by Rose Gordon
Brooke tightened her grip of his hair, and groaned, “Andrew.” It was the first time she’d called him by his name, and she hoped she hadn’t overstepped by doing so. But at present, she couldn’t care enough not to do it again.
Andrew said her name while running his fingers up to her soft brown hair. He grabbed one of the curls that were overflowing from her coiffure and wrapped it loosely around his finger before giving it a gentle tug then letting it go. Then he moved his hands, reached right into the back of her massive knot of hair, and caressed her scalp with his fingers.
Brooke had been aware that it was bad form not to wear bonnets outside, and had thought to grab hers when Lady Olivia had donned hers, but Andrew had been in too much of a hurry for her to ask. Now she was glad she hadn’t bothered. His fingers tenderly dug into her hair and massaged her scalp.
Suddenly there was a distinct clink, clink, clink. Breathing raggedly, both of them drew back and looked around the room to see if they had a visitor. When Brooke moved her head back to face Andrew and his ocean blue eyes, it occurred to her what happened to make the noise they heard.
“It appears that you have dislodged some of my hairpins,” Brooke said, her voice still coming in small pants.
Andrew nodded jerkily.
Brooke leaned over and picked up a handful of hairpins that had dropped on the bench when Andrew had given one of her curls a tug.
When Andrew looked at what she held in his hand, comprehension struck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to ruin your…” He broke off and waved his hands around her head.
“It’s all right.” More than all right in her opinion. “I’ll just put these back in real quick.” In just a few seconds, Brooke had fixed her hair and it looked as good as it had before.
“You are quite talented at that,” Andrew remarked.
“Yes, well, one learns to do one’s own hair when one has no one else to do it for them,” she said dryly. Why was everyone in England so surprised to learn that a lady could fix her own hair without any help? No wonder they lost the war. Their soldiers probably depended on someone else to load their guns for them, too.
“Of course,” Andrew muttered. “Shall we go see something else?”
“Yes, though I'm surprised we haven't been accosted by Lady Olivia yet. How much time do we have left?”
Andrew reached into his pocket and withdrew his watch. “We have roughly half an hour.”
***
Andrew and Brooke made their way to the stables, with only about twenty minutes left before Lady Olivia would be foisted upon them.
“The stables?” Brooke asked.
“Yes, I wanted to let you pick out a horse,” Andrew said with a smile.
“Pick a horse? Whatever for?”
“To ride, of course. That is what one normally does with horses. I thought we could go on a ride and picnic tomorrow.” Andrew laughed as the confusion faded from her face, and joy took its place. He smiled brightly at her. Then his smile slowly faded. It was his turn to be confused. When had he ever laughed, or smiled for that matter, so often? Not for a long, long time. And why did it keep happening in the company of Brooke Banks? What was it about her that made him grin like an idiot? He shook his head. That was not a question he wanted to ponder too deeply.
Brooke took no notice of his facial expressions. She was too consumed looking around at all the horses that were before her eyes. She scanned them all. Horses of all different colors, sizes, and dispositions were in the stable yard.
In case he had to help her decide, Andrew came up next to her to look at the horses, too. Some of the horses looked too large and uncomfortable for her. A few of them looked to be too old and slow to be any fun. A couple were rather high-spirited, which could be hard for her to handle.
“I think that one. The brown one near the back, on the right,” she said, pointing to where a brown, medium-sized horse was standing in the far corner of the stable yard, her head bent, eating the grass.
“Ah, Bluebell. Good choice. I should think the two of you will get on quite nicely.” Andrew’s approval was evident in his voice, as well as in the nod of his head.
“Bluebell,” Brooke said with a smile. “I even like her name.” Then, “It is a ‘her’, isn’t it?”
Andrew chuckled. “Yes, Bluebell’s a girl.”
Brooke laughed, too. “Not that I have anything against male horses, mind you, but I should think a female horse would be more sensitive to having a female on her back.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, do you?” Andrew accused laughingly.
“Not at all.” Brooke burst into giggles.
“I shall tell one of the grooms to have her saddled for a ride tomorrow. We need to be heading back now, before Lady Olivia shows up and invites herself to our picnic.”
“All right,” Brooke agreed, giving one last look back at Bluebell.
Andrew caught sight of the look she gave Bluebell. The look on her face was pure joy. He was glad to see that. He was glad she took joy in his presence. So caught up in the idea, he leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
Brooke shot him a questioning glance, but said nothing.
Neither of them spoke during the walk back to the house. When Andrew caught sight of Alex’s grim face, he checked his watch. What good timing they had. Only mere seconds more and Lady Olivia would have been thrust upon them. Best to end this while still ahead. “I do apologize that we got separated,” Andrew said with false sincerity
Brooke suppressed a giggle. Alex rolled his eyes. Lady Olivia pouted, then said, “Well, if you hadn’t been in such a hurry to see everything we could have stayed together. You were practically running when we last saw you. Then you were gone by the time we made our rounds through the conservatory.”
“Once again, I do apologize. If you were unable to see everything you would have liked, I am fairly certain that one of Watson’s servants can complete your tour,” Andrew said smoothly.
“What of you, my lord?” she asked, batting her eyelashes. “Why don’t you give me the same tour as Miss Banks?”
She was flirting again. He wasn’t flattered, nor would he ever think of giving her the same tour he'd given Brooke. Knowing her, she’d use the tour as another opportunity to propose. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of her earlier proposal for them to marry. “As delightful as that sounds,” he said, trying not to choke on his tongue, “I cannot. I have a pressing affair just now and I fear I’m already late. So without any further ado, I must bid you adieu.” He watched in quiet amusement as both Brooke and Alex rolled their eyes at his play on words.
“I must be off, too,” Alex said without any preamble, forcefully dropping his arm and causing Lady Olivia to break her hold.
Brooke mumbled an incoherent excuse about needing a nap and ran off, leaving Lady Olivia to find her own entertainment.
Chapter 17
Brooke practically floated up to her room. Nothing could make her come back to Earth at the moment. Not even an impromptu visit from Liberty could dash her euphoric daydream.
“Where have you been all morning?” Liberty asked anxiously as she burst into Brooke’s room without so much as a knock.
“I went for a tour,” Brooke supplied, conveniently leaving off who she went with and what exactly the tour consisted of.
“I do hope you enjoyed yourself.” Liberty made herself comfortable atop Brooke’s bed. “I have suffered the most intolerable morning. Ever.” She put so much emphasis on the last word that she made it sound as if nothing, in the past or future, could possibly compare with whatever calamity she had just gone through.
Liberty’s misfortune, however, did not so much as stir Brooke. Instead, she just smiled and asked, “What could possibly be as bad as that?”
“I do believe I have found the one person in this world that I can honestly say I hate.” The declaration was made with so much conviction that Brooke jumped a little.
“Hate?” B
rooke repeated in a questioning tone, her brown eyes narrowing and her brows furrowed. “We’ve all met someone whom we dislike. I’ll gladly admit to disliking a whole list of people, but to actually hate someone…” Brooke trailed off and looked to Liberty who was wringing her hands. “Are you certain?”
Liberty nodded.
“Who is it? What did they do? Who else knows? Do you think we need to tell Papa and Mama?”
“No!” Liberty blurted abruptly.
“All right, we'll keep this to ourselves,” Brooke said calmly. It must be bad if Liberty didn’t want to tell Mama and Papa. “Why don’t you just tell me what happened and we can figure something out?”
Liberty fidgeted a minute. Then she hemmed and hawed a bit. When Brooke started making irritated rolling hand gestures, Liberty got on with it. “It’s Mr. Grimes. You know, the man Papa's mentoring?”
“Yes, I am acquainted with him.” Brooke nodded her head. She was also aware that Mr. Grimes had been Liberty’s dinner companion last night. Brooke was also aware the two of them had opposite personality types. Liberty liked to talk—blab really—whereas Mr. Grimes was silent, and when he spoke it was brief. But what Brooke was most aware of—which Liberty may not yet know—was she had a sneaking suspicion Liberty didn’t hate the man near as much as she claimed.
“I know you’re acquainted with him,” Liberty blustered, bringing Brooke back to present. “The thing is, I was talking to Madison in the drawing room and I thought we were alone. I was embroidering a handkerchief and she was just sitting there. She was daydreaming. You know how she is. She was just staring out the window, and I may have said something to her about it. And, Mr. Grimes was there and he said—”
“Wait,” Brooke clipped, raising her hand to stop Liberty’s endless chatter. Her eyes had narrowed even more and were pinned on Liberty in a way she knew scared the wits out of her younger sisters. “What did you say to Madison?” Her tone was sharp and her stare was deadly.
“Oh, nothing really,” Liberty said, looking everywhere but into Brooke’s eyes. “All right, I’ll tell you. But not because I feel guilty or anything. It’s that stare you’re giving me. Truly, Brooke, it makes me uncomfortable.”
Brooke was pleased to hear that. She enjoyed making her younger sisters uncomfortable and bending them to her will.
Liberty shook her head. “I told her to stop, that it’s not a ladylike behavior to sit around staring like that.”
“Is that all?” Brooke asked quietly. She was starting to feel less sorry for Liberty and her situation, and was rapidly growing sympathy for Madison.
“I might have mentioned a thing or two about finding a husband, not being an old maid, pursuing more ladylike interests, and suggested she just hold an embroidery loop and needle for appearance’s sake,” Liberty said meekly.
“And all of this was said in front of Mr. Grimes?” Brooke asked, knowing the answer, but desperately hoping that by some small miracle Mr. Grimes hadn't heard the entire conversation.
“Yes,” Liberty said in a small voice. Then as if a strong wind had started to blow, Liberty put some starch in her spine and inclined her chin a good fifteen degrees. “But that is nothing compared to what he said to me.” “Liberty, you’re not looking very good in this story. Are you sure you wish to finish it?” Brooke asked weakly. She didn’t know if she even wanted to hear how this was going to end.
“Yes! The things I said to Madison pale in comparison to the beastly things that coxcomb said to me,” Liberty said with a grunt.
“Did you just grunt?” Brooke asked with a grin.
“No, I did not grunt,” Liberty said defensively. “Ladies do not grunt. It’s impolite.”
“You would know, Miss Propriety.” Then just because she couldn’t help but rub Liberty’s nose in her misstep, she said, “But just so you’re aware of your fall from grace, you did too grunt. My brain knows what my ears heard.”
Liberty ground her teeth. “Fine. I grunted. I admit it. Now forget about that for a moment or I will add you to my list of people whom I hate. There may only be one person on the list now, but I assure you, there’s room for another.” The small hint of a smile on her face told Brooke her sister was trying her best to jest, despite how flustered she was.
“Go on. No more interruptions from me,” Brooke said, adding a silent, “For now.”
“After I had given my advice to Madison, not too unkindly might I add, that beast had the nerve to clear his throat, which scared us both half out of our wits. When I turned in his direction he said the most hurtful thing.” She sniffled a little and a single tear rolled from each eye.
Brooke couldn’t tell if those were real tears or just theatrics. She was beginning to wonder if she were ever going to hear this “beastly” statement made by Mr. Grimes.
Just when she couldn’t take it much longer, Liberty wiped her eyes and said, “He looked right at me and said, ‘Leave her be. You’re well on your way to being an old maid yourself.’ I was so surprised that he said that, I couldn’t say anything back. He was so mean to me.” She looked to Brooke for confirmation, but her eyes didn’t quite meet Brooke’s.
“Is that all?” To Brooke’s mind, this was not exactly a statement that would compel someone to hate another.
“No, that’s not all. If you’d let me finish, I’d tell you the rest. He then said several statements about how I stick my nose where it does not belong.” Liberty’s face turned scarlet and her voice wavered. “He was so cruel about it! He said I was cold and callous, too. Oh, Brooke, I hate him. I don’t know how Papa can tolerate his presence.”
“Are you sure you do not wish to tell Papa about the awful things Mr. Grimes said to you?” Brooke asked softly, rubbing her hand up and down Liberty’s back to help calm her down.
“No,” Liberty said adamantly.
Brooke wondered why Liberty was so set against telling Papa. If Papa knew what happened between Liberty and Mr. Grimes, surely he’d take Liberty’s side and end all association with Mr. Grimes. Unless there was something else going… She didn’t know why, but she had a feeling there was more to Liberty’s feelings for Mr. Grimes than she was sharing.
“Not to worry, I won’t say a word,” Brooke falsely assured her sister. Something about the whole situation was off. But before bringing it to Mama and Papa’s attention, she needed to get more facts. That meant asking Madison. “Why don’t you go join the others on the lawn? I believe they are playing some sort of game out there. I would like to take a nap before tea.”
Liberty got off Brooke’s bed and left.
Brooke exited right behind Liberty and went straight into Madison’s room.
“What happened between Liberty and Mr. Grimes?” Brooke demanded without ceremony.
Madison didn’t even take her eyes away from the window. With a slight sigh she said, “That didn’t take long.” The words were spoken as if she had expected someone to seek her out.
“Is it true the horrid things Mr. Grimes said to Liberty?” Brooke asked bluntly, taking a seat next to her sister on the bed.
Madison started to twist some of the fringe on the counterpane between her slender, pink-tipped fingers. “Yes, he said some wretched things to her. It wasn’t very gentlemanly of him, but who could blame him? She provoked him into it with her blistering set-down.”
“Oh, Madison,” Brooke said soothingly, moving closer to wrap her sister in an assuring hug. “I’m so sorry Liberty is so critical of you. She just doesn’t know how else to be.”
“I’m not talking about what she said to me,” Madison said, looking Brooke’s face over curiously. “I should have known,” she muttered after a minute.
“What?” Brooke asked, scooting backward. What should Madison have known?
“She didn’t tell you all of it.” She sighed. “My guess is she only told you the things he said to her about becoming an old maid and being cold, callous, and essentially calling her a busybody. Am I right?”
Brooke nodded
.
Madison mumbled a few words Brooke was unable to make out, which was probably for the best. Madison might be the daughter of a minister, but that did not qualify her for sainthood. Not only did Madison delight in hearing gossip, but from time to time, a coarse word or two would escape her lips.
“You know of the words she spoke to me, and I’m assuming you heard that when she was done he told her she was on her way to becoming an old maid herself.” At Brooke's nod, she continued, “When he barely had the words out, Liberty jumped up off the settee and said, ‘Those are not kind words for a man of God to speak. No wonder you had to seek Papa out to help you with your church. You’re probably as ineffective a minister as you are a conversationalist. I have never had such a boring dinner companion.’ Mr. Grimes made no response. He just bowed and started to leave.
“Liberty wasn’t done though. Oh no, she didn’t want him to get off so easily. Instead, she crossed her arms and said, ‘If you would be a little more sociable, your problems would diminish. If I were the vicar, I wouldn't have near the problems you do. I would have the ballocks to get down to the bottom of the mess and sort it out.’”
Brooke gasped. Her proper sister said a word like ballocks? And she wasn’t there to witness it? Life seemed to be unfair at times. But even to hear Liberty say ballocks, she wouldn’t have traded her morning with Andrew. What in the world was so provoking about Mr. Grimes to get her proper sister to act this way?
“That’s when Mr. Grimes accused her of being too involved in other people’s business for her own good. He used me as an example, which I must say was just as uncomfortable as when Liberty pointed out my flaws. That got Liberty’s hackles up further and she said, ‘You, sir, are a jackanapes. You have no business calling yourself a gentleman.’ She took a deep breath and noticed Mr. Grimes was staring at her as if she'd just grown a pair of horns. Then with a sniff to emphasize her distaste for him, she told him she wished for him to leave the room, the house party, and to go find another family to bother.”