Page 42 of Lady Farah Creates a Scandal (The Season of Secrets #2)

T he following afternoon, the drawing room was full of laughter and chatter as all the ladies attempted to voice their opinion on which gown she should wear for her wedding tomorrow.

She’d had a few glasses of sherry, needing the courage. She was marrying the man of her dreams, except for the fact that she was not the woman of his.

The feminine goings on at least kept Blackstone well away.

He had, however, been gracious enough to welcome Ashley back to his home.

Ashley hadn’t stepped foot in the house since her scandal more than two years ago.

Farah noted Ashley’s head lifted higher and her shoulders squared under his welcome.

It had meant a lot to her friend and for the first time in a while, Farah could have kissed her brother.

The room was a mess. Gowns in various shades of cream and ivory were draped over every available surface.

“You must wear this one,” Tiffany insisted, holding up an empire-waist gown with delicate pearl beading. “The cut is perfect for your figure.”

Valora shook her head emphatically. “No, no—the one with the lace overlay is far more romantic. It’s your wedding day, Farah. You should look like you stepped out of a fairy tale.”

“I still think the silk with the ribbon trim would be lovely,” Claire added, fingering the material thoughtfully. “Simple but elegant.”

Farah sat amid the whirlwind of fabric and opinions, feeling somewhat overwhelmed.

Just yesterday, she’d been hiding at Courtney’s house, determined to avoid marriage altogether.

Now here she was, preparing to wed Rockwell tomorrow morning.

Her heart fluttered at the idea of becoming Lady Farah Ware.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Courtney observed, settling beside her on the settee. “Having second thoughts?”

“No,” Farah replied quickly—perhaps too quickly, given the knowing look Courtney gave her. “It’s just…everything is happening so fast.”

“That tends to happen with special licenses,” Ivy remarked dryly. “Though I must say, my brother seems remarkably eager to get you to the altar.”

The ladies exchanged meaningful glances and knowing smiles that made Farah’s cheeks heat.

“Can you blame him?” Valora asked with a wicked grin. “After that scandalous journey to Ireland together…”

“Nothing scandalous happened!” Farah protested, though her blush deepened at the lie.

“Of course not,” Tiffany agreed, her eyes twinkling. “I’m sure you were the very model of propriety while alone with my devastatingly handsome brother-in-law.”

The other ladies dissolved into giggles, while Farah buried her face in her hands. “You’re all terrible,” she mumbled.

“We’re just happy for you,” Ashley said, giving Farah’s shoulder a squeeze. “Even though he’s my brother, Rockwell is a good man. You’ll be very happy together.”

Lauren nodded in agreement. “And you’ve already proven you can handle his adventurous spirit. Not many ladies would take so well to being accidentally shipped off to Ireland.”

“Speaking of adventures,” Ashley said, rising to her feet, “we should check your wardrobe for any other potential wedding gowns. Lauren, will you help me?”

As the two women headed upstairs, Farah made to follow them, but Valora caught her arm, her eyes bright with wedding fever. All the ladies and their brothers and parents would wish to attend. Several minutes passed as they debated who to seat with whom.

Finally, extracting herself from Valora’s enthusiastic clutches, Farah made her way up the stairs toward her bedchamber. The thick carpet muffled her footsteps as she approached, and she heard voices drifting through the partially open door.

“…had no choice really,” Ashley’s voice carried clearly through the gap. “Wolf was quite adamant about it.”

“Well, of course he was,” Lauren replied. “The family couldn’t risk another scandal, not after…”

“After my disgrace, you mean.” Ashley’s voice held the weight of old pain. “That’s exactly why Wolf insisted Rockwell had to convince her to marry him. He told him in no uncertain terms that the Wolfarth family name couldn’t withstand another ruined reputation.”

Farah’s world tilted sideways, her hand half-raised to push open the door. Ice seemed to spread through her veins as Ashley’s words echoed in her head like a death knell.

“At least Rockwell seems to have done a good job of it,” Lauren continued, oblivious to the fact that her heart was breaking mere feet away.

“She seems happy at the idea of marrying him. And as you say, he is a good man. They will be happy, won’t they?

And I’m not just saying that because I was hoping she’d pick Lucien.

” A pause, then more softly, “He is running out of time to find a rich wife.”

“Well, my brother has always had a silver tongue when he wanted something,” Ashley remarked, each word another dagger in Farah’s heart. “But I saw him send a missive to Lady Mary.”

Lauren sighed. “His mistress?”

“Well, the lady he was seeing prior to going to Ireland the first time. Though I do think he cares for Farah in his way.”

“But not enough to have offered for her if Wolf hadn’t forced his hand?”

“Probably not. You know how he is about his freedom. But he’ll do his duty to protect the family name.”

Farah stumbled backward, the world swimming before her eyes as tears burned hot trails down her cheeks.

Everything—all of Rockwell’s beautiful words, his begging for her to give him a chance to learn to love her, his promises for their future—had been a lie.

A masterful performance by a man who knew exactly how to manipulate her heart.

Oh, she was so stupid. He’d danced around her questions about love like a practiced courtier, never quite lying but never telling the whole truth, either.

She hadn’t even thought to ask him about a mistress. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

She pressed trembling fingers to her mouth to stifle a sob. How could she have been so foolish? Of course, he didn’t truly love her—how could she have believed otherwise? She was nothing more than a duty to be discharged, a problem to be solved.

The thought of their intimate moments in the garden made her stomach turn.

Farah couldn’t go through with it. She couldn’t bind herself for life to a man who saw her as an obligation.

What if he met someone who stirred his heart the way she never could?

The thought of watching him grow to resent her, of living with the knowledge that he’d rather be anywhere else or with someone else…

But what choice did she have? Her reputation hung by a thread.

If she didn’t marry Rockwell, she’d be ruined.

Her brother would be furious if she cried off—might even force her to marry Franklin, bringing her full circle to where this nightmare began.

Running away wasn’t an option either. Not really. Not if she wanted children.

Unless…

Lucien’s proposal floated to the surface of her troubled thoughts like a lifeline.

Lauren was right. He needed her help. He’d proposed marriage in front of the ton .

It would be a neat solution to both their predicaments—her scandal and his need for a wealthy wife.

At the time, she’d refused, believing she had another choice. But now…

Perhaps a marriage without love’s illusions would be kinder than one built on beautiful lies.

At least with Lucien, they both knew exactly where they stood.

It was more bearable than living with the constant hope that Rockwell might one day love her truly.

And Courtney certainly didn’t seem so enamored of her returned-from-the-dead fiancé.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Farah gathered her skirts and quietly made her way down the back stairs.

Each step felt like both an escape and a betrayal, but she had to protect what was left of her heart.

She had to find Lucien before it was too late.

Before she made the biggest mistake of her life by marrying a man who could trample her heart to pieces because he saw her as nothing more than a duty to be fulfilled.

She slipped out of the house while the other ladies were still distracted with wedding preparations.

The afternoon sun seemed to mock her with its cheerfulness as she made her way toward Danvers House, where Lucien was staying with his father.

No one gave her a thought and with her eyes swimming in tears, she’d not recognized anyone, anyway.

Each step felt heavier than the last, her heart pounding in an erratic rhythm. Was she making another rash decision? But surely, any port in a storm was better than drowning in false hopes. Lucien freely chose to do so, and Courtney had essentially given her permission to accept Lucien.

The butler at Danvers House seemed startled by her appearance but showed her into the library where Lucien sat reading to Ava-Marie. The little girl’s face lit up when she saw Farah.

“You found me!” she exclaimed. “Are we playing hide and seek again?”

“Not today, sweetling,” Farah replied, forcing a smile. “I need to speak with your father about something important.”

Lucien studied her face for a long moment before turning to his daughter. “Why don’t you go find Caitria and see if she’ll take you to feed the ducks in the park?”

Once they were alone, he gestured for Farah to sit. “What’s wrong? You look upset.”

“Your offer,” she blurted out. “Is it still open? The one about marriage?”

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Lauren informed me you were marrying Rockwell tomorrow.”

“I can’t,” she whispered, tears threatening again. “I just… I can’t.”

“What happened?”

Haltingly, she explained what she’d overheard. With each word, fresh pain lanced through her heart. “So, you see,” she finished, “he was just doing his duty to protect the family name. I’m not sure he has any feelings for me at all.”

“I’m totally confused. Are you saying you have feelings for me then?

Because you state you want love in a marriage.

I don’t love you. I barely know you, but we could make a fine marriage.

I like you. I am attracted to you and you dote on Ava-Marie.

You know the truth about her lineage, and yet you care about her.

” He shrugged. “Besides, perhaps love can grow.”

Rockwell had said exactly the same thing, but did he mean it? Lucien obviously did.

“I think you should talk to Rockwell before making any rash decisions,” he said.

She scoffed. She didn’t trust herself. If Rockwell spoke more pretty words, would she believe him?

Could she believe him? She shook her head.

“Is it possible for you to get a special license by tomorrow?” Lucien sat silently, contemplating her.

“I have a very large dowry. My brother is a duke and he will be very pleased to see me wed. He won’t care who I marry, as long as I marry. ”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Lucien said something else under his breath.

“Can you imagine marrying a woman who loves you, but you wonder if you’ll ever love her back?

I know you understand because that’s why you haven’t offered for Courtney.

It wouldn’t be fair to her. Well, marrying Rockwell is not fair to me.

Will you help me and let me help your family by giving you my dowry? ”

Slowly, a smile crept over his face and her heart froze as she realized she was about to get what she asked for. “I will meet you at the altar tomorrow morning at your brother’s house.”

A part of her died inside. “How am I going to tell Rockwell?”

Lucien stood suddenly all businesslike. “Leave everything to me. I’ll deal with Rockwell and your brother.

You return home and continue your preparations for tomorrow as if nothing is amiss.

” He drew her into his arms and hugged her.

Nothing lit up in her body at all. She closed her eyes against the pain.

Lucien wasn’t Rockwell and he never would be.

But at least he could never break her heart.

She pushed out of his hold. “Thank you. I hope you’re sure about this.”

“Oh, I’m very sure.”

*

The door had barely closed behind Farah before Lucien called for his coat.

His heart raced with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation—he’d seen that look of devastation in a woman’s eyes before, in Courtney’s, and he’d be damned if he let another couple’s happiness shatter due to a man’s stubborn blindness.

He had to find Rockwell before it was too late, and bloody well knock some sense into the man.

How could someone so clever be such an utter fool when it came to matters of the heart?

Yanking on his coat with more force than necessary, Lucien shook his head at the absurdity of it all. Worse still, Rockwell seemed to have no idea that he was already head over heels in love with Farah.

The way he’d stormed into Blackstone’s study the night he’d offered for her and almost roared at Lucien for even thinking of marrying Farah. That was when he knew Rockwell was a man in denial. He was in love but was fighting it for some reason.

The signs were there for anyone with eyes to see—the way Rockwell’s gaze followed her across every room, how his entire demeanor softened in her presence, the possessive tension in his jaw whenever another man spoke to her. He’d behaved the same with Ava. But he’d been the fool that time.

If Rockwell didn’t sort this mess out, he’d lose the love of his life to his own damned pride and stubborn refusal to recognize what was right in front of him.

The irony wasn’t lost on Lucien—here he was, racing to save another man’s romance when his own lay in shambles. Because one way or another, either Lucien or Rockwell would be at the altar tomorrow morning. He’d already failed one woman he cared for; he would not stand idle and see Farah ruined.

His fingers curled into fists as he strode purposefully toward the door. Time was running out like sand through an hourglass. He just prayed Rockwell loved her enough to do anything to secure her hand in marriage. And more importantly, that the fool would finally realize it before it was too late.

“Have my carriage brought around immediately,” he barked at the footman. Every second counted now—every moment Farah spent believing herself unloved was another crack in the foundation of what could be a magnificent love story. If only Rockwell would get out of his own bloody way.