by Rose Gordon
Willis delivered some excellent news in regards to the account books. “Last month we paid off the entire balances due to Stimple, Crate, and Greer. If the tenants continue to pay their rents, you watch your spending, and the harvest is abundant, then in two years from now you shall be completely without debt.”
That was good news. It wasn’t a windfall of money, but the idea of being debt-free made him feel like the richest man alive. “That is most excellent news,” Andrew said approvingly.
“But,” Willis began again as Andrew got up from the table, “if we were to make some modifications to Rockhurst, you could be turning a profit within three months.”
Andrew dropped back in his seat so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if he found a bruise on his backside later. “What modifications? How much profit?” he asked with keen interest.
“Before I tell you the modifications, I’ll tell you that you will be one of the richest in the land within a year.” Willis saw Andrew’s arched brow and started to spill his information. “It will cost you one thousand pounds to set up, but in one month you'll be able to pay that back. In less than three, all your father’s creditors will be paid. Your yearly income will be approximately fifty thousand pounds.”
Andrew let out a low whistle. That was more money than he’d ever dreamed of. He knew some men made excellent incomes of twenty or thirty thousand pounds from a combination of their estates, but he had never heard of fifty thousand from just one before. But he still didn’t know what modifications this would require. Most importantly, he didn’t have a thousand pounds to start with. Not giving that too much thought, he asked Willis, “What modifications?”
“Nothing really,” Willis said, brushing imaginary crumbs from the table.
Andrew felt his excitement deflate. “What are they?” he asked in a low tone.
“Mines,” Willis said with a gulp. “There is a record that indicates silver is located on your property. If you were to allow mines to dig up the metal, you will be very rich.”
“No,” Andrew said flatly, getting up from the table.
Willis had been in Andrew’s employ too long not to know to avoid arguing, so with a nod of understanding, he packed up his papers.
After his meeting with Willis, Andrew met with a few of the tenants to hear their problems and look at anything that wasn’t in working order on their homes. Even if he disagreed with the mines, he still felt it had been a productive day and was satisfied with the results.
On his ride back to the Watson estate, he thought more about the mines. He’d told Willis no, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t reconsider later if need be. The silver wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t like the idea of the noise and danger the mines would provide though. The land itself he didn’t care about, but he didn’t want anyone getting hurt.
Nor did he have the funds to build the mine, he reminded himself. That was the bigger issue. He would have to borrow the money to start with. Not to mention, if they drilled in the wrong place, then he’d have to pay to have it moved. It could become a rather costly experiment. And that was not something he was willing to take a risk on just now.
Entering the drive, he checked his watch and frowned. It was past dinner time. With any luck, Cook would still have something to eat. If not, he was hungrier than a bear that just woke up from hibernation, and would gladly ride the hour back to Rockhurst to eat if need be.
All thoughts of eating were gone as soon as he opened the door. “I’ve been waiting for you,” came Gateway’s deep voice from the shadows.
“And you will continue to wait. I am off to scrounge for some food,” Andrew said without a care for making Gateway wait.
Gateway stood from the chair he had been occupying and strolled to the stairs. Once he was on the first one, he turned his head over his shoulder. “I think this is something you'd want to hear, but if you think it’s more important to eat than to know what happened with Miss Banks tonight, that’s for you to decide.” He gave a shrug and walked up two more stairs.
“Tell me,” Andrew breathed agitatedly. Did he really need to hear this now? Yes, he probably did. Undoubtedly it involved Gateway, which could only lead to trouble.
“It would seem she heard a bit more about your past than is good for your relationship,” Gateway said with a smirk.
“What do you mean?” Andrew asked, wishing that Gateway would just say it and stop playing games.
“It seems that you and your family became the main topic of conversation after dinner tonight. Naturally, Miss Banks was there and heard all about your mother’s exile, shame, and your unusually strong affection toward her,” Gateway said with a cackle.
Andrew was too stunned to respond. Did any of that really matter? He wasn’t intending to marry her, so why should she care about his mother? Then it hit him. She had to believe he cared about her enough to marry her, which meant that his and his mother’s pasts would matter.
His appetite was no longer such a pressing matter. “Why was I made the topic of the evening?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Because you weren’t there,” Gateway said with a shrug of nonchalance. “Perhaps you should have thought of this before you went running off to your mummy.”
Andrew speared him with a look.
Gateway just stared back at him. “It’s not my fault Mr. Thomas and Lady Algen decided to pour out your family’s dirt.”
“No,” Andrew agreed softly. “But you were there and you could have said something to stop it. Do you not realize this hurts you, too?”
“How so?” Gateway asked indifferently.
“Because if she will no longer have anything to do with me, which is likely the case, then you won’t get what you want, either.”
“Not necessarily,” Gateway told him. “I can always find someone else who is willing. You were just easy to cast into the role, but I can find another, more capable man.”
“Not now,” Andrew hissed. “Either I do this, or you let the whole thing go.” It was bad enough Brooke was going to get hurt in the end. But any other man would hurt her far more than necessary, and likely do so in a way that would take away any chance for dignity or self-respect she could ever attempt to gain in the future. Quite simply, anyone else would damage her beyond repair. The thought alone made Andrew's blood run cold.
Gateway laughed his eerie villain’s laugh. “I’ll give you a few more days, Townson. If you don’t deliver by then, the bargain is off. I’ll find someone else, and all hopes of your estate will be lost.”
Andrew’s heart skipped. He’d almost forgotten about his estate in Essex. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To hold that deed once again? Not only did he want the money that the estate could provide, he longed for the estate as a way to make amends. He’d like to open the doors to that house for his mother so she could go live there without a backward glance to either London or Rockhurst. That estate in Essex was the only place that held any pleasant memories for her.
He remembered living there with her when he was a boy. His father was always in London or at Rockhurst. Andrew never remembered the earl coming to visit him in Essex. Neither he nor his mother seemed to mind his absence though.
They had no servants, except a cook, and all day he’d play with his mother and one of the village boys named Archer. Though he didn’t remember a lot about his early years in Essex, he did remember his first visit to his father's London residence.
He didn’t go for his first visit until he was five or six years old and was so nervous about meeting the earl, his father, for the first time, that he had stomach pains the whole trip. Once he arrived and they finally met, he was immediately handed over to a bitter, old nurse who took care of him the whole time. He would only see his father for brief snatches at a time every few days. When he did see him, he’d beg to go back home to his mother. When he finally was allowed to go home, his one and only friend had gone away, and his mother started being absent in the afternoon doing countess duties and had t
o leave him with a nurse.
Even though his mother had been gone during the afternoons, she was there in the mornings and they had remained close. He felt she was all he had in the world, and she acted as if she felt the same way.
Every few months his father would send a letter to his mother asking that she have Andrew packed and ready on the front steps when his servant arrived. She would, and they’d say their tearful goodbyes, then he’d go stay with his father for a few months before returning. Growing up this way, he didn’t realize this wasn’t the usual way of families.
When he was thirteen and it came time to go to Eton, his father sent note that he was too busy to bring him and his mother would need to do it. She agreed. Leaving the house that autumn morning was the last good memory he had of his mother from boyhood. They had talked the whole way to Eton; both secretly glad Father had decided not to come. But upon arrival at the school, Andrew’s world and relationship with his mother fell apart in one fell swoop.
The boys had teased him that evening after she left and continued for a few days. Not only were they talking about him and claimed he had an unusually strong attachment to his mother because she'd brought him to school instead of his father like everyone else, but they talked about her. They called her a whore and him a bastard. That was when he had decided it was best if he severed his ties with her as best he could. Not because he actually believed the rumors, but for the simple, selfish reason that he was tired of being harassed.
A week or so after the term started, she sent him a package, and he promptly sent it back to her with a letter asking her to refrain from communicating with him any further. She never sent him another note or even invited him to see her until after his father died.
It would be nice to have the money the estate could produce, but at the same time, he wanted to use the house as a grand gesture to mend the rift he'd selfishly created. Not that she had ever refused to see him when he had gone to visit her, nor had she ever acted coldly toward him. She'd even said she held no grudges, but he could see the hurt rooted deeply in her eyes. He’d do anything to take that hurt away. Which meant he had to get that estate back. And the only way to do that was to hurt an innocent bystander.
The guilt that he was going to mend one broken relationship at the cost of another was almost enough to make him call it all off. Almost.
Food was the furthest thing from his mind as Andrew trudged up the stairs. Tomorrow he’d take Brooke on a picnic, honestly answer any questions she asked about his past, and see how far she'd let him go. If she responded to his advances, he’d set up her ruination for the following night.
Andrew lay awake in his bed almost all night staring at the canopy overhead, trying to convince himself that the reason he couldn’t sleep was due to the gossip about his family, and had nothing to do with his growing feelings for Brooke.
Chapter 19
Breakfast was a very short affair for Brooke. She barely had time to eat five bites before her mother pulled her into a private drawing room.
“Brooke, are you all right?” Mama asked, looking around.
“Yes, Mama, I’m fine,” Brooke lied.
“I know you heard some unsavory information about your suitor last night. But I wanted you to know that most of it isn’t true. I spoke to Regina last evening, and Papa talked to your uncle,” Mama said softly.
“It’s not about what was said, exactly,” Brooke protested. Why was it everyone thought she would throw him over because of a little gossip? Was it so difficult to understand she was more upset because of the act of gossip, not the content? Sure, most would end their courtship with a man many claimed was a product of an affair. But it really wasn't so important to her. Legally, he wasn't a bastard. He was born in wedlock. If he wasn't, then he wouldn't be an earl. That was all that mattered. As for the rest, the speculation about being too close to his mother for his own good as a child, well, that was just plain petty in her opinion.
Mama was motionlessly staring at her with worried eyes, so she forced a bright smile on her lips.
“If you’re certain this will not cause you to lose interest in the man, then I'll say no more. I think he’s quite a catch, and I believe you agree with me,” she said with a knowing smile. “I should just hate for you to give up on him because of some old gossip that probably isn’t true.”
“No, Mama, I have not given up on him,” Brooke assured her.
“Good,” Mama said, getting up to leave the room. “Papa has promised to teach me this game called pall mall. I am positively thrilled at the idea of hitting a ball with a mallet! He is waiting for me, I must be off.”
No sooner did Brooke get up to leave, than Mr. Grimes entered the room.
She sighed. Did he want to talk to her, too? She waited quietly by the door.
Mr. Grimes didn’t speak though. He just walked in the room, smiled at her, and took a seat on a chair near the corner. He really was a handsome man. It was little wonder Liberty turned into a goose in his presence.
Brooke just looked at him from where she was standing. He was definitely an odd one.
“I’ll just be going now,” she said more to herself than to him, since he wasn’t paying her any attention anyway.
Brooke was walking back to the breakfast room to see if there was anything left to eat when Alex reached out and pulled her into the library.
“Brooke, I’ve given this a lot of thought,” he said in a serious tone. “I’m not sure you should mention to Andrew what you heard last night. He doesn’t take kindly to being talked about. I think it’s best you don’t mention it.”
Brooke just stared at him, dumbfounded. She had no plans to mention what she heard or to ask him questions about it. If they were engaged or married she might ask him a question, but now wasn’t the time to dig into his past.
“I’ll tell you what I know, if you’d like. That should be enough to satisfy your curiosity for now,” Alex said uneasily.
“That will not be necessary,” she said, waving her hand. “I have no desire to hear any more stories. I will ask him about it if it becomes necessary, but as for now, I have no interest.”
The tension fled from Alex’s face, then he bobbed his head up and down ecstatically. “Very well. I shall see you later.”
Brooke took that as her dismissal and exited the library. This was turning into the most bizarre morning.
She made her way outside with only a quick wave and a chipper, “Good morning,” to Papa.
Relaxing in the shade given by a tall, leafy tree, Brooke was lost in a daydream. She dreamt of Andrew and his kisses. So far, he’d been the perfect gentleman. When he’d kissed her, he’d kept his hands in appropriate places. They might have rubbed her back a bit and tangled in her hair, but he hadn’t tried to maul her chest or bottom like the others had.
The last gentleman she’d kissed prior to Andrew had been the Duke of Gateway. His kisses had been satisfactory, but paled in comparison to Andrew’s. He hadn’t tried to caress her before she ended their time together. However, that was the reason she'd ended things. She felt his hand straying from her shoulder, dropping lower. Just the idea of his hand on her breast made her cringe.
“Is that the face you always wear when thinking of Townson?” asked the object of her thoughts, coming to lean against her shade tree.
“No, not at all,” she replied primly. “It’s the one I wear when I think of you.”
Gateway smiled a bit. “I’m flattered that I’m the subject of your thoughts. I do feel bad for Townson though. I believe he may be heartbroken to know the woman he’s courting is entertaining thoughts of me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Your Grace. As you so kindly pointed out when you approached, they were not pleasant thoughts.”
“Indeed,” Gateway allowed. “But thoughts, all the same. Would you care to share those thoughts with me?”
“No.”
“But if I’m part of them, then I think common courtesy would say you should shar
e them with me.” Gateway gave her an encouraging smile.
“Fine, I’ll tell you, although they don’t do you any favors. I was thinking of what an awful kisser you are. Have I satisfied your curiosity, now?” she asked, taking a small measure of delight in seeing his smile vanish and his eyes widen. Either his face changed because he was shocked she was so blunt, or he was shocked she thought he was a bad kisser. She wasn’t sure which, and didn’t care enough to ask.
“I’m sorry you feel that way. Would you like to give it another go?” Gateway asked, his smile fully recovered.
“No. I have suffered that tragedy once already. I have no wish for a repeat performance.”
“Hmm, I’d think you’d like to kiss a man who’s known to be skilled in that department.” Gateway said easily.
Brooke snorted. “You’re not that skilled.”
“You would know,” he quipped with a sly smile.
That stunned Brooke. Their conversation was already scandalous, not enough to ruin her reputation, but his last comment was. She looked around to make sure nobody had heard what he’d said.
After she was satisfied, she looked back to Gateway. “What do you want, anyway?” she asked tersely.
“To talk to you,” he responded smoothly, taking a seat on the grass next to where she was sitting.
She groaned. “Why?” she asked, grinding her teeth. “You never have anything nice to say to me, so why seek me out?”
“I’ve come to talk to you about Townson.”
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear another word about him. I don’t care about the gossip. I don’t care about his relationship with his mother, as a boy or now. And I don’t wish to discuss my relationship with him, especially with you.”
Gateway smiled at her. It was a rare smile that Brooke was sure she’d never seen before. She would even consider it to be a grin. Brooke was quite taken aback when she saw it. He had a very pretty smile when it was genuine. And there was no mistake, this smile was genuine. She smiled in return.