Also true. She had made a list of all the people who would receive the elusive H. B. Rooke’s macabre manuscript.
‘How come you are prepared to allow two faceless publishers to read the damn thing, yet you refuse to trust me with your work even though you know I love a good Gothic novel and cannot wait to read yours? I thought we were friends, Hope. Friends trust one another.’
‘It is because we are friends that I am reluctant to share it with you.’Phantasmameant so much to her—what if he hated it?
‘Yet I share everything with you unreservedly, Hope, because that is what good friends do. All my trials and tribulations, all my many failures, fears and each of my tiny successes.’
‘You never have any failures, only successes so you have no concept of what failure or rejection feels like.’
He dismissed that with a roll of his eyes. ‘If your ultimate goal is to see your story on the shelves of Hatchard’s where anyone can read it, I fail to understand why you keep putting up pathetic barriers to keep me from doing so.’
He made a good point, an entirely logical and sound one, but her writing was just too personal. So personal, logic didn’t come into it.
‘Because this book is me, Luke. My thoughts. My demons. My essence. Sharing it feels too much like bearing my soul and I...well...am not sure I am ready to bear it to you in its entirety yet. No matter how many times you throw that gauntlet down and dare me to do it.’
‘Asking you to trust me is hardly throwing a gauntlet down.’ He was hurt by her defensiveness. ‘If I have made you feel pressured rather than encouraged, then I am truly sorry for that was never my intention.’
‘You haven’t...’ As her friend, he at least deserved the whole truth. ‘I have never trusted easily and men least of all.’
‘That is a shame.’ His face fell further and she could tell her clumsy words had wounded. Hardly a surprise when she had effectively just lumped him in the same boat as the Ealings and Harlingtons of the world when he shared none of their abhorrent traits. ‘I cannot help being male but despite that unfortunate birth defect, I have always trusted you, Hope. And unreservedly too.’
And heaven help her, she was sorely tempted to trust all of him, and that alone was too momentous to contemplate when the eternal and often justified pessimist in her feared she was bound to be making a mistake.
‘Have I not proved my mettle as a decent and reliable friend to you yet?’
Of course he had and that was part of the problem. Luke never did anything by halves. Whether that be supporting her in a lie in front of her family or saving her from amorous men.
He was too decent. Too reliable. Too thoughtful and way too tempting. He also listened to her, encouraged her and believed in her. Too perfect a man, all things considered, for her guarded, wary heart to believe could possibly be true.
She turned away while she tried to put her unsettling, warring feelings into words, hugging herself unconsciously until she was brave enough to face him again. ‘If you must know, your honest opinion terrifies me.’
She trusted him enough to confess that at least.
His eyes seemed to look into the same soul she was so desperately trying to keep hidden. ‘Why?’
It was the sympathy which undid her and the understanding, lop-sided smile, as if he saw it all anyway but respected her dreams too much to trample all over them.
‘What if I cannot write, Luke? What if all the publishers I approached last time were right and Mr Cooper was merely fobbing me off gently when he said they couldn’t make money printing anything written by a woman? What if I have been fooling myself all these years, working towards nothing and I really don’t have the same level of talent for something as my brilliant parents and sisters do?’
As delighted as she was for Charity for her well-deserved success, the odd one out, cuckoo-in-the-nest middle sister inside of her wished it hadn’t come before hers. Having all the newspapers singing the youngest Brookes’s praises so soon after they had done exactly the same for Faith, had completely shredded the last of Hope’s confidence and left her feeling inadequate and panicked about her future.
‘What if all I really am is this?’ She gestured to her body and the stupid, feminine gown she shouldn’t have worn expressly for him. ‘All show and no real substance. The only Brookes with no real talent for anything beyond attracting shallow men without trying and sending them cross-eyed with lust.’ Why was she suddenly confessing her deepest, darkest fears when she had never once confessed them to anyone before? Not even her sisters knew the confident bravado she wore like a shield hid a seething pit of insecurities which ran the gamut of everything from her fear of being an impostor as a writer to her ingrained self-consciousness about her overly womanly body. ‘What do I do then?’
She expected him to laugh at her foolishness. Instead, he simply sighed as he took her hand and squeezed it, giving her the ridiculous urge to lace her fingers in his and hold on for dear life. ‘Trust me with your book, Hope, and if it is truly a reflection of everything that you are, I have no doubt it is destined to be brilliant.’
‘And if it isn’t and you hate it?’
‘Then as your friend I shall be honest enough to tell you, so that you can fix it. Because if you want it bad enough youwillfix it, Hope. I know this because we are kindred spirits, you and I. Both too stubborn and determined not to succeed no matter what the odds.’
She dithered, wanting to entrust him with her precious manuscript, while fearing the fact that she wanted to. She was used to being self-sufficient. She had never had a mentor to guide her in her dreams in the same way her sisters had with their parents. They encouraged her, of course they did, but not in quite the same way as they did Faith with her art and Charity with her music. She had never had anyone who valued the sublime power of the written word with the same ferocity as she did. That alone deemed him worthy. So why was she still scared?
Perhaps because no matter what, Luke always knew the way and landed on his feet when he arrived while she always stumbled, never quite knowing where she was going. She released her hand from his.
‘You think we are kindred spirits?’ If only they were. ‘I envy you your innate self-confidence and ability to master and then conquer every challenge life throws at you. You glide effortlessly over every hurdle with a big, lopsided grin on your face, knowing exactly what needs to be done and charming everyone to your way of thinking to make it so, completely unhampered by all the insecurities, barriers and disappointments we mere mortals are saddled with.’ How wonderful it must be to be him. ‘You are fearless, Luke, not fearful. Whereas I am all bravado.’
He reached for her hand again and wrapped it in his. ‘Then pick up the gauntlet, Hope, and be fearless. It really is as simple as that.’
Chapter Eleven
