by Rose Gordon
“I thought maybe we could have a little privacy. That is, unless you truly were interested in seeing some ancient swords,” Andrew replied, walking to go stand beside Brooke who was now in front of the statue.
“No, this statue is far more interesting than any old sword ever could be, that’s for sure,” she managed, looking at the statue in complete awe.
The statue was of a man holding a spear. Other than the spear, there was nothing else sculpted, just a very muscular man standing naked, holding a spear.
Brooke had never seen a naked man in real life or a drawing before. This was the closest she had come, and being as innocent as she was about a man’s form, this was fascinating to her. She marveled at how different this man’s body was than hers, even if he was made of stone. She was thin and had slender arms and legs, but this sculpture had thick arms and legs that were bulging muscles. His chest and stomach were flat except a few bumps of ripples. She noticed that the man had hair under his arms, a little on his chest and quite a bit surrounding a part she’d never seen before that rested between his thighs. For Brooke, the statue held a higher level of appeal than swords ever could.
Andrew chuckled when he reached her side. But that didn’t stop her looking. She could no more take her eyes off the statue than she could deny a thirsty man water. She looked the statue over up and down, down and up, twice before breaking her line of vision. Then she turned and met Andrew’s piercing eye. He had been watching her stare shamelessly at the statue! She thought he was looking at the statue, too, not her. She tried to keep a straight face and not show any signs of being embarrassed. She’d sworn to herself that he wasn’t going to get the better of her today, and she was going to make sure of it.
“See something of interest?” His voice was hoarse, and his eyes were a shade darker than usual.
“Yes, this statue is quite extraordinary,” Brooke answered as evenly as she could.
Andrew leaned closer to read the plaque next to the statue. “Hmm, I don’t recognize this piece or the sculptor.”
“Well, sir, do you make a point to memorize all the naked statues in the world?” Brooke teased.
Andrew smiled at her. “No, only the ones of women.”
Brooke gave him a playful swat on the arm. “You’re incorrigible.”
Andrew didn’t answer to that charge, probably because it was true and he knew it as well as she did. Instead, he moved a few inches closer to Brooke, closing the gap between them. He reached out and cupped her chin, tipping her face up toward his. “You’re really beautiful, did you know?”
Brooke’s lips parted and her eyes went wide. She had never been called beautiful before, attractive—yes, but not beautiful. “Thank you. Everyone always calls Madison beautiful, never me,” she said before she realized she had revealed too much. A part of her that was vulnerable.
Andrew leaned so close Brooke felt his warm breath on her face. “To me, you are far more beautiful than Madison.” Then he lowered his head and very lightly brushed his lips across hers.
Brooke almost melted on the spot. His kind words had softened her resolve, but his tender kiss was almost her undoing. “You have quite an unmatched skill, my lord,” Brooke said weakly.
Rather than responding to her words with words of his own, Andrew moved closer and kissed her again. This time his kiss was not a quick brush of the lips. It was an assault of lips. He started his kiss gently, and just when her lips were used to having his on them, he became more aggressive. Her body relaxed and her lips started to respond to his. He moved his hands around to rest on her back and draw her closer while his lips continued to mesh with hers.
Brooke’s hands moved on their own accord up to his neck, and she dug into the soft, black curls that rested against his collar. Her fingers twisted his hair as his lips pressed harder, moving on top and in between hers. Her body was giving up its fight to stay standing, and she would have sunk to the floor if he had not been holding onto her. She leaned against his chest and his hands tightened their grip to hold her in place.
Andrew pulled back and looked down at her. “How do you feel about my skills now?” he asked with a ragged breath, his eyes even darker than they were a few minutes before.
Even with the blood thundering in her ears she understood his question, yet she couldn’t form a coherent response. She nodded instead. She knew she was flushed from the kiss and her body felt absolutely boneless in his arms.
Andrew smiled and ran the pad of one of his thumbs across her swollen lips. “You are truly beautiful. I don’t care what anyone else says. To me, you are more beautiful than your sisters.”
Her heart fluttered at his words. He truly thought she was beautiful. “We should probably return to Mama and Madison before they come looking for us,” Brooke forced herself to say before stepping backward and out of his embrace. She wished she could stay in this moment forever, but that wasn’t possible, and it really would not do to be found in this position. It could mean they might be forced to marry, which she didn’t want to happen—did she?
“You’re right,” Andrew murmured, offering her his arm.
They barely walked three steps down the hall before nearly colliding with Mama and Madison. “How were the swords?” Mama inquired, acting truly interested in ancient weapons.
“They were not so interesting,” Brooke said dismissively, hoping Mama wouldn’t insist on going into the room they’d just left. “I’d like to go look at some of those paintings that were mentioned in my book.”
“Paintings are down this hall over here,” Andrew said, pointing to a hall on the left leading to where a number of portraits of former kings and queens were located.
Standing in front of the portraits of the past kings of England, Madison asked, “Did any of these men actually do anything, or are they just up here because they were kings?”
“These here,” Andrew said pointing to two different King Henrys, “are responsible for reforming the entire judicial system of England. Before them, the judicial system was a mess. It was based off the whims of nobles or the Pope. However, Henry VIII created the Church of England and ended the Pope’s political control of England.” Pointing to Henry VII, he said, “His father, Henry VII, made changes by appointing each village a Justice of the Peace or magistrate to keep things under control in each area. Punishments were no longer given out on the personal opinion of the person hearing the case. Instead, laws were created and the Justice of the Peace made sure they were followed. If a problem came about that could not be easily solved, or required more proof, a jury would be brought in to keep it fair. You are familiar with the role of judges and juries in the United States are you not?” Andrew asked, raising a brow toward Mama.
“Not personally, I assure you,” Mama quickly replied tartly. “But yes, we do use them in our legal system back in the United States. I suppose it is one of the few things the colonists liked about the way their homeland was run, since they included it in the New World.” Andrew gave a bark of laughter.
“Stop that. You’re drawing attention over here,” Brooke hissed.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Andrew said unapologetically. He shook his head. “One of the few things they liked,” he muttered disbelievingly.
“Wasn’t Henry VIII the one who had his wife’s head chopped off because she didn’t bear him a son?” Madison asked pertly.
Before Andrew could answer, Mama jumped in. “Girls, I believe Papa will be waiting on us. We should be going back now.”
In the carriage on the way back to the townhouse, Brooke once again did not participate in the conversation. But instead of thinking of Andrew’s legs this time, she was dreaming and reliving the torrid kiss they’d shared.
Not letting go of Brooke’s hand after she descended the carriage, Andrew ran his thumb back and forth across her knuckles. “Will I be able to see you again before you leave for the house party?”
“No, Papa said we are to leave tomorrow. We’re going to spend a few days in Bath before
going to the party.”
“Until the next time, then.” Andrew bent and placed a slow, lingering kiss on the back of Brooke’s hand.
Brooke tried to hide her disappointment at not knowing when the “next time” was as she watched Andrew turn, get back into his carriage, and roll away.
Chapter 10
The Banks family left London for Bath by traveling coach bright and early the next morning. The family was to spend a few days seeing the countryside before going to the baron’s house party.
Brooke and her sisters filled those days spending as much of their allowances as they could on as many things as they felt their lives would not be complete without.
Liberty visited the little bookshop and found a few volumes of interest. To Brooke’s great surprise, they were not manuals of any sort, but rather novels.
Madison enjoyed the confection shop most of all. The girls had gone inside searching for chocolate and other sweets. In New York they had only had chocolate in little chunks, but the confection shop heated it up and made it into a liquid. After only one sip, Madison claimed it was her new favorite drink and had gone so far as to request it with her meals back at Dog and Fox.
Brooke spent her time looking around a milliner’s shop. She’d pause and smile every time she saw something red. She still dreamed every night of that kiss that she had shared with Andrew. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get that kiss out of her head. He’d teased her a little after it, but that didn’t matter. The kiss itself was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She’d kissed a few gentlemen in New York and in London, but none of them matched the excitement she felt when she kissed Andrew. He seemed to spark something in her that no other had. It was thrilling!
The day before the house party, the Banks family decided it was time to try out one of those bathhouses that were so popular.
“I have made arrangements for us to each have our own private bathing room,” Papa said when they were all crammed into their traveling coach riding down to the bathhouse.
Walking into the bathhouse, Brooke spotted a young lady that was ghostly pale with bright orange-red hair sitting in the waiting room. Upon closer inspection, Brooke recognized Lady Olivia sitting down and waiting for her turn.
“Hello, Miss Banks,” Lady Olivia chirped from where she was perched on a chair looking faint, as usual. Her green eyes crinkled in the corners when she spoke. Immediately, her fatter-than-sausage fingers flew to her face to smooth out the wrinkles her smile created on the freckled skin that surrounded her eyes like a raccoon’s mask.
“Hello, Lady Olivia,” Brooke and Liberty responded in unison. Madison didn’t respond. She was following the attendant down the hall to where her bath was waiting for her.
“It’s nice to see you ladies here. I’m about to perish of boredom waiting for my bath. Will you come join me?” Lady Olivia asked with a pout that caused her face to bloat in a way that reminded Brooke of a toad.
“Of course.” Brooke sent Liberty and her mother pleading glances, which they ignored as they walked away and took a seat on the other side of the room.
Brooke sat down and looked around for any kind of distraction. She didn’t particularly like Lady Olivia, but it would seem impolite not to try to talk about something. “Are you planning to attend the house party tomorrow?” she finally asked.
“I should like to.” Lady Olivia smiled, displaying her yellowing and misaligned teeth. “I have plans to see a certain houseguest.”
“Plans?” Brooke asked, bemused.
“Well, not plans exactly. But I am quite certain I can bag him if I can get him alone for a few minutes.”
“Bag him?” Brooke asked, even more confused now.
“Bag him, catch him, snare him, snag him, whatever you want to call it. See, I’m on the hunt for a husband. I am nearly twenty years old now. Far too old to still be single. Before much longer I will be firmly on the shelf and labeled a spinster.” Lady Olivia gave a little shudder. “I don’t want that to happen, so I’ve decided to take a husband. The lucky gentleman whom I have selected is planning to attend the party.” Lady Olivia gave an anguished sigh. “The only pit in the plum now is I’m not feeling the thing, so I need this bath to take care of my ailment so I can go.”
Brooke just stared at Lady Olivia, her mouth opening and shutting like a fish. She wasn’t sure whom she felt more sympathy toward: this gentleman, who was going to be chased by Lady Olivia, or Lady Olivia herself, who clearly was more cracked than Brooke originally thought. The lucky man? More like the poor man. And who was to say that at twenty a lady was firmly on the shelf? If that were so, at almost three-and-twenty, Brooke was an antique.
Brooke couldn’t just sit there with her mouth agape. She tried to think of something polite to say, and came up with nothing.
Finally, curiosity got the better of her. “Who is the lucky gentleman?” She tried not to let her voice falter on the word lucky.
“The Earl of Townson, of course,” Lady Olivia said as casually if she were stating the weather conditions.
Brooke was not prepared for that answer, and for the first time in her life she almost swooned. When she got past the dizzy feeling, her jaw opened and snapped shut again. There was no of course about it. Brooke had never even considered the possibility. Those two were the most ill-suited people she had ever met. How could Lady Olivia even think it would be a good match?
“I can tell by your pasty, white face that you do not agree with my selection,” Lady Olivia said, breaking into Brooke’s thoughts. “However, the facts remain that I am an heiress, and quite frankly it’s no secret that he’s destitute. We both have something the other one needs. He’ll have my money, and I’ll have a title.”
“But—but—” Brooke sputtered.
“It’s not so unusual. That’s why most of the ton is married to their spouses. Some need money, some need connections. It’s the way of things.” Lady Olivia seemed content that someone would marry her for her money alone.
It was none of Brooke’s concern if those two decided to marry, yet she had a sudden ache in her chest she couldn’t identify. She tried to gather her wits about her again. “Don’t you want to marry for love?”
“No,” Lady Olivia said flatly. “I do not believe in marrying for love. Furthermore, I do not believe I could ever love my husband, especially if he were the earl. That man is despicable. He’s not very handsome. That broken nose of his has put off many women, especially when they hear the rumors about how it got broken. Fisticuffs, and with the Duke of Gateway no less, how absurd!” She gave a sniff of disgust to prove her disdain. “I’ll just have to make do. I suppose there are some sacrifices one must make in order to be a countess.”
Trying not to let on how unsettled she was by what Lady Olivia had told her, Brooke noticed her attendant coming and said quickly, “I believe my attendant is motioning for me. I hope to see you at the house party.”
Brooke walked slowly to her room. She was too distracted about all of the things Lady Olivia had said to keep pace with the attendant.
When she reached her room, she disrobed and stepped into the bath. The bath looked like a large hole in the floor that was covered in tiles and filled up with water. It was very unusual looking, but she was still very excited to try it out. This would be one experience she could tell all her friends back in New York. An experience they would never get to have, she had to make sure to enjoy every minute of it and remember all the details.
The water was warmer than regular bath water, but not too hot. It felt good on her skin. Brooke sat on one side of the tub and stretched her legs out. She rolled her ankles and relaxed her whole body, which was so easy to do in all this warm water.
She closed her eyes and let her mind travel. She thought about her time in London. All the balls and soirees she’d attended. All the gentlemen she'd met, and there had been many.
Then her mind went to one gentleman in particular: Andrew Black, Earl of Townson. He was differe
nt, but she couldn’t decide how or why. He wasn’t overly handsome or charming, but in her mind he was the most handsome of all the men she had met thus far. She thought about the way he smelled like he'd been outside working in a field or with horses all day. But it wasn’t a repulsive smell. It was purely masculine, and for reasons she didn’t understand, it made her all the more attracted to him.
Brooke thought about the visit to the museum. During the carriage ride, he’d so brazenly pressed his thigh up against hers. That wasn’t the first time he had done that, either. He’d also acted so bold the night he had dinner with her family. She’d felt the same searing sensation that night too. But unlike the day at the museum, he hadn’t kissed her the night at her house, even though she had desperately wanted him to. She had been so disappointed when he denied he had that kind of interest in her, she had tried so hard not to let it show. The day at the museum made up for it.
A frown took over her face when she remembered the conversation she had just had with Lady Olivia. How could anyone not find the earl handsome? Brooke had noticed Andrew’s nose wasn’t straight when they first met. Her first assumption was that maybe he had broken it in some sort of accident, not a fight. It was hard to picture him fighting against anyone. He always seemed calm and reserved. She wondered what could shake him enough to get into a fight. And why fight with the Duke of Gateway of all people? What was the reason for the fight in the first place? More importantly, why did anyone still care?
Leaving thoughts of Andrew’s past behind, she started to think of his present situation. Was Andrew really that poor? They’d jested about it that day in the park, but she thought he was exaggerating a bit. Andrew did say someone would marry Lady Olivia for her money. Brooke’s frown deepened. Would Andrew marry Lady Olivia for her money?
Then, something that Lady Olivia said finally sank in. The earl was coming to the house party. She had been so upset by the rest of what Lady Olivia said, she hadn’t realized she would get see him tomorrow.