by Rose Gordon
The whole table once again looked to Brooke’s gown, all looking at the various places where rosettes were visible, which just happened to be her bodice. Brooke’s face turned pink again, but Andrew didn’t think it was because everyone was looking at her. He was sure it was because he was touching her ankle with his foot.
Andrew enjoyed that she had become flustered and unable to speak. He enjoyed it even more a moment later when she jumped a little after he slipped his foot out of his shoe and ran it along her lower calf. Though he kept his foot outside her gown, her face told him it was still causing the desired effect on her. It was making her uncomfortable. Which meant soon, she’d be rambling nonsense. His male pride soared.
She turned to look at him with an innocent face and sweetly asked, “What makes you think I would know anything about roses and their meanings, my lord?”
Andrew may not be able to get to her with his words, but he was definitely unsettling her with his foot. “I just thought this was something that would be of interest to you, since you are from New York—” he paused in mock contemplation— “which, if I remember correctly, would mean you have seen quite a few. Or was I misinformed?”
“Very true,” agreed Mrs. Banks, oblivious to the tension between Brooke and Andrew. “Roses are abundant in the state of New York. In fact, I daresay that if there were ever to be such a thing as a state flower, the rose would be it!”
The men in the room shook their heads at Mrs. Banks’s suggestion that a state would have a particular flower to be known for and use it as a symbol. Good thing men ran the government. Such ideas were ridiculous! Leave it to a woman to think a state needed a “state flower”. What next, a state fruit? Andrew snorted at the very idea. Glancing over to Mr. Banks, he rather thought the man agreed with him, but didn’t wish to hurt his wife’s feelings by saying anything.
“Mrs. Banks,” Andrew said, never taking his eyes off Brooke’s pink face while he spoke to her mother. “One would assume that if roses were so commonplace where you hail from, that a person might find them of interest and know what they signify. Right?”
“That is very true. All three of my daughters enjoy roses. Brooke even planted some very beautiful rose bushes for our balcony garden back in the city,” Mrs. Banks said, pride filling her voice and face.
“Ah, so my original assumption that you would know about roses and their meanings was not amiss,” Andrew observed aloud. His eyes were trained on Brooke as his foot continued to observe her ankle—under her skirt.
“Umm…uh…” Brooke stammered. “I know a little of roses and growing them. However, I cannot begin to know why you would have a sudden interest in their meanings.”
“Well, that’s simple enough. You see, I was admiring your gown, as I’m sure everyone else in the room has done at some point this evening, when I noticed that you have white, pink, and red roses along the edges. Being a sort that is always thirsting for knowledge, I wondered what, if anything, the different colors meant.”
Brooke acted like she barely understood what exactly he had said. Her face took on a faraway look. Her wide eyes were staring across the room, her breathing became shallow, and her mouth hung slightly open. Andrew assumed the reason for her ignorance was because he kept running his stocking-clad foot up and down her shapely calf.
When Andrew gave a delicate cough, she started. “As it happens, I do know a little about growing roses. I’m not certain I would be the most knowledgeable about their meanings, however.” Her voice was low and held a hint of agitation.
“Poppycock,” Madison said with a wave of her hand, not recognizing her sister’s uncomfortable state. “Brooke knows more about roses than the rest of us combined. She adores them. Not only does she grow them, she also has a book about their meanings, and when certain roses are acceptable to give and receive. On more than one occasion I have been bored to tears hearing all about it.”
Andrew froze in astonishment. Not only did he just learn how much stock Brooke put into roses, but that was more than he had heard Madison say in all of his visits combined. Maybe she wasn’t as featherbrained as he originally thought.
Breaking his thoughts, Liberty said, “Tell him the meanings. He asked.”
“Yes, I did ask. Please, tell me everything you know. I’m very curious,” Andrew encouraged.
Brooke looked straight into his eyes, which he knew were alight with amusement. His foot, however, was no longer on her leg. “Their meanings are easy really. White ones stand for purity. Pink are for adoration or appreciation. And the red ones, they stand for love.”
While she’d been speaking, Andrew had shifted slightly in his chair. He moved just enough that he could be closer to her without drawing anyone’s attention. Once he was satisfied nobody detected anything, he boldly pressed his thigh against hers. “Are you trying to say you represent all three of these things at once by wearing them all at the same time?” Andrew asked. His voice took on a more silky tone, while his thigh pressed even harder against hers.
“No,” Brooke answered with a slight hitch in her voice. “The gown is in no way a statement about me. It is just that—a gown. I was telling you what the roses would mean if being given in real life.”
“I think the roses on your gown could be considered a statement,” Andrew said matter-of-factly. When nobody else in the room said anything, Andrew decided it was time to put on the charm and woo the whole family at once. “I’d assume that the white ones, meaning purity, would reflect you, seeing as how you are very innocent. The pink ones could symbolize that there is much to adore and admire about you. Several of which I have learned of in the past few minutes. Furthermore, the red ones, symbolizing love, could be a personal statement of how easy it would be for someone to have that emotion for you.”
When everyone was silent after his speech, except Mrs. Banks, who let out a wistful gasp, Andrew realized he had just made a huge fool of himself. Instead of saying something clever, witty, and relatively romantic, he had basically just declared his love and adoration for this woman. A woman he had no business having any kind of feelings for, especially love.
The silence stretched out for a few minutes before Mrs. Banks gave a delicate cough. Andrew couldn’t be sure but he took that to mean, she was trying to remind them to close their mouths that were gaping with awe, and for Brooke to acknowledge the compliment. Neither of which happened right away.
It was Mr. Banks who ended the torturous silence. “Well, now that we all have a thorough understanding of how roses relate to Brooke’s personality, I should like to inform you all we are to go see my brother in a week. He and his wife are hosting a house party and we have been invited. Naturally, I told him we would be delighted to attend.”
This was certainly good news for Andrew. The baron’s oldest son Alex was one of the few people of the ton Andrew considered a true friend, which meant he would be able to secure an invitation to the house party. This could work out very well for him and his plans.
“Are we to go to Bath, then?” Liberty inquired of no one in particular.
“We can go to Bath if you desire, but their estate is actually about ten miles outside of Bath,” John informed his daughter matter-of-factly.
“I should like to visit a bathhouse,” Liberty said excitedly. “Lady Olivia Sinclair makes trips regularly. She says the baths keep you in good health.”
“Lady Olivia needs all the help she can get on that score,” Brooke quipped.
“How so?” Mrs. Banks asked. She cocked her head and her brow knit a little in confusion as she looked to her daughters to supply an answer.
“Lady Olivia is always unwell,” Madison answered. “Why, just last week when I was to accompany her to buy more ribbons, at her request might I add, her butler informed me she had taken to her room for the day with a headache, backache, fever, and a leg cramp.”
“If you ask me, the girl likes to be sick,” Brooke added.
“Exactly so,” Andrew agreed. “I’ve known her ol
der brother since we were boys together at Eton. He confided in us all that she was the sickliest creature he had ever met, and that she loves to take to the sickroom. He even said he believed half of her ‘conditions’ were made up just for attention.”
“I bet her family despairs she shall never marry,” Liberty said, shaking her head.
“Indeed, who would want such a sickly wife? Especially if the man in question needed an heir,” Mrs. Banks said with true sympathy ringing in her voice.
Andrew knew the answer to that: any man who needed enough money. Her family was one of the richest in England. “Her dowry will help her make a match when it’s time,” Andrew said smoothly, silently praying that her money wouldn’t be needed to secure him as said match.
“Shall we retire to the drawing room? Perhaps we could play a game,” Mrs. Banks suggested when silence filled the room once again.
Though her words came out sounding like a suggestion, Andrew knew her meaning was not. There was no mistaking her tone. They were going to play a parlor game.
On the way to the drawing room, Andrew leaned down close to Brooke’s ear and whispered, “I do believe you look good in red.” He said the words so low that he was sure nobody else could have heard them, but just to make sure, he deliberately slowed his steps so they could put some distance between them and the rest of her family.
“Yes, I agree. Mama says it’s my color.”
“It’s your color, indeed. I do believe anything you don that’s red will look good on you. Especially something red and perhaps transparent,” Andrew said in a silky tone.
Brooke gave him a sharp look and gestured to where the rest of her family was just steps ahead of them, possibly in earshot.
“It’s clear you do not wish to talk about your trousseau any longer. Instead we shall discuss your visit to Bath,” he mused.
“It shall be quite refreshing to get out of the city and see some of the country,” Brooke responded flatly.
Andrew stopped in the hall and turned to fully face Brooke. “Yes, the countryside shall be refreshing. It shall put some color in your cheeks, I am quite sure.” Then Andrew’s voice took on a deep husky tone and he added, “The baths your sister spoke of will add some color, too.”
At his comment, her face right there in the hallway of her uncle’s London townhouse took on some color. Even though she was an innocent, she had understood his innuendo and it made her blush, just as he had hoped.
“I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be talking to me about such things as personal as bathing,” Brooke said in an unsteady tone.
“Not appropriate?” Andrew asked quietly, his voice dripping with mock horror while his hands flew to his chest and his eyes went wide. “I wouldn’t want to offend your sensibilities, I assure you. However, when did you begin to care about what was appropriate and inappropriate? Have you been reading Liberty’s etiquette manuals?”
“No, I have not,” Brooke snapped. “The point is, you have been overly friendly all evening and I would like it if you would stop.”
Andrew raised a brow at her. “Overly friendly, is that what you call it? I remember you saying some things that could be considered overly friendly.”
“Like what?” is what Andrew expected her to say. But instead, “Stop looking at me that way,” was her response.
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like you want to kiss me,” Brooke answered breathlessly.
Andrew inched his face a little closer to hers. “Maybe I do.” As he said it, he realized it was true; he did want to kiss her. But that was not advantageous. “Maybe I don’t.”
“Maybe you don’t?” Brooke asked disbelievingly. “Every man who has looked at me the way you are right now has tried to kiss me.”
“Every man? How many have there been?” he asked, without a hint of shock in his voice. She was a beautiful young woman. He’d be more surprised if there hadn’t been any.
Brooke gave a forced shrug. “Not so many.”
Andrew decided to let that pass. Who was he to care how many men had tried to kiss her? Just because he wanted to kiss her didn’t give him a right to demand the names of all the other cads who already had. “Well then, my dear, you have a lot to learn about men. I, for one, do not intend to kiss you.” Then silently, he added, “Yet.”
Brooke flushed with what he thought to be embarrassment. She cleared her throat. “I think we should join the others.”
Andrew nodded his affirmation and they continued down the hall in silence.
They were immediately accosted by Mrs. Banks when they stepped into the drawing room. “We have just decided on teams for charades. You two shall be a team. Liberty and Madison will be another team, and Mr. Banks and I will make up the third team. Why don’t you go sit down on the red settee and wait while Madison and Liberty are out practicing their scene?” she said as happily as a child who had just been given a new toy.
“All right, Mama,” Brooke said, walking to the settee.
When they were seated, Andrew turned to Brooke. “Are we really playing charades? I haven’t played this game since I was in short pants.” He tried to keep the annoyance and disbelief from his tone.
“It’s Mama’s favorite. There’s no use in fighting it. It’s better to just indulge her by playing.”
Just then Liberty and Madison came in, ready to do their scene. Their faces gave away that they were both quite proud of what they had thought up and were trying extremely hard not to giggle about it. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Madison and Liberty walked to the middle of the drawing room where Madison bowed to Liberty, and Liberty curtsied to Madison. Madison extended her hand and Liberty took it then they started to dance.
At first their dancing was very graceful, both Madison and Liberty smiling brightly at each other. He couldn’t tell if their smiles were part of the act or because they were on the verge of laughter.
After a minute, Andrew began to wonder what in the world they were acting out. Was he supposed to be guessing? All he could tell was that two people were dancing, that could be anything. That’s when it all changed.
Liberty suddenly made a big production of some imaginary object at her feet. She was dancing out of step and swishing her skirts around violently with her hips. Then in a split second, she lost her balance and toppled to the ground, pulling Madison right along with her.
Andrew immediately jumped up, ignoring what he could have sworn sounded distinctly like a dog’s bark, and rushed over to them. “Are you all right?” he asked, trying to help Madison off the floor. To his amazement, they were both laughing. Madison was laughing so hard her body was shaking, and Liberty was letting off peals of hysterical laughter, and so were their parents. Apparently everyone in the room, except for him, understood what had just happened. They were all laughing—everyone but Brooke. Brooke’s face looked slightly pink, and he could be wrong, but it looked as if she was on the verge of tears. What in the world was going on here?
“We’re fine! We’re fine!” Madison fairly shouted.
“It was all part of the act,” Liberty said in between bursts of giggles.
“What exactly was that act from?” He sincerely wanted to know, too. His understanding of charades was one acted out a popular play, book, or poem, but he had no idea what this specific act was from, or why it would have such an ill effect on Brooke.
“It’s Brooke!” Liberty squealed.
“What’s Brooke?” Andrew asked, looking back at Brooke who sat motionless.
“The act is about Brooke,” Mrs. Banks clarified for a dumbfounded Andrew. “It was one of Brooke’s first balls in New York. Prince Nikolai from Russia was visiting and had asked Brooke to dance with him. Before the dance started, Mrs. Clemmens gave Mopsy, her dreadful poodle, to a footman to take him outside for a little walk. The footman lost hold of the dog and it ran onto the dance floor. A few minutes later, Brooke lost her balance and fell to the ground, bringing the prince
with her. As if that didn’t attract enough attention, she really got full attention when Mopsy started barking and came scrambling out of Brooke’s skirt.”
The whole room erupted in laughter again.
Andrew swung his gaze to Brooke. She didn’t even have a slight smile. Her face was a light red and her lower lip was trembling ever so slightly. Her hands were in her lap, clamped tightly into two fists. She was squeezing them so tightly her knuckles were going white, and her fingernails were digging so hard into her palms he wouldn’t be surprised if in a moment there would be a trickle of red running down her palms. What he couldn’t understand was if she was embarrassed that it had happened, or that it was being told to a suitor.
He walked across the room and sat down next to her again. The rest of her family was caught up retelling the story. Far too distracted to notice the two of them. He picked up one of Brooke’s hands. He uncurled her fingers and with his thumb, then rubbed her palm where she had left four half-moon-shaped marks from squeezing so tightly. A minute later, under his ministrations, the muscles in her hand softened. “We’ve all had our moments. Some of them are worse than others,” he told her soothingly, giving her hand a friendly squeeze.
“It seems my family loves to relive mine,” Brooke said very quietly through trembling lips.
Her face was still not back to normal and her eyes looked wet, but he saw no actual tears. His heart squeezed in his chest, but he didn’t believe her family had done it with the intent to upset her so much. “You know they only did that because they love you.”
Brooke shrugged.
“It’s true. I may not know your family very well, but from what I’ve seen they love you very much. I would be willing to bet my whole fortune, which is just slightly more than forty pounds, that not only do they love you, but I think Liberty and Madison are envious it was you, and not either of them, who gave Prince Nikolai an American experience he’ll never forget.”