she didn’t say these words out loud. They’d only enrage Aunt Mildred further. Trembling as she was, she stood silently and held out her arms, palms up.
The first crack came down and her eyes involuntarily filled with stinging tears. She didn’t shed them. The key was not to make a sound, not to show the tiniest bit of emotion. It would be over quicker that way. And it’s what her aunt wanted. To beat all the emotion out of Chloe.
Nine more cracks came down on her arms, each more painful than the last but she held her tongue, allowed her mind to drift far away as she stared at a spot on the wall.
“You will learn to be a proper lady if it’s the death of me.” Aunt Mildred breathed in short, ragged gasps.
Chloe made no response. Inside a scream built in her chest, climbing up her throat but she forced it back down. She wouldn’t ruin her chance of escaping the room without more marks now.
“Go,” her aunt whispered. “Get out of my sight.”
Turning, she made her way back down to the kitchen. Cook was well adept at creating a salve to sooth the wounds. She’d done it many times before. Welts were already rising on her skin, little blood trails in their center. These would take weeks to fully heal. And they’d leave more scars.
A few years ago, it had occurred to her that she might be strong enough to simply take the crop from Aunt Mildred’s hand and return the favor. But then what would happen? Would she join Penny and live with Caroline? Be a spinster forever?
The idea had merit. She’d been afraid of that future before, but she wasn’t anymore. They could all be ruined together, living the life they chose. Between Caroline’s inheritance and hers, they’d be comfortable. Maybe without husbands and children, but safe and they’d have each other.
Fin’s image came to the front of her thoughts. She’d be letting him go too, not that they had anything. Well, perhaps they had something? He’d fought one battle for her.
But he hadn’t attempted an actual courting. He hadn’t sat to talk during her calling hours or invited her on a carriage ride. There was no offer of a picnic, not that the December weather allowed for such an activity. Her mouth twisted and her shoulders hunched.
She’d like to ask him about his intentions. But a proper lady did not say such things. Hadn’t her aunt taught her that? A shiver of fear trickled down her spine. Her aunt’s lessons had been effective. A humorless smile twisted her lips.
She walked into the kitchen, dropping her arms so that the entire staff didn’t see her wounds. Cook looked up from her pot, her lips turning down. “Everyone out,” she said as she pushed the soup back from the hot stove.
The staff obeyed without question as the other woman clucked her tongue. “I thought maybe we’d gotten past this.”
“Me too,” Chloe responded looking down at her mangled skin. “Me too.”
“Find a husband,” Cook whispered. “Any man who isn’t cruel will do. Leave this place.”
Chloe gave a dull nod. “You’re right on that
second bit. It’s time that I moved on.” Her aunt would be so disappointed. All this prepping and she’d not get her part of the inheritance after all.
* * *
Fin stood on the edge of the dance floor scanning the crowd for Chloe. He shook his head, unable to believe he was actually here.
One thing had worked in his favor. The current round of rumors about him managed to frighten off even Lady Angela, who currently followed around some other unfortunate man.
He tugged at his cravat, doing another search with his gaze and then he realized his mistake. He should be checking next to all the potted ferns.
He found Chloe next to the third plant. No statue this time, but she and Annabelle had tucked chairs just under the leaves of the massive green branches, their heads bent as they whispered.
“Good evening, ladies.” He gave a stiff bow as he devoured Chloe with his eyes. Her dress came off her shoulders, revealing a good bit of cleavage, which was highlighted by her upswept hair. A few strands managed to escape and float about her lovely face and skim the delicate column of her neck.
He closed his eyes for just a brief second. He couldn’t allow himself this luxury. Next thing he knew, he’d pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
Chloe stood, clasping her hands in front of her as she held her arms away from her body. There was something odd in the way she held them, and he drew his brow together, trying to discern why.
“Good evening,” she said as she took a half step closer. “Thank you for coming.”
“Why did I come?” He turned to Annabelle. “And I am asking for specifics here.”
“It’s clear that your presence allows Chloe to feel safe enough to talk in front of others. A first for her in nearly five years.”
His gut clenched. Five years? “How long have you lived with your aunt?”
“Nearly six years,” she said nibbling her lip.
“Interesting.” Annabelle had risen too, and she touched Chloe’s shoulder. “It wasn’t directly after your mother’s death that you stopped speaking? Sometimes loss can trigger these sort of reactions.”
Chloe looked down at her hands. “I suppose not.”
“So I am here so that she might speak?” He asked drawing closer. He tried to hold still but somehow his feet shuffled forward. She looked as though she hurt and this part of him wanted to soothe her, make her suffering go away. It was the same feeling he’d had behind the statue.
“I want to test just how much of an influence you have. Will she speak knowing you’re across the room? Will she only talk if you’re nearby? Ideally, we’d do this several times and see if your presence doesn’t desensitize her to the point where she could speak in front of anyone at any time.”
Chloe shook her head. “I know you’ve both come out to help me, but honestly, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to speak in front of anyone but the two of you tonight.” She wrung her hands together.
Annabelle squeezed her arm. “Oh but we’re here and you’re making progress. We could cure you of your shyness and open up your whole future.”
Chloe held up her hand. “Annabelle, please. If I’d known this is what you were planning.” Her voice held the tiniest quaver as though she were frightened. “We already have a plan and it’s a good one. Why try to change me now? I’m hopeless.”
“You must have known. I practically spelled it out in the carriage yesterday. You didn’t seem upset at all.” Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “What has changed?” Then she turned to him. “Did the two of you have an interaction I don’t know about?”
Bloody hell, now he was getting blamed for Chloe’s retreat? And what did she mean by they already had a plan? “Of course not. I haven’t seen her since yesterday.” He looked back at Chloe. “Chloe,” he rumbled low so as not to be overheard. “What’s wrong?”
She gave her head a tight shake. “Nothing,” Her hands up, she took a step back. “I don’t want to do this, that’s all.”
Annabelle reached for her arm. “Please tell me what’s changed.”
But as Annabelle’s fingers closed on her glove, Chloe winced as though she were in pain and then ripped her arm from Annabelle’s grasp.
Fin narrowed his gaze. Annabelle was right. Something had changed. The woman who usually glowed with warmth was shriveled in fear. He looked down at the spot where Annabelle had held Chloe’s glove. Surprise stopped his breath as his eyes widened. Blood seeped through the white silk.
“What the bloody hell?” He closed the gap between them and took her fingers in his hand, lifting her arm. He couldn’t peel the glove off, not here, but he heard Annabelle gasp. “I fancy a turn around the garden. Why don’t you ladies join me?”
He didn’t wait for a response as he began guiding Chloe toward the open door. He needed answers, especially if someone was hurting her and he didn’t intend to take no for answer.
Chapter Eight
Chloe tried to catch her breath as dull pain throbbed in her arm, mixing with her severe annoyance. Chloe would like to be a man at this moment, one who could curse like a sailor. She’d gone and done it this time. She’d inadvertently let them in on her secret. The one she’d meant never to share.
Everyone had secrets. Caroline had never revealed the rake who’d ruined her, though Chloe was now certain it had been Lord Parks. Annabelle had never confessed why she hated society so much. She hadn’t attended a dinner like this for some time. Annabelle must be furious that she’d come here tonight and now Chloe didn’t want to cooperate. Chloe understood her frustration. After all, her friend had come to help.
But Chloe didn’t need the answers that Annabelle sought. She knew why she’d gone silent. Always had. She simply couldn’t tell them without revealing what her aunt had been doing to her for the last six years.
“Please stop,” she begged Dryden. “I don’t want to share this with you.” Part of her did. She might initially feel better but honestly, she was ashamed that she’d allowed this to happen for so long. Just like Lord Parks, society’s dictates had put her in a position of weakness but she had choices. She could have chosen ruination over humiliation.
He didn’t stop, instead, he picked up speed, Annabelle having a tough time keeping up with them in the crowd. “I’ll say what I said the other night. You’ll feel better if you tell me.”
“Not this time.” She tried to pull her hand from his. “Some things are best left untouched.” But her resistance was weakening. He was so strong, and she’d been keeping her aunt’s abuse to herself for so long.
He made it through the terrace doors and started for a dark path.
“Fin,” she hissed. “We could be seen. You’ll ruin me.” But she allowed him to keep moving her. Maybe it was time.
He shrugged. “Then the deed will be done.”
What did that mean? Her ruining? Had he read her thoughts? “What will be done?”
He managed to get her out of the circle of light, then he worked the buttons of her glove. His hands were strong, warm, and sure, and she found herself holding still to allow him to peel them off. The cool air would feel good against her damaged skin and she was tired. She hated to admit it, but he was right. She didn’t want to hold her secret in anymore.
Ever so gently, he peeled the glove from her hand. “Bloody fucking Christ,” he muttered, inspecting her skin.
“I’d like to swear like that,” she said. “I bet it feels wicked and delicious to let out your feelings in such a colorful way.”
He held her arm in his large hand, the touch light. “Do it.”
“Do what?” Her chin jerked back as she looked up at him. “Curse?”
“Yes. Curse.”
She gave her head a silent shake. The rules were carved in the skin of her arm. There was no cursing.
“I’ll start. You repeat. Bloody bullocks,” he whispered.
She couldn’t. She shouldn’t. But as cool air touched her skin, it filled her with a refreshing determination. “Bloody bullocks,�
�� she whispered.
“Hellfire and damnation,” he said as he reached for her other arm and began to unbutton that glove too.
“Hellfire and damnation.” This time the words came out a bit louder, reverberating through her chest.
“Horse’s arse,” he said removing the glove from her hand.
“Horse’s arse.” Chloe smiled as that one filled her mouth and she straightened her back. These words felt as good as she’d always imagined they would. “This is fun.”
“Good.” Fin pulled her closer. “Tell me why your aunt has scarred your arms beyond repair. Don’t leave anything out, though I’ve guessed most of it already.”
She wanted to shrivel but she didn’t. “My mother was a free spirit, I guess, which my father loved, but his sister, my aunt Mildred, hated. She’s been trying to cure me of the disease ever since I came to live with her.”
“And to make it easier on yourself, you stopped talking.” He wrapped his arms about her waist, pulling her against his chest.
“I suppose, yes.” She rested her cheek on his beating heart, the steady thump making her words flow more easily. “And it’s the only retribution I’ve had against her. I’m not actually breaking any rules of decorum so she can’t punish me for it.” She shook her head. “But I’ve paid for my defiance in the end. My silence became a habit I couldn’t break, and it kept me from making a match. The very thing that would allow me to leave her house.”
“You’re not going back home with her tonight.” His fingers snaked up into her hair, gently massaging her scalp while his palm cupped the base of her head. She relaxed her weight into him.
“Where would I go?” She’d like to just stay right here in his arms forever. Her hands had come to his chest and at some point, she’d started running her fingers over his muscles underneath.
His heartbeat quickened under her cheek. Her own organ rose to meet his. “I’d like to take you home with me, but I don’t think that would be a wise decision.”
The Wicked Wallflowers Page 4
