Intentions of the Earl (Scandalous Sisters, Book 1)

by Rose Gordon

  Andrew came back to reality for a split second to step backward as a footman walked past him with one of those revolting paintings. Briefly, he listened in on the conversation between Mrs. Banks and Miss Liberty. They were still discussing what was and wasn’t acceptable for a gentleman, even a lord.

  Andrew shifted his thoughts back to his assessment of the three young ladies. This time he was thinking about Brooke. Wait, when had he started referring to her in his mind as Brooke? He was slightly surprised to think he had never thought about her as Miss Banks. From the moment he heard her name, she’d become Brooke in his mind.

  He gazed over to where she was. She and her middle sister had taken seats on the red settee. Brooke was looking heavenward, praying for divine intervention if he had to hazard a guess.

  Brooke was actually a very attractive young woman when she didn't have that hurt look on her face. She sat there completely relaxed, oblivious that he was staring at her. He took her in. She was thin, but not like a fence post. Her skin was tanned, probably because she was from America. He’d heard people over there didn’t put much stock in being pale. Her hair was dark brown and arranged with plump curls spilling over the top of her head; his hands itched to touch her silky strands. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly. They were just as dark, if not darker. He had never seen such large, dark, expressive eyes. He was sure if he were able to look straight into them, he’d see every secret she possessed.

  He scanned the rest of her face, his eyes landing on her small, straight nose, the complete opposite of his. Her mouth was a beautiful bow shape. Her pink lips were slightly parted, giving him an excellent view of her pretty white teeth lined up all in a row. In no way did she resemble a horse, like a good majority of the Englishwomen he knew. She was perfect.

  Brooke must have had heard enough of this ridiculous conversation because she suddenly leapt from her seat. “Enough!” she all but shouted. When Liberty and Mrs. Banks faced her, she drew herself up as tall as her dainty frame would allow and said, “You two are acting like stubborn children. Just let the poor man stay. He apparently has a desire to be here—I cannot fathom why, but he does—so stop arguing, ring for tea, and let everyone enjoy the afternoon.”

  “You are correct, Brooke. I cannot believe we have acted so poorly in the company of a gentleman. Please forgive us, my lord,” Mrs. Banks said, blushing in shame.

  With a waving hand gesture, Andrew indicated he had no problem viewing the family quarrel. However, he was glad it was over. That was ten minutes of his life he’d never get back.

  He waited for Mrs. Banks and Miss Liberty to take their seats before he looked around the room for a vacant one. Locating an ugly, orange armchair in the corner of the room, he strode over and moved it so he could sit by the ladies perched on their settees.

  After he was seated, he gave Brooke a quick smile and a nod of approval, as if to falsely tell her he liked her choice of chair for the room.

  Brooke’s lips twitched at his affirmative nod and she picked up the teapot that had somehow appeared in the room. “How do you take your tea, my lord?”

  “How do you take your tea?” Andrew countered. He wasn’t picky whether he had milk or sugar in his tea. Today he’d drink what she preferred.

  “With honey,” Brooke answered matter-of-factly with a sweet, shy smile.

  “Honey?” He tried to keep disgust from creeping into his tone. “You mean the sticky substance that comes from a beehive?” he asked to be certain they were talking about the same thing.

  “No, I mean a man whom I just happen to call by that term of endearment,” she quipped.

  “Brooke,” Mrs. Banks said sharply, giving her a disapproving look. “Stop that. It’s not appropriate to bait him so.”

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Banks. I was just dumbfounded that someone would put honey in their tea.” Andrew tried to suppress a little shudder that threatened to wrack his body. Why would anyone taint their tea with honey? “I have never thought to do that before. Must be an American thing,” he muttered.

  Brooke appeared to be trying not to laugh. He shook his head. She could make jests at his expense all she wanted if this was the result. She looked positively fetching as she was just now. He tried hard to keep his lips from curving up in the slightest hint of a smile and turned the conversation to the girl’s homeland of New York, finding himself truly fascinated at their stories.

  Absorbed in inane chitchat, it wasn’t until Andrew reached into his pocket and removed his pocket watch that anyone seemed to notice how much time had passed. After a quick glance at the time he said, “Ladies, this has been the most excellent afternoon I’ve had in a long time, but I need to be off. I would like to call again tomorrow. Mayhap I could take Miss Banks on a ride in Hyde Park?” he asked, giving a pointed look at Brooke in case there was any confusion about which Miss Banks he meant.

  “That would be splendid,” agreed Mrs. Banks. “I can see you have taken special interest in Brooke. She is lovely. It would be delightful if you would take her for ride in the park. She would adore it!”

  Brooke shook her head, presumably at the obvious attempt at matchmaking going on in the room. “That would be lovely. I look forward to it,” she said with a smile.

  Rising up to say farewell, Andrew cocked his head in interest at Brooke. She looked like she was about to burst. Andrew raked his gaze over her and made a mental note of how fetching she was when she was on the verge of laughter. He would have to get her to laugh again. Soon, he vowed to himself.

  As Andrew climbed into his carriage, he couldn’t stop the small smile curving his lips. As much as he hated what Gateway had tricked him into agreeing to do, he could take satisfaction that Brooke was beautiful. She also appeared to have an agreeable personality. Best yet, this afternoon he gathered she enjoyed flouting the rules of society, which would certainly make his goal much easier. This could actually turn out to be a rather enjoyable courtship.

  Andrew eased back against the threadbare squabs and stretched out his legs, looking over to the opposite seat at a piece of vellum. Hoping it was from Gateway, asking him not to go through with this ridiculous plan so he could court Brooke in earnest, he quickly snatched up the paper.

  Townson,

  I have given much thought to your kind words. I hope they were true and sincere. I fear if they were not, I shall perish from embarrassment. However, I am an excellent judge of character, and I believe every word you said! Thus, I reached my decision. It may seem rash, but first instincts are usually right, so I have followed them and have decided to give you a gift. This is a gift from my very soul, so I beg of you not to take it lightly nor dismiss it. Enjoy!

  Andrew tossed down the unsigned note, his face contorting with confusion. Who would have given him such a note, and what gift?

  Shaking his head, Andrew dismissed the thought.

  When he arrived at home, Addams, who recently, because of Andrew’s financial situation, had become a man of all trades, met him in the entryway with a baffled look on his face. “It’s in your study as you directed, my lord,” he said, putting on the air of a butler.

  “What are you talking about? What did you put in my study?” Not waiting for an answer, he strode down the hall, opened the door to his study, and for the first time he could remember since he was a boy, he let out howls of laughter. After several minutes, when he was finally composed enough to speak, he held his sides and shook his head. “That little minx!”

  ***

  None of the women left the drawing room after the earl left. Mama sat at the small secretary by the window and wrote out the guest list to the wedding she was sure would soon be taking place. Liberty was ticking off everybody’s—including her own—improprieties. Brooke tried fruitlessly to concentrate on her embroidery. And Madison sat quietly looking out the window.

  It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later when Madison, of all people, with a look of sheer bewilderment broke the silence. “What happened to the third painting th
at was on the back wall?”

  No longer able to control herself, Brooke broke out in hysterics.

  Chapter 5

  Next day

  Andrew twisted his lips and drummed his fingers on the desk, staring at the blank parchment in front of him. What would be the harm in sending her a missive to thank her for that truly spectacular gift? It wasn’t custom for men and women to exchange letters without some sort of relation. That could ruin a young lady, for goodness’ sake! He blinked. Yes, yes, it could. And that was his goal, was it not? He sighed. That was his goal, unpleasant as it might be. So with a flourish of his pen, he threw propriety to the wind and made his next bold move.

  From Earl of Townson to Miss Brooke Banks, 11:00 a.m.—

  Miss Brooke Banks,

  I do appreciate your gift. I will treasure it always.

  Townson

  ***

  Brooke stared at the missive in her hand. He’d written her? Surely it was improper for an unmarried and unrelated man and woman to exchange letters. But it was probably more improper she’d given him a “gift” to start with, she thought cheekily as she fanned herself with his missive. Liberty would know these things for sure, but it didn’t really matter. She was going to return his letter whether society allowed it or not.

  From Brooke Banks to the Earl of Townson, 11:25 a.m.—

  Townson,

  I am so happy to hear that. I fretted all last night if I had made the correct decision. I see that I did, indeed, make the right decision. I am glad to know that my art will be treasured by you, and may I presume all the future heirs of the Townson Earldom?

  Miss Brooke Banks

  From the Earl of Townson to Miss Brooke Banks, 12:45 p.m.—

  Miss Banks,

  I do not know if all the future earls will enjoy the art. But they will at least get the extraordinary opportunity to view the piece.

  Townson

  From Miss Brooke Banks to the Earl of Townson 1:05 p.m.—

  Townson,

  Does that mean you have displayed my work out in the open? The portrait gallery, perhaps?

  Brooke Banks

  From the Earl of Townson to Miss Brooke Banks, 1:40 p.m.—

  Dear Miss Brooke,

  I would be glad to hang it in the portrait gallery. In fact, I will hang it in the family gallery if you will do but one thing for me.

  Yours,

  Townson

  From Miss Brooke Banks to the Earl of Townson, 2:15 p.m.—

  Townson,

  The family gallery? Truly? Did you enjoy my painting so much you want me to be your countess? I am anxiously awaiting your reply because my mother is already planning the wedding, and I will immediately go pick out my trousseau!

  Yours Truly,

  Brooke

  From the Earl of Townson to Miss Brooke Banks, 2:45 p.m.—

  Dearest Brooke,

  I am charmed that you would accept my wedding proposal, had I made one. But the condition on which I will decide to hang the portrait up in the family gallery has nothing to do with whether we marry or not, but rather another very important question. Who do the initials: JRS belong to?

  Never fear, my dear. I know they are not yours, and that you did not paint that dreadful mess, but it has not ruled out my interest in you. I will come by your townhouse at four this afternoon, and I would like you to accompany me for a ride around the park.

  Yours,

  Andrew Black, Townson

  “Why would anyone want to claim that? It's a dreadful disgrace to the world of art,” Brooke muttered to herself after she reread his note for the third time.

  ***

  At exactly four in the afternoon, a knock rattled the front door, followed by none other than the Earl of Townson being let in.

  Skulking about in the shadows, a little smile spread over her Brooke’s lips. She was glad he'd come.

  After a few minutes of drawing room chitchat, Andrew and Brooke climbed into a curricle and were off for a ride around the park.

  “My favorite color is red,” Andrew stated blandly, his eyes alight with laughter.

  Confused by the proclamation, Brooke nodded and shrugged. “Mine's green.”

  “That’s nice. I’ll keep that in mind. However, I had guessed that already, seeing as how your gown today is green. I believe the one you wore yesterday was, too,” he said, gesturing to her forest green gown.

  “I guess I'm very obvious in what colors I like, unlike you. I have yet to see you wear red,” Brooke said pertly.

  “I said my favorite color is red, not that I like to wear it,” Andrew parried.

  “Why would you tell me your favorite color? And, if it’s your favorite color, why not wear it?” She favored him with a curious look.

  “Just because I don’t want to wear it, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want you to wear it,” he countered, putting deliberate emphasis on the word “you”. “I’m telling you this so you know what color to choose during your visit to the modiste.”

  Brooke turned her body the best she could to look him in his eyes. His cobalt blue eyes were looking straight at her as if they could see right through her. She didn’t know exactly what it was he could see, or if it was a good or bad thing he saw. “Why would I be going to a modiste?”

  “For your trousseau, darling,” he drawled. When heat crept up her face, he pushed further, “But if you want, you can spare the expense of building a trousseau.” He shrugged with nonchalance. “Nothing is the preferable choice for one’s wedding night. But since you think a trousseau is necessary, you should know my favorite color is red. Oh, and I also like things that are filmy and transparent.”

  “And why would I be creating my trousseau with your favorite color?” she asked, astonished they were even speaking of such things. Both Mama and Liberty would be scandalized if they knew.

  Letting go of the reins with one hand, he grabbed both of her hands with one of his, then grinned at her. “You seem to be bent on the idea of becoming my countess. If you are to be the Countess of Townson, that would make me your husband. As such, I thought you should be aware that I will be the one and only to see you modeling said trousseau. Therefore, I thought to tell you what color you should choose for my enjoyment.”

  Why would he speak to her about such scandalous topics? Then it made sense to her, he was trying to bait her because of the note she’d written. The fact they’d been corresponding that way in the first place was scandalous enough, but the tone their letters had taken pushed the bounds completely. What started out as formal, polite, and simple had turned very informal and downright scandalous by the time they’d exchanged their last few letters.

  “I’m so glad you told me. I quite forgot I have an appointment on Thursday. I shall remember to get something red and filmy just for you,” she said with a sensual smile. Then her smile faded, and she tapped her finger against the side of her head, feigning deep contemplation. “When I go in, should I have these garments and some much needed fashionable ball gowns added to your account?”

  Brooke thought something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone before she could name it.

  “I have no money, darling. If you agree to marry me and be my countess, we will be known as the Penniless Earl and Countess of Townson,” he said jovially with a self-depreciating smile firmly on his lips.

  Brooke couldn’t stop the little laugh that escaped her lips. “Well then, I suppose I could splurge with my allowance and buy my own trousseau. Don’t worry though, after we marry and you get my dowry, which is a whole fifty pounds, we’ll be rich and live like kings!” she teased.

  “Fifty pounds you say? Well, I don’t know about living like kings, but perhaps we could live like princes,” he said with a bright smile.

  “Oh yes! We could have so many wonderful things. We could go to the opera every night, and host huge house parties all Season,” she exclaimed playfully. Brooke truly had a dowry, but it wasn’t a measly fifty pounds. In American dollars, her dowry woul
d have been larger. However, when exchanged into pounds it came to be about five thousand pounds. Just enough to be considered a generous amount, but not enough to be pursued by every fortune hunter. But just to be sure, her papa hadn’t made known the amount of her dowry.

  Andrew pulled the curricle to a halt and jumped down. After helping Brooke down, he led her to an unoccupied bench. “Here, let’s sit.”

  Brooke currently had no interest in the bench. “Oh, look at the flowers. They are absolutely beautiful,” Brooke said, walking over to a flower bush. “Back in New York, flowers are rare. Well, not rare exactly, but they don’t grow like this.”

  “Flowers don’t grow in New York?” Andrew asked skeptically.

  Brooke laughed. “No, they grow. But with all the snow, ice, and cold, we don’t get to spend very long looking at flowers—except roses of course.”

  “Ah, roses, one of the few flowers that thrive in cold weather.”

  Brooke took a seat on the bench and waited for Andrew to join her. “The rose is the most common flower found in New York,” she said, trying to fill the silence.

  “Is it safe to say that you like roses then?”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t be a true New Yorker if I didn’t,” she said in the thickest New York accent she could muster.

  Shaking his head, Andrew took a seat next to her on the bench. “So, dahling,” he drawled, matching her Yankee accent, “what color roses are your favorites?”

  Brooke laughed at his imitation of her speech. “Why? Are you planning to buy me some?” She paused a second. “Oh right, I forgot you’re a pauper. You can’t buy them. Are you going to grow them for me?” She honestly doubted he’d ever given much thought to growing roses, or any type of flowers for that matter.

  “I’d definitely have to grow them, as I don’t have the extra funds for one stem,” he said earnestly. He placed his fingers under Brooke’s chin and turned her head to face him so he could look deep into her eyes. “You still did not answer my question. Which color do you prefer?”