Page 23 of For the Love of Clover (Breaking the Rules of the Beau Monde #4)

CHAPTER 23

H ugo had fallen asleep in his wife’s bed, with her head on his stomach and his hand in her golden hair which smelled like heaven. He should have anticipated her desire to meet his family. But against all odds, he had taken pleasure in their honeymoon stage, trying to imagine it as something that came before. The thought helped him cage the forced part of their marriage agreement. He wanted to throw away that key for good.

Hope had lasted two and a half weeks, and now the question had been born, threatening to destroy the few gains they had made as a couple. She wanted to talk, so they talked for precisely two minutes before he said no. It was the aftermath which took all night. He was having a hard enough time finding his footing without having to explain his family. It’s not that they weren’t wonderful people because they were. It wasn’t embarrassment precisely, either. It was his father who lived a bit like a hermit away from the house, tinkering with his music boxes and mumbling to himself. How was he to help her understand the mystery of his father when he hadn’t discovered all the truths himself? He had enough on his plate juggling business contacts while trying to figure out what marriage was supposed to be or answer the terrifying question of how he would handle his responsibilities when children came. He’d remained a bachelor so he could pursue a comfortable living without failing his family.

Business risk, he understood. If everything fell apart, he would go home and start again. But now, he had a wife and a future he could not fathom.

It was nearly noon, and Clover still slept. It had been close to dawn by the time their discussion subsided, so Hugo left her slumbering and paid a visit to Rochester’s home in Mayfair. Hugo half hoped to see Rochester’s new wife because Evelyn Rochester was Clover’s dear friend. He needed insight because every day they were married, he realized how little he knew Clover.

“The green salon,” Rochester’s butler said as he directed Hugo through the foyer to a room he had never seen.

He had always conducted business with Rochester in the drawing room. Few rooms had been finished for visitors, so the salon was something new. The butler left him alone while he announced his visit. Hugo had come without notice. But his friendship with Rochester didn’t call for it. They’d been through more than most friends, and their bond was more family than anything.

“Hugo,” Rochester said, his bouncing voice paving the way for good cheer. “What do you think?” Rochester asked about the new room, his arms spread wide. “Puce green.”

“Puce is not green.”

“That’s what Evelyn says. She’s not fond of it, but it’s rather grown on me.”

Hugo gave the room a cursory look. Comfortable furnishings, a settee, two chairs, four side tables, and a small bar with spirits.

“I prefer the drawing room, if you must know. But Evelyn says we need to break in this room. That somehow friends will make my choice of color feel inviting and warm. That and a pianoforte.”

“No doubt it’s warm. You picked this?” Rochester had beautiful taste, but Hugo thought the room would take some time to get used to.

Rochester motioned for him to sit and then poured two drinks. “Brandy? I hope it will do. The whiskey is in the billiard room. Or we could always play a game.” Rochester jerked his head toward the hallway.

Rochester was always up for a game, but Hugo needed to relax with a friend who understood him. “This is perfect.” He raised his glass.

“Why the surprise visit?”

“Home is getting more difficult to recognize these days. Even the mirror looks back at me like a stranger.”

Rochester sat opposite Hugo in one of the facing chairs. “It’s easy to lose oneself after marriage.”

“Not you. Not Winn. You both seem to flourish. I’m floundering. I find myself staying at the club and signing up for fights I’m not interested in.”

“You must be winning because you don’t look worse for wear.”

“It’s been a good place to work out frustration.”

“I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself.”

“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about Clover. She seemed happier than I initially did, but lately, she looks as forlorn as I feel.”

“You didn’t plan this, so give yourself time. She’s a beautiful woman. That ought to make it easier.”

Hugo shot him a dissecting stare, a warning. “That isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?” Rochester sat back, placing his snifter on a doily. Fastidious to a fault.

“I’m not certain. At first, I was angry because no one wishes to be told who to marry or when.”

“I understand better than most, my friend.”

“Then I thought my anger was because of the business. As I told you before, risk is easier when there isn’t a family involved.”

“But what you’re doing has always been for family. Your family. What’s different now?”

“My safety net has always been to move home if everything goes to shite. Now—” He sighed. “Rochester, I don’t want to take her there. I don’t want that to be her life. Or mine. She’s grown up as the daughter of a duke. Balls, the Season, all of it. These are things I’ve hoped to provide my own sisters. What if I fail and cannot provide for anyone at all?”

“That’s not going to happen. You are a genius when it comes to investing and weighing risk. Why do you think we all trust you so much? And by the way, I have part of what I owe you. Maybe that will help.”

Hugo waved it away. “I’m not hurting. There’s no rush. This is bubbling up from fear, not reality.”

“I think it’s more than that, my friend.”

Hugo shrugged, examining the contents of his glass.

“What have the past two weeks been like?” Rochester asked thoughtfully in a steady, calming voice.

“Surprisingly good. We both seem to be making the best of an awkward situation.”

“But not good enough?” Rochester asked the right questions.

Hugo rubbed the back of his neck. “No. I can’t seem to put a finger on my feelings about it.”

“You’ve always been attracted to her.”

Hugo looked up. “Yes. And that’s the thing. Had our friendship continued, perhaps it would have led to courting her, to a connection which springs naturally into something eternal.”

“But you’ll never know. And that’s the crux, isn’t it? You need to know the sure bet, and it’s eating away at your pursuit of perfect truth. No risk, no gain, my friend.”

He snapped his finger. “Exactly. I’ll never know how I truly feel about her. Or how she feels about me.”

“Does it matter?” Rochester sat forward. “Let me tell you something about yourself, Darrington. You weigh everything by risk. You study the facts, the market. You watch people walk in and out of the Bank of England for hours just to see who frequents it the most. You play the odds by instinct and have the most amazing intuition. But this is something different.”

“Yes. It’s a woman.”

“A woman you had not considered because why? Because you haven’t had time, not because you weren’t interested.”

“For a man who is supposed to be good with risk, I was a fool to place that bet against the idiots who tried to defame her.”

“The real question is, why did you do it.”

“I’m afraid I’m not ready to answer that question, except to say no woman deserves that.” Rochester studied Hugo for a quiet moment. “Thursday, we were strolling the park. The weather was chilly, and there weren’t many people out. But there was a man who made the grave error of poking fun at my wife, so I poked my fist into his eye.”

Rochester sat back and chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect less.”

“I wanted to do more, the foul-mouthed heathen. Before I could throw the third punch, Clover was tugging on my sleeve. I was ashamed for possibly embarrassing her. But then she took this man to task. It was a thing to witness, you know. This quiet woman who plays chess with herself stood up against the dunderhead and not only insisted he address her properly as Mrs. Darrington but also expected him to pay me the wager due because I had obviously won her over.”

“And have you? Won her over, I mean?”

“I might have thought so until yesterday. She wants to meet my family. But I don’t want her to. I knew you might understand a bit of that.”

“Somewhat. Except your family has always been good and kind.”

“My relationship with them is complicated and marred by such responsibility that it’s difficult to see anything else. But I am truly not resentful, you know. My father isn’t in a good place.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, hell. He’s never been in a good place as far as I can remember.”

“He’s ill, Hugo. But not like my father, who suffers from something explainable.” Rochester’s father had lived a life of drinking too much and hating too much.

“All well and good, but his injuries are emotional, mental, and what most would deem unstable. Unsuitable for the general public. The backlash for a man is great. My mother lives in fear he’ll be declared a lunatic and taken to an asylum.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware of that. But you are also smart enough to realize the truth.”

He nodded with a sigh. “It doesn’t make it easier. Clover is from a family of consequence who may look upon a mental condition with severe bias. There are those who believe lunacy is hereditary. The fact I don’t believe he’s a lunatic means nothing. With the power of his title alone, the duke could have my father institutionalized. Add to it that his sister is married into the family, and the duke would have more clout.”

“I doubt it. Even the duke doesn’t seem the type to judge.”

“No? He judged me right into a wedding. Worst of all, I could have invited my family, but I purposely sent them notice too late. And Clover doesn’t know that. What will she find if I allow her to go? How will it affect the way she sees me? No one likes a liar.”

“You didn’t lie to her. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen if you allow her to go? That she falls in love with your family? That she finds your father a sweet, eccentric, fascinating man?”

Falls in love. This gave Hugo pause. He felt crushed, like his heart weighed him down because dammit if he didn’t want her to fall in love with him. The notion was ridiculous under the circumstances, and conversely, Hugo didn’t feel the need to reciprocate that love. Today, he might admit it was because he was afraid to care too much. It might silence his instincts into the poor house because he knew the odds were against them.

“I hate to ask, Rochester, but I need a favor.” Hugo sat forward, balancing his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers against his chin.

“Anything in my power.”

“I need your wife.”

“Anything but that.” Rochester laughed despite how it all sounded. “I assume you’re looking for insight.” He sobered but still held his signature smile. Rochester had always been the amiable, easygoing one in the group.

“Clover trusts her. I’m not looking to breach that trust, but perhaps she can help me understand why Clover might choose this moment to visit my family without me.”

“Evelyn’s about somewhere. Give me a moment to find her.” With his hands on the arms of the chair, Rochester pushed himself up in one smooth motion and left the room.

Hugo’s pulse ran, and he tried to temper it by examining the room at large. It was big enough for a pianoforte, and he had little doubt they’d be visiting often, listening to music and lilting voices. He wondered if Clover played an instrument or if she sang. Music soothes the soul. Or so he’d heard. Until now, he’d never needed his soul massaged. He had accepted its inevitable pursuit of fire and brimstone. Fate was truly fickle as well as humorless.

“Mr. Darrington,” Evelyn Rochester said, preceding her husband into the room with her hand outstretched. Hugo took it, bowing over it, eager to launch into his agenda.

“It’s a pleasure, as always, Mrs. Rochester,” Hugo said, standing, politely waiting for the woman of the house to signal they should sit again.

Rochester took the same chair as before and his wife the settee.

Hugo brushed his palms down his jacket as he sat on the edge of the seat cushion. “I was hoping you might lend me a hand with Mrs. Darrington.”

“I assume you mean Clover and not your mother.”

Hugo gave a half smile. “Assuredly.” He took a deep breath. “Has she shared with you her feelings about the wedding? More importantly, about my family’s absence?”

“Mr. Darrington, my relationship with Clover is bound by trust. Do you expect me to break it?”

He put up his hand. “I understand that. I’m not asking for you to share a secret.”

“Then why ask me at all? Why not ask Clover if she missed your family being there?”

Hugo didn’t need much more than that to form an assumption. The way Mrs. Rochester said the words pointed to conversations involving his family and their lack of attendance at the wedding. He scratched his head, avoiding Mrs. Rochester’s eyes. “You needn’t say anything more.”

“But I will.” Evelyn Rochester had been the author of the Breaking the Rules game. Her outspokenness was part of her. “Has she asked to visit them? Your family, I mean.”

“Precisely,” he said with relief.

Before he could expound, she continued, “We’ve spoken in length about visiting our families. Your family estate isn’t more than a few hours’ drive from my father’s. May I suggest you allow her to go with me? I’d like to see Papa before Christmas, and now is the perfect time. We can take our coach,” she said, turning to Rochester.

Rochester didn’t say a thing. He just raised his brows at Hugo.

“That’s more than generous. I’ll think on it.”

“Don’t take too long, Darrington.” She left off the mister because before they’d all been married, they had enjoyed a convivial friendship. Doing so now made the atmosphere feel more intimate, giving her words additional weight.

“Do you think she’d like that?”

“No. I think she’d love it.” She turned back to Rochester. “Dalton, you can send with us as many outriders as you wish. We won’t need a companion or chaperone because we have one another.” She turned back to Hugo. “And we’ll have hours and hours to talk.” Her gaze softened on Hugo, and her genuine smile was a plea for his approval.

“I agree,” Hugo heard himself say. When he arrived, the idea had been so foreign to him that he hardly believed he was agreeing to it now. “But take our coach. It’s new. A gift from the duke, and I’m sure Clover would enjoy sharing it with you.”

Hugo left the Rochesters without a solid plan, but he had worked through the bumps by the time he reached his townhouse. He wanted to see her excited and happy again like she had been when he sprung the visit to the boxing club on her. That night had culminated in a passionate exchange. He didn’t hope for that now. But he did anticipate her smile.

Hugo passed off his coat to Mr. Langley. “Where is Mrs. Darrington?”

“I believe she’s in the drawing room, sir.”

Darrington slowed his steps. He paused outside the door and then turned the knob. Clover looked up from the window seat when he crossed into the room. She gave him a cordial smile. Her hands were busy with a ball of yarn and needles. He didn’t even know she knitted.

“You’re knitting,” he said, pointing to her project. “Booties, perhaps?” He was teasing, but his stomach flipped into his throat when she nodded. “You… Are you?”

She scrunched her forehead, then opened her eyes wide and put aside the needles. “Not me.” She chuckled, putting him at ease. “Oh, Hugo, I’m sorry. I am making these for little Chase Markham.”

He held a hand to his chest and felt the need to sit. “You gave me a start.”

“I hope a good one. There’s no telling when a babe will come unless, of course, I take Evelyn’s advice.”

Perfect opening. He let the remark about children pass. “Speaking of the Rochesters, I’ve just come from there, and I had an interesting discussion with your friend.”

“Evelyn? What about?”

“You.”

“Hugo Darrington. You discussed me with my dear friend? Are you spying or prying?”

“No, no, no.” He pointed to the knitting, and she gathered the light-blue wool and placed the lot in a basket at her feet. He swept his hand over the green paisley cushion and then sat next to her, their knees touching. The little alcove was a cozy fit, and he was suddenly bursting to tell her. “I was discussing your trip to Dovetail Manor.” When she didn’t respond, he splayed his hand on his chest and leaned in. “My family home.”

She sat back as far as she could. Her eyes pleaded with him as if she didn’t believe it. “You’re taking me to meet your family? But I thought you couldn’t leave.”

“Not me. Evelyn Rochester suggested you travel together. She’s in need of a visit with her father, and their estate is no more than two hours from my family. You can take our coach and show off the pink interior, and I’ll send outriders and Mr. Gale. You can take your maid with you or not. You and Mrs. Rochester are both married women, so a companion isn’t needed.” He waited for her reaction, but none came. That worried him. “I was hoping you’d be happy. You don’t have to go.”

She blew out a hard breath, and her gaze slowly reached his. “You’re trusting me to travel alone? To meet your family without you?”

“Clover, I can’t get away. If you’d like to wait for me, it will be after the winter thaw. I’m happy to do that, though. This is your decision.”

“Oh, I’m going.” The smile he’d been waiting for burst across her cheeks, a ray of sunshine in a home where shadows had formed. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“It’s not a matter of trust, darling. It’s a matter of fear.”

She put a hand to his arm. Through his sleeve, through his anxiety, that one action penetrated his heart, and he knew he had made the right decision.

“You’ve nothing to fear.” A chuckle bloomed into a smile. “I’m delighted to meet your family. I cannot wait to share our family with them.” She waved a hand between them.

He’d never thought of it that way—they were a family, the two of them. He almost wished she was with child. In that moment, he enjoyed a freedom like he’d never known. There were no investors, no business deals, no odds to consider. It was her smile. And he had his answer to Rochester’s question. Why did he do it? He did it for the love of Clover. He allowed the joy to penetrate his heart and almost wished he was going with her.

Almost.